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freedomfireflies · 2 days

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The Playboy*

Summary: The one where you're a Playboy Bunny and Harry is Hugh's assistant. The one person you aren't allowed to love.

Word Count: 8.9k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionsim, multiple orgasms, brief choking, overstimulation

Harry's cum is dripping down your thigh.

You can see it, glistening beneath the sunlight, making it almost impossible to look away. You’re completely and utterly mesmerized by the sight of it, but Harry pretends as though he has no clue.

After all, he has to pretend. You know he’s done this on purpose. Know that he wanted to mark you right before your photoshoot with Hugh and the other Bunnies. He's sending a message, making a statement.

And really, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry fucked you right and you both know it. And he can pretend all he wants that it means nothing, but you’re the best lover he’s ever had. He told you himself. And perhaps that’s why he’s done this. Why he insisted that you weren’t allowed to wipe it off or hide it. Because he wants them to see. To know who you really belong to.

No matter how hard you squeeze your thighs together or attempt to brush the sticky stain away, it remains. And Harry’s proud smirk is rather obvious even from over on the grass where he observes.

You try not to look at him. To acknowledge that sadistic glee as you keep your gaze on the camera. Because if you look at him…it’s over. You won’t be able to hide your infatuation and the last thing either of you want is for Hugh to find out.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. Then again, he has too many people around him at once to pay attention to you and your wet thighs. But you know he’d be furious if he knew what his precious Bunny was doing, one of the many reasons you and Harry are forced to keep your meetings a secret.

But you know Harry likes being your secret. Perhaps just as much as you like being his. Besides, it’s only sex. No strings attached. He’s Hugh’s assistant and you’re one of the beloved Bunnies. It’s against every rule in the book for the two of you to be together, much less sleep together.

Yet here you are.

You sometimes wonder if Harry would even give you the time of day outside of your secret rendezvous. Or if he’d avoid you altogether. You want to believe it goes deeper than just sex, but truth be told, you’re too afraid to ask.

"Your lemonade, Sir."

You watch as Harry nods his thanks and takes the cold glass from the waiter. He’s far too smug for your liking, and you’d chastise him if it were any other moment.

Still, you watch him take a rather long sip as his eyes follow you from behind those dark sunglasses.

He knows you like to be watched. That you thrive off his attention. So, he gives it to you anytime he can. Even when you’re sitting on the lap of the man that employs him.

But you like to watch him, too. And the way he looks right now, with those dark curls pushed back, now slightly disheveled from when you had your hands running through them, is rather delicious.

He leans back in his seat, strong thighs spreading as he takes another sip. It’s almost criminal, and you can practically hear the sighs of the other girls as they notice, too.

He pops the first couple buttons of his shirt free, allowing for a glimpse of his tan, sweaty skin, and you feel your stomach clench. He’s taunting you now. Reminding you who’s really in charge, and you’re nearly tempted to march right over and prove him wrong.

But you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Remembering just a few moments ago when he had you bent over a chair as he fucked you from behind.

"Tell me how good I feel."

"Fuck you."

"Tell me how deep—"

"Not deep enough. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy."

The second he saw you in your signature bowtie, he snatched your hand and dragged you away. And you let him, because how could you not? Even if it meant you were late for the shoot and that you’d earn a very firm frown from Hugh. It was worth it, and the evidence has been painted all over your leg.

Suddenly struck with inspiration, you give a big beam to the camera before you subtly drop your hand to your thigh and swipe your finger through the mess.

You notice Harry’s eyes widen as he straightens up, wildly intrigued. But you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking, instead keeping your eyes on the lens as suck your middle finger into your mouth.

Harry knows what coats that finger and you let your lashes flutter as though to tell him how much you enjoy the taste.

Hugh laughs, thinking it's just a clever pose for the photos, but Harry knows this show is just for him and him alone.

He slides his sunglasses a bit further down his nose, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.

Yet your eyes never leave the camera, your smile wide, and your glee unmeasurable. You enjoy teasing him when you know he can’t do anything about it.

And it works, if the way he begins to shift in his seat is any indication. You can practically see his erection from here, and you have to swallow a laugh as he clenches his jaw.

Finally, you decide to put him out of his misery, and steal one glance for yourself.

The moment your eyes meet, your chest nearly caves in. The tension is thick, and it feels as though the whole world has gone quiet. It’s just you and Harry, and when he bites his lip and leans back in his seat, you about lose it.

Thankfully, almost as though heaven heard your silent plea, Hugh suddenly claps his hands together and declares the shoot through. He thanks you all for your patience and time before everyone begins to part and the camera crew packs up.

You’re off his lap in seconds, moving for the refreshments so you can grab a glass of lemonade for yourself. And hopefully encourage Harry’s attention to follow you.

You feel him behind you before you even have a chance to turn around. You recognize his cologne and the soft hum in his throat and you bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning.

“Bunny,” he murmurs, and even though it’s only been a few minutes, you’ve missed the sound of his voice. Low and raspy with just a hint of an accent.

“Harold,” you return, tossing a quick look over your shoulder before moving across the yard.

However, he’s hot on your tail, giving you absolutely no room or personal space. “That was quite a show,” he says, jogging around you to catch your eye.

You only bat your lashes as you take a sip of your drink, watching as his attention zeroes in on the way your lips wrap around the straw.

He smirks.

“Enjoyed yourself, did you?” you retort innocently, attempting to brush past him again when he suddenly grabs onto your upper arm and drags you back to him.

He dips down, mouth ghosting the side of your ear as he murmurs, “I believe you owe me a taste.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Is that so?”

“It is.” His grip tightens. “And you know it.”

You take a quick glance around the backyard just to make sure Hugh isn’t watching before you pull yourself free and turn to Harry. “Who said you deserve to taste me?”

“I believe you did. When you were coming around my cock and begging me to do it again.”

You scoff, feigning annoyance as you attempt to walk away. However, Harry is much quicker, and he snatches hold of your wrist in order to drag you across the grass and toward the pool shed in the corner of the yard.

Thankfully nobody seems to notice, and you feel your cunt throb as he gently slams you against the wall, away from any prying eyes. And he cages you there, arms on either side of your head as you bite your lip and peer up at him.

“You’ve been quite the brat, haven’t you, little one?” he nearly purrs, wedging his knee between your clenched thighs. “Trying to tease me…embarrass me. Get me in trouble.”

You blink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?” He squeezes your chin. “Show me your tongue.”

Slowly, you concede. Parting your lips and extending your tongue as he tilts your head back and stares down your throat.

“Good girl. Swallowed every drop, didn’t you?”

You nod.

“S’it feel good in your tummy, baby? Hm? Did it taste as good as you imagined?”

Another nod. Quicker and more excited.

He smiles. “Then I think it’s only fair you return the favor, hm?”

You aren’t afforded the chance to answer before he’s dropping to his knees and prying your legs apart.

“Harry—”

“Shh. I’m busy,” he murmurs, flicking the button on your costume undone until he can reach your stockings and tear them down. “S’been too long.”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Exactly.”

He runs his hands along your body, enjoying the way you shiver, that wicked grin is enough to ruin you. He places your foot on his shoulder while you steady yourself against the shed, your fingers already returning to his hair.

And he watches you. So desperate and eager to please. You know he’d bury himself in your cunt with no hesitation if he could, but for now…this is all you get.

It’s one of the things you adore most about him. His need to please you, even despite his ego. In fact, from the moment you met him, he’s put your pleasure first. Demanding that you sit on his face nearly every hour of the day just so he can get a small taste. Savor you on his tongue, go home with you still smeared across his chin.

Some people do drugs. Harry does pussy.

His hands slowly smooth up your leg, taking his time to appreciate your skin while admiring the way it glistens underneath the summer sun. He begins to kiss his way along your ankle and up toward your knee.

And you work to bite back a heavy sigh. You don’t tend to trip up too often, but when it comes to Harry, you find that you can never stay quiet. And you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because he knows how to draw out every possible noise and sensation. Somehow, even his kisses leave you whining.

Either way, you know you can’t make a noise today. Because no matter how loud the group out by the pool are, it’s not nearly loud enough to drown out your pleasured whines.

And he knows it, too.

He pauses his kisses once he reaches your inner thigh and glances up through those thick lashes of his. "You think you can stay quiet, little one?" he asks, lips brushing against your skin with every word.

You force a smile. “Do it right and we’ll see.”

It’s a challenge he’s more than eager to accept. He’s been waiting far too long to get a taste of what he left behind and wastes no more time in dragging his flattened tongue along your leg to collect the salty remnants from before.

The feeling itself isn't much but watching him...you can feel your knees growing weak. Harry knows what you like to see. Knows you adore his pink lips and the rings on his fingers. Knows you like to run your hands through his gelled hair and leave your lipstick on his shirt.

He hums, rather satisfied with himself. But before he can truly have you, you both catch the sound of commotion happening near the mansion.

You have a rather hard time tearing yourself away, but you know that if you don’t check, Hugh will coming looking for you.

So, regretfully, you drop your leg from Harry’s shoulder and peer around the shed.

Hugh is standing on one of the staircases, pipe in his mouth as he claps his hands to get everyone's attention. "All right, my dears, gather 'round. You've all been doing such good work this week, and I felt it was only right to honor you. So, for the first Saturday of the summer, I've decided we must celebrate.”

The other girls cheer as you toss Harry a curious look.

He only shrugs.

"You know the rules," Hefner continues. "But I want you to have fun and just relax tonight. The real work starts next week.”

With that, he gives his adoring audience a wink before heading back inside, leaving you to sigh to yourself.

Hugh is a stickler for rules and regulations. Curfews, no outside relationships, and absolutely no visitors. He wants to keep his girls to himself, and you know that applies to you more than anyone else.

Harry is watching you closely as you finally turn back around. “He wants me there tonight,” he tells you.

You nod. You expected nothing less. “I imagine so.”

“We won’t have as much time.”

“I know.” You readjust your outfit and attempt to wipe the lustful look from your face. “I should go.”

You get ready to slip back out into the open before Harry grabs your arm for a third time.

"I'll find you," he murmurs, more so a promise than a threat. "And I will get my taste."

You can’t help but smirk as you pat his cheek lightly. “Mm. Good luck, Playboy."

There are very few times in life when you find yourself completely and utterly breathless. Transfixed beyond doubt, mesmerized by one singular moment in time when you can't move or speak.

For you, that happened when you saw Harry enter the room for the very first time.

And then it happened again…when he slid inside you later that same night.

Two moments, one man.

One incredibly ethereal, divine, godlike man.

You hadn't expected Hugh's party to be all that exciting, but it was one of Harry’s first parties as Hugh’s assistant. Turns out…that meant something.

You had specific instructions to stay close to Hugh throughout the evening, as his favorite Bunny, and Harry had instructions to stay close as the assistant. But unlike you, Harry was instructed to follow from behind. Not to interact with any of the guests. And definitely not to be seen or heard.

But from the moment he entered the room, you knew it would be nearly impossible for anyone to keep their eyes off him.

He walked in as though surrounded by light, drawing everyone’s attention to those dark curls and that charming smile.

You couldn’t look away, so spellbound by his presence that you didn’t even realize Hugh was right beside him.

Instantly, you knew that would complicate things.

Still, you liked the challenge. And as it turned out, Harry did, too. Because while you were busy seeing him, he was busy seeing you.

Your eyes met through the crowd, even despite the many bodies and loud music. You felt yourself being drawn closer as you pushed your way toward the center of the room in a desperate attempt just to be close.

Harry did the same.

You wondered if Hugh knew what a threat Harry posed to his brand. After all, Hugh loved being the center of attention and Harry was so effortlessly stealing the attention for himself.

But it didn’t matter in that moment because Harry’s attention was yours, and once you both found your way to the center of the living room…everything changed.

You did your best to study him. Those gorgeous, textured curls. The unusual shade of green in his eye. That strong jaw that seemed to accentuate his sharp but handsome features.

He was wearing a white t-shirt that hugged each of his muscles in a way that left little to the imagination. He looked clean. Put together. So refined that all you wanted to do was trail your hands down his chiseled chest before you tore is shirt off.

And that’s when it happened.

The Moment.

Ever since that night, the two of you have been inseparable. Fucking any chance you get. In the kitchen, in the car, in the closet. His hand over your mouth, forcing you to stay silent in case Hugh might be somewhere in the mansion—which he always is.

In fact, there’s never a moment when you aren't the focus of each other's attention. Day or night, all you can think about is when you’ll see him next. Creating moments to run into each other. Planning meetings. Making excuses to find time alone.

And as it turns out, tonight is no different.

You know Hugh will be around. And even worse, he’ll be making his favorite Bunny the center of attention.

Which just means you’ll have to try a little harder to get Harry alone.

Most of the crowd will be desperate to talk to you. They always are, after all. They’ll follow you around, ask you questions, want to be in your presence.

And Harry will be somewhere hidden, keeping to himself so he’s neither seen nor heard. Although the rest of the Bunnies make that quite difficult.

For some reason, Hugh doesn’t mind if the others pay Harry a bit of attention. He only seems to mind if you do. And even though Harry will never admit it, Hugh’s possession over you makes him quite jealous.

He doesn’t enjoy the idea of having to share you, much less with a whole crowd of people and greedy men. They’ll take up all of your time. Time that should be reserved for him.

Truth be told, you find it rather cute.

So, you try to make it worth it. You sway your hips to a song just because he’s watching.

You run your hands down your body, smoothing them over each and every one of his favorite curves.

You dangle a cherry over your tongue before taking it between your lips, your cheeks hollowing as you suck the sweet fruit into your mouth.

It drives him absolutely mad, and you can already see him fighting the temptation to stride over to you right now.

You’re sitting by the pool, legs dangling over the side as you chat with Paul Newman. He’s leaning his body closer and closer toward yours, inviting himself into your space as you laugh and throw your head back with glee just to give Harry a proper show.

You do your best to flirt with the handsome man—which isn’t all that difficult, really—before you notice Harry march himself over to the drink stand.

Instantly, he begins chatting up Sophia Loren. One of the most stunning women you think you’ve ever seen and immediately, your eyes narrow.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

He’s not subtle about the way he stares at her, raking his eyes up and down her figure rather shamelessly. And she smiles, eating up his attention until you nearly chip a tooth from how hard you’re gritting your teeth.

It’s rather cute, all things considered. He’s really trying to make you jealous. But why should you be? Paul Newman is every bit as handsome, if not more, and happens to be someone you can actually sit and have a conversation with.

In fact, Hugh was the one who set it up. He introduced the two of you and insisted you get to know each other.

You knew what he really wanted from the interaction, but neither you nor Paul will be entertaining such an idea. After all, he is happily married. And you just enjoy getting to know him.

Paul is still chatting away as you both swing you legs through the warm water, and even though you can’t help feeling rather starstruck by those gorgeous blue eyes…you’re remind of a pair of green ones that are currently still checking out someone else.

So, you gently put your hand on Paul’s chest in a subtle signal for him to wind his story down. You tell him that you’re going to go grab a drink and he nods before helping you stand from the pool.

You make your way for the bar—rather aware of the number of eyes on you as you walk—yet Harry still seems to be rather immersed in his conversation with the starlet. And now you aren’t sure if this really is just for show or if she truly has caught his eye.

Either way, you decide a little eavesdropping can’t hurt. So, you subtly make your way around the pool and toward the back of the drink station, just out of sight. Close enough to hear, but not so close as to be seen.

“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Harry is asking, and you catch just a glimpse of those dimples.

Sophia hums, looking around the large backyard that seems to sparkle underneath such a dark sky. "Oh, yes. Hugh always throws the best parties."

"He does. Are you here with someone?"

You suck in a quiet breath while Sophia laughs, shaking out her perfectly styled curls. “No, not at all. I like to…come alone. Window shop.”

“Window shop?” Harry repeats with a smirk.

“Yes. I like to see what’s to be seen. To decide if I’ll be leaving alone as well.”

Harry chuckles, and the sound of it makes your stomach flutter. “I see. Well, I have to admit, that does sound like an excellent plan.”

Sophia studies him. “And…you? Will you be leaving alone?”

Harry runs his tongue over his lip before glancing toward the spot near the pool where you once were. But once he notices you’re missing, his eyebrow raises. “I hope not.”

She smiles. “Come,” she says, taking his hand. “We dance.”

With that, she leads him toward the middle of the yard where a few people are already swaying to the music.

You watch them dance with a rather wounded expression, doing your best to remind yourself what this really is.

You don’t imagine Sophia will be taking him home tonight—he’s handsome, but she’s far out of his league—yet you can’t help that spark of jealousy that finally burns in your chest.

What Harry lacks in brains he makes up for in charisma. And he looks rather breathtaking out there, moving his hips to the melody and grabbing at her waist while she laughs and swings her arms around his neck.

For a moment, you almost wish that you could dance with him like that. So open and uninhibited. But you know that this arrangement only lasts for the summer. Once fall comes, the two of you will part ways, and the fun will be through.

Eventually, the two of them return to the bar for more drinks, and you’re forced to scurry back out of sight just in time to ear the rest of their conversation.

"She is...stunning,” Sophia says as they approach.

Harry’s head tilts. “Who?”

“The woman you keep looking for.”

Harry grins as he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hm.” She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him. “One cannot win a game if the other player doesn’t know they are playing.”

"Maybe. But I’m not playing any games.”

She scoffs. “Aren’t you? Talking to me but wanting her?”

Harry seems rather surprised by this, and you feel yourself grin as you finally breeze your way around the corner in full view of them both.

“A scotch, please, darling,” you call to the bartender before glancing to your left. “Oh! Hi, Sophia. Harold.”

Sophia laughs. “Hello, dear. Fantastic party. You look beautiful.”

“As do you,” you return. “So happy you made it, despite your current choice in companion.”

Harry’s eyes roll.

“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she says, reaching up to wipe her thumb across his bottom lip. “Rather…sweet.”

Harry feigns a smug smirk even though you can tell he’s rather surprised by the action.

Still, you refuse to play along. “I suppose he can be when Hugh isn’t around.”

She chuckles to herself before offering you a quick kiss to the cheek before bidding the two of you goodbye so she can make the rounds.

Rather satisfied, you give Harry a proud look of your own before grabbing your drink and turning on your heel.

But, true to form, he’s chasing after you and taking a handful of your hip in order to bring you to a stop.

“Bunny,” he warns beneath a raspy breath. “I thought I made myself clear—”

“I don’t know what you mean, I was only chatting,” you retort, pulling yourself from his hand with a huff.

“No, you were not. You were being a brat and I’d like you to stop.”

“Stop what? Being delightful?”

“No. Stop toying with me.” He regards you carefully. “I know what you’re doing.”

"I'm talking. After all, that is my job—"

"No, your job is to be a good little Bunny, and do as you're told," he argues, straightening up so he has the advantage of height. "And I’m telling you that I will not play these games with you any longer.”

“What games?”

“The game where you try to rub my nose in that,” he says, gesturing angrily toward Paul.

“It’s not a game. He’s quite delightful. And I don’t believe I’m quite through with him yet—”

“Enough,” he seethes, suddenly yanking you back to him. “You know you don't want to talk to him. Or entertain his sad attempts at flirting. So, give it up, and come with me—"

"Beg me."

He leans back. “Excuse me?”

“Beg me,” you repeat calmly, even though your pussy is just about throbbing from the possessive tone of voice.

His head cocks. “I said end this—"

"Beg me, and maybe I will.”

He looks at you for another moment more before his eyes flick toward the mansion in search of Hugh. Having this conversation in such an open space is rather reckless, especially with so many witnesses. But you just can’t help it. He never seems to listen.

Harry knows his time is running out, as well as his patience, so he runs a hand through his hair and releases a strained exhale.

“Fine,” he concedes darkly. “Fine. Please…end this. And come with me.”

You bite back a smile. "Hm... I don't know, Paul and I were just having such a good time—"

"Please," he repeats, almost viciously. "Fucking end this. Now.”

By now, you know exactly what Harry's last straw looks like. What it sounds like. His voice, twisted with need and lust, becomes hoarser the closer he creeps to desperation. His grip becomes tighter, and his pupils nearly blow-out with desperation.

It happens when he's fucking into you so hard that you see stars. When his tongue is so far inside you that neither of you can breathe. And when you’re taking him so well down your throat that you think you’ll sink right through the floor.

It's the same voice. The same urgency. And you can’t help but feel a little intrigued.

You nod. “Fine.”

"Good. Meet me in the coat closet," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "Five minutes."

"Harry—"

“Go,” he repeats, before releasing you so he can slip inside the mansion.

You don’t need to be told twice. You immediately make your way for the door, weaving your way through the crowd in search of that familiar closet.

The inside of the house is packed with people. It’s loud and chaotic and there are more celebrities here than you can name.

But right now, you couldn’t care less. There’s only one person on your mind. One beautiful body that you can’t wait to run your hands down and it’s only five minutes away.

Once you’ve hidden yourself away in the small, dark space, you imagine all the things he might do. One of his favorites is watching the way he disappears inside you. The way your pussy stretches open to take his cock until you’re both a rather wet mess. You don’t doubt that he’ll find a way to do so tonight, and the thought makes you giddy.

Or perhaps he’ll blindfold you. Cut off all your senses until he’s all you know. Maybe you’ll blindfold him, another favorite.

Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter what he does as long as he does it. Because even the thought leaves you breathless.

The door swings open exactly two minutes later. Harry is quick to lock you both in and turn on the light, twisting the bulb between his fingers until you can see everything you couldn’t before. Mostly coats and hats, but then…him. Somehow just as stunning as he was a few minutes ago, and smiling in a way that makes you want to drag him to his knees.

“You obeyed,” he whispers, stepping up to you until he can softly run his palm along your cheek. “You are a good little bunny after all, aren’t you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth. “Only when I think you deserve it.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

He leans closer, nose brushing against yours. “And do I still deserve that taste?”

Your lashes flutter before you forcefully push him away and point to his belt. “Take off your pants.”

You don’t want to have to rush, but you know Hugh will be looking for you soon so you can be by his side for his grand speech. Which means you’ll have to save the sensual looks and teasing touches for another day.

He starts with his shirt instead of his pants (just to spite you), grabbing at his collar before slipping the fabric over his head. Then he reaches for his zipper and drags it down, as slowly as he can all while keeping his eyes on yours.

With a rather unamused huff, you finally swat his hands out of the way in order to do it yourself.

You yank the dark material down his legs, taking note of the boxers around his hips that practically call to you. You allow your fingers to slowly trail along his thighs. Higher and higher, groping at the strong flesh as he sighs and watches you with flushed cheeks.

Finally, you move for the band at his waist, pulling on it until it snaps back against his stomach, making him grunt.

He drops his head back with a curse, but once you start to drag your tongue along his abs…it’s game over.

His hand is instantly in your hair, tugging at the scalp as though to remind you who’s really in charge. But you can feel his muscles quivering beneath your tongue and you hum when you hear him exhale your name.

You reach his pecs, taking a moment to brush your lips over his hardened nipple. He doesn’t seem to understand why this feels so good, but he enjoys it, and he certainly enjoys watching you do it, too.

You never leave him unsatisfied. You don’t think you could even if you tried. Sometimes, all you have to do is kiss him, and he’s nearly coming in his shorts as he grinds you against his lap.

He knows his pleasure isn’t nearly as important as yours, but he enjoys the time you dedicate to him, nonetheless.

You graze the nipple with your teeth, pulling it ever so slightly until he hisses, head dipping as your foreheads meet.

He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before he’s pulling you up and kissing you hard. He starts with his tongue, exploring your mouth like it’s the first time, and honestly…it almost feels like it is.

Teeth clash, noses brush, breaths are stolen. You devour each other, greedy hands roaming freely, tangling in each other's hair.

"Can’t fucking stand you," he nearly groans against your mouth, his hips knocking into yours as he keeps you trapped against his chest. "Teasing me all night. Playing with me."

"You love it," you pant. "Love it when I play with you."

He grins. “Maybe I do.”

His hand moves to your one-piece until he finds the apex of your thighs. He smooths his palm along your cunt, cupping you harshly as you reel. He wants to feel how warm you are—how wet and desperate.

And you want him to feel it, too.

You swallow a needy sigh, almost as though you can’t let him hear. He can’t know how good this really feels. How depraved you really are of his touch. How starved.

But he knows. You know he knows, even through one little kiss.

It’s maddening.

He grabs onto the corset, ready to rip it down and reveal your chest to his hungry eyes, but you quickly snatch his wrist.

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head slightly. “Can’t rip it. Gentle.”

He scoffs, almost as though the thought of being gentle with you is absurd. Still, he knows Hugh would notice if your outfit has been torn, so he obeys, and unzips you instead.

The suit falls away, finally allowing him a good look at what you’ve been hiding from him all night.

Instantly, he’s got your tits in his hands, pulling at the tender flesh with a lewd grunt.

“Pretty,” he murmurs before sucking one into his mouth. “Fucking killing me, Bunny.”

Like a starved wolf, he starts to leave a trail of kisses wherever he can. Sloppy kisses that make you shiver as you fist his curls and laugh at the feel of your nipple between his teeth.

He swirls his tongue just the way you did, then flicks it gently while you sigh in his ear. Eventually, his fingers make their way to their previous spot, brushing at your inner thighs as though to warn you. And you’re given only a few seconds to prepare before he’s slipping the middle one inside and making you gasp.

The noise is covered by the loud music outside of the door, but Harry still hears it, and he beams as he starts to pump you slowly.

Your body invites him in the way it always does, squeezing him gently and clenching as though to keep him close.

“Shit,” he curses, once again pressing his mouth to yours. “Missed this pretty pussy, baby.”

His large digit suddenly curls upward, motioning a moan from your lips and there it is. That’s what you needed.

You hold onto him for dear life, already lost in the feel. He's always been rather exceptional at touching you. At knowing your body better than anyone else does.

You’ve tried to replicate his actions on yourself, tried to make yourself cum as hard as he makes you when he’s the one doing it. But it's never the same. It feels like a waste of time to even try. It'll be weak and short. Pitiful. And trying again never works because it's just as disappointing as the first time.

But Harry…with his long fingers, his firm hand, his ravenous lips. Nothing will ever compare.

"Feel so good, sweetheart," he praises, lips staining your skin as he kisses the hollow of your neck. "Good girl. Lift for me, yeah?"

You obey, offering him your leg which he's quick to hook around his waist, spreading your open a bit further so he can slide himself deeper inside.

Another finger, another curl, another pinch. His thumb presses into your clit, circling it rapidly, making you whine into his shoulder. You can feel the coil already ready to snap, hardly surprised by how quickly you got here, but you know he’ll make sure to drag it on for as long as possible.

And as if to prove this, he slips his fingers out, and raises them to his lips. You nearly wilt right then and there, but you manage to hold your impatient façade as you cock your eyebrow upward before yanking his hand out and kissing him.

You can taste yourself on his lips, something you always seem to enjoy. The mix of you both together.

And this is when he decides to ruin you, plunging his fingers back in with vigor until he hits that perfect spot. The one that has you gasping for air and moaning his name.

Your chest heaves with deep breaths. You’re close and you know it won’t be long until your cunt is fluttering around his hand and you’re dripping down his wrist. But you need more than that. Especially because this is the last time you’ll be with him for a while.

So, you grab onto his jaw and forcefully bring his eyes to yours.

“No,” you hiss. “Not like this. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy.”

He hums, all without slowing his rhythm. “Impatient, little one?”

“Obviously.”

He makes an amused noise, but he doesn’t stop his thrusts. He plans to make you cum just like this before he fucks you and you don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

You move your hand to his throat, squeezing the sides gently as you feel him swallow. His pulse is pounding beneath your fingertips, blown-out pupils glued to yours as you add just the slightest bit of pressure.

His soft inhale makes your stomach flutter. You happen to adore him like this, on the verge of complete submission. Merciless at your feet.

But you know it won’t last long. And once his eyelids begin to flutter, you yank him down for another kiss. Stealing the only breath he has left.

You can practically feel his cock twitching against your thigh as you tug his curls and suck on his tongue. But he’s not one to be outdone, and he continues rubbing your clit as quickly as he can, sweeping his fingers in a circle while you roll your hips against his hand.

"Gentle, sweetheart," he warns, throwing your own instruction back at you.

You want to retort with a quippy remark of your own but choose instead to lick a stripe along his jaw. That suffices as your reply.

You don't have a lot of time, at least not for games. You’re playing against the clock, and you know Hugh will be calling for you any second.

Any other night, Harry would most likely edge you all the way to the brink. But tonight, he knows better, and he does everything he can to make you cum.

And when you do, you nearly lose your balance. It’s one of the most blinding and toe-curling orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. So much better than when you do it alone and you’re so grateful for his cocky attitude for the first time all summer.

Your body melts into his as you start to come down from your high. You almost wish it would never end. The way his lips feel on your cheek. The sound of his soft, proud praises in your ear. It’s everything.

But you know that’s not what he’s good for. So, instead, you push him away and step back. “Down.”

He looks at you. “Down?”

You nod toward the floor. “You wanted a taste. So take a taste, sweetheart.”

He crosses his arms. “Mm. Ask me nicely.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ask me nicely to eat you out and maybe I will.”

Your expression falls flat. “Take the goddamn taste, Harold, or I will go out there and find somebody who will.”

He’s amused, but you know he’s also nervous. He doesn’t like the idea that you’d take yourself from him, so, he clears his throat and slowly lowers to his knees.

Exactly where he belongs.

His head bows, something he doesn’t do quite that often, and your heart soars. He looks beautiful like this. Submissive and good. Everything you know he’s not.

You brush your fingers through the curls draping across his forehead and he seems to settle into your touch before you’re hooking your finger under his chin and lifting his head.

Your eyes meet, a look of utter reverence written across his face as he gazes at you with awe and respect. And your stomach nearly twists as you whisper, “You know what to do.”

And he does. His mouth turns up in a gentle smile as he slowly reaches for your ankle. He resumes his earlier position, the bottom of your heel on top of his shoulder for access, and his other hand reaching to grab your hip and pull you towards his face.

You immediately bite your lip, anticipating the noises that are about to follow.

Similar to this afternoon, he starts gentle, pressing kisses into your thighs ever so slowly. You know you’re soaking him. Can hear it and see it, even in the dim closet light.

He drags his tongue up your leg, collecting every drop that’s at his disposal, while you continue pushing back his hair so you can see him clearly.

Finally, he reaches your swollen clit, still sensitive from his last assault, before he’s eagerly tracing it with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe in his hands, head turning to the side as you open your mouth to exhale a curse. And this seems to feed his ego because he repeats the action again, nose pressing into your hip as he inhales you like you’re fresh air on a spring day. Like you’re the only thing he wants in his lungs—the only breath he wants to take.

You pull his head closer as though to encourage him, and your name falls from his lips like rain.

“My sweet Bunny,” he nearly groans. “Can never get enough of you.”

“Good,” is all you can say. “We don’t have a lot of time, though. You need to be quick.”

“Who says I’m through? You owe me, sweetheart.”

You give his curls a sharp yank. “No. Get up and fuck me.”

He pouts, feigning a tantrum, but you know his cock is throbbing rather pitifully for you. So, he obliges, standing to his feet while you gather yourself in wait.

He tugs down his boxers, the only fabric left between you, and you try not to stare as you grab onto his shoulders and prepare to sink down.

“Five minutes,” you instruct softly. “Make it count.”

However, before you can feel that glorious tip pushing its way through, he’s suddenly grabbing onto your hips and spinning you around. Shoving you against the coat closet wall as you gasp.

Instantly, his hand comes up to slap against your lips. “Hush now," he hisses against your ear. "Unless you want Hugh to know what I'm really doing to his pretty girl?"

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel his hips knocking into yours, giving you just a taste of what’s to come. Instead, you glance over your shoulder in an attempt to see him, and nod once.

But this isn’t good enough. So, he reaches for the bowtie around your neck, pulling on it until it snaps off into his hand. He holds it as though it were a prize he won in battle before he’s slipping it over your head and into your mouth.

You take it between your teeth and bite down obediently.

“Good,” he hums, giving your ass a quick spank. The sound echoes between the small walls. “That’s much better, hm?”

You feel him drag his cock through your dripping folds while his other hand ghosts down the curve of your spine. He’s gentle with you, despite his cruel taunting, and you’re almost impressed. Infatuated, even.

His warm body feels so good against yours. Luring you into a sense of security you can’t seem to find anywhere else. And you rather enjoy it as you feel the thickness of him starting to stretch you open.

You moan around the tie while Harry grunts in your ear. Just like the first time the two of you found yourselves in this position.

And exactly like every other time before, he doesn’t rush you. He lets you feel—lets you enjoy—every inch and every second. Any other time, he’d make you beg. Beg him to go harder, go deeper. But tonight, you can’t, and it’s almost a shame he won’t get to hear it.

Instead, you offer a muffled whimper that seems to do the trick, and he chuckles to himself. “Need more, don’t you?”

You nod quickly, and he wraps his arms around your stomach in order to tug you back and guide you along his cock the way he wants.

He goes faster. His five minutes is now down to four, and he knows he’ll have to make this quicker than usual. Sharp, hard thrusts that make your legs shake and your heart race. But somehow, it’s still not enough.

“You like to play with me, don’t you, hm?” he begins to taunt. An angrier tone than before. “Make me watch you? With him?”

Your eyes nearly roll back, and you whine against the fabric on your tongue.

"Think I don't know?" he scoffs. "Think I don't know who this pussy belongs to?"

He starts to slow. A rather achingly languid pace that’s meant to make you scream, and you nearly do.

“I do,” he promises in a dark whisper. “I know exactly who you belong to.”

You arch your back and reach for his hair. Pulling his face into your neck as he leaves a trail of wet kisses all the way down to your shoulder.

“So stay,” he murmurs. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to him. Don’t make me jealous, Bunny. Don’t make me watch him touch you. Please.”

Please.

A word he rarely uses, even when you instruct him to. But it sounds so beautiful between his lips, and you nearly tell him you’ll never leave him again.

But you know he doesn’t mean it. It’s just what you say in a moment like this. So, you whimper, and tug on him harder. Pretending to agree until he smiles.

The small coat room has become a sauna, your naked bodies now writhing together as the rest of the world continues on around you.

You can hear the music, the people, the party. A constant reminder that while you’ve disappeared into your own little world within this closet...the two of you will never truly be alone.

But you don’t get a chance to focus on that when his hand suddenly reaches around to take hold of your chest. Plucking your nipple between his large, rough fingertips. You brace your forehead against the wall as you push yourself into his palm. Anxious for more, which he happily gives you.

The two of you move like the tide, one fluid motion of your bodies in rhythmic harmony. He leaves your tit to focus on your clit. Forcing you closer to a second orgasm that already feels much stronger than the first.

"Here," he breathes. “Give me your hand. Want you to touch yourself for me, okay? So I can watch you.”

Your arm trembles as you move it toward your thighs, where he easily takes your fingers and places them against your pussy exactly the way his had been.

“Just like that. Good. Rub it for me, sweetheart. Yeah…there you go. Attagirl. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You feel his eyes over your shoulder as you pinch and rub the swollen nerves as your legs shake. After a moment, he grabs your thigh and lifts your knee to the wall. Giving himself a different and deeper angle as you nearly cry out around the bowtie in your mouth.

Everything feels wet. And warm. And perfect. And you know you’re moments away from coming around his cock for the second time today.

“How you doing, baby?” he chuckles when he notices the fucked-out expression on your face. “You all right?”

You nod as best you can and clench down on his cock for confirmation. And he makes a rather animalistic noise before he’s grabbing onto your tit again and groping it in his palm.

“Good. You gonna cum for me, little one? Milk me like I know you can?”

Another nod. You can hear the party growing louder, which means it’s almost midnight. And that means Hugh’s speech will be any second now.

You’re squirming harder, unable to fight such intense pleasure as it comes from his cock and your fingertips. But he catches you, grip tightening around your thigh as he squeezes so hard, you know you’ll see bruises in the shape of his name tomorrow.

But you don’t mind. You know you’ll be able to touch them in the shower and remember this—remember him.

“Cum,” he instructs, almost viciously. “Right now, Bunny. Fucking cum. Let me feel you. Gotta feel you, honey, please.”

You roll yourself back onto his cock just to feel full while he kisses your jaw and begs you to let go.

You’re so close you can nearly taste it. And he’s even closer than you, doing his best to hold out but you know it’s rather hard with the watch you’re squeezing him.

And when you feel him start to buck and twitch, you can’t help but smile.

He spills inside you as he bottoms out. He hates coming first, and always tries incredibly hard not to. But tonight, you can’t exactly fault him, and as it turns out, the feel of him inside you—so warm it makes your head spin—is what you need to follow.

The orgasm nearly explodes behind your eyelids as you scream into the tie, forcing Harry to slap his hand back over your mouth to silence you.

“Quiet,” he hisses, nose pressed against your cheek. “Shut up.”

Yet you don’t even try. You don’t care that you might get caught or that someone could hear. Perhaps you will once the consequences catch up to you, but right now? Right now, you moan into his hand and allow every moment of this pleasure to take control of you.

Your sweaty bodies melt together, damp hair clinging to your skin as Harry finally lets go and steps back.

But instead of pulling his clothes back on, the sadistic man drops back down to his knees, and spins you around.

He brushes your hand away from your clit in order to do the work himself. Resuming his previous pace on your rather abused nerves until you nearly crumble to the floor.

It’s almost too much. Your eyes roll back and your head drops against the wall. You can’t stand it, yet you can’t get enough.

“One more,” is all he says before diving forward for a lick. “Just one more, baby.”

You’re too sensitive. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you watch him through the blissful haze as he closes his eyes to savor the taste.

It’s a mix of you and him, and watching him lap at you like a thirsty man desperate for a drink is sinful. He’s so good. So beautiful like this. Devoted just to you the way no other man ever has been before.

Outside, you can hear the sound of Hugh calling for everyone’s attention. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’ll be furious if you’re not there. If he has to find you. And if he finds you with Harry?

You don’t have any more time. You have to go. Right now. But you’re so close, and Harry isn’t stopping, and you just need to finish, you just need…need—

You cum for the third and final time with a rather lewd and anguished moan.

Instantly, you start to slump forward as Harry leaps to his feet in order to keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “There you go. I’ve got you. S’okay.”

Your vision is fuzzy as you grip onto his shoulders for balance, the taste of the orgasm still bleeding along your tongue.

But you can’t bid him goodbye just yet. So, you rip the tie from your mouth and kiss him. Drowning in the taste of him and you together. And nothing else really matters except his hands and the way they hold you close.

“Good boy,” you exhale after you’ve pulled apart.“Knew you could do it.”

He only grins.

The two of you quickly work to redress, pulling on your clothes and shoes while Harry’s cum continues to streak down your thighs. It seems he didn’t get it all, and the realization that you’ll have to go out there with him still snug inside your cunt makes your stomach flutter.

When Harry notices your surprised expression, he winks. “Wanna make sure you’re thinking of me when you’re standing next to him.”

You scoff. But deep down, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry helps you secure the tie back around your neck, effectively covering the hickeys he so generously left for you to find later. And you make sure to brush back his curls so they look a little more tame before swiping your thumb across his chin to collect what’s left of you.

And once you’ve finally gathered yourself, you move for the door, only stopping to give him one last glance.

“This was nice,” you tell him honestly. “Just make me a deal, okay?”

His eyebrow raises.

“Next time? Don’t wait so long.”

With that, you’re out the door. Leaving the breathless man behind. But you know it certainly isn’t the last time you’ll see him. After all, the summer is far from over.

And you’re just getting started.

HI!!! I just wanted to say that even though we have a Hugh Hefner in this story, I don't consider it to be the same one as the real one! I used his name because he's so famously associated with Playboy but I do not agree with or condone anything that he's done or how he treated people!

I am only using his name, but please imagine anyone you'd like! 💞

~ Main Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@laelamarley @idkkkkkkk123lgb

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 days

Text

put your sweet lips on my lips | joel miller

Summary | He won't ever kiss you, those are the rules, but you fall in love with him anyway.

Pairing | Boston QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.3K

Warnings | This is basically porn without plot (do we expect anything less from me these days?) A sprinkling of angst, a stupid no kissing rule, fingering, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, biting during sex, mentions of breath play, Joel is kinda mean but also kinda soft, neck kisses, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | This was written for @janaispunk's 1.5K kisses celebration! I got Joel Miller with neck kisses and I immediately went, make it smutty and painful, so this is the result. The biggest congratulations to Jana for such an incredible milestone - you're such a shining star on this little corner of the internet and I'm so glad to know you! I hope you like my little way of celebrating you! Thank you for letting me be part of your celebration! I think this may be one of my favourite things I’ve written in a while so I hope you all agree and enjoy it!

Main Masterlist

“That’s it baby, just like that.”

His lips are right there, right against the shell of your ear, hot breath painting small drops of dew where it meets your hot skin. He’s got two fingers buried in your sopping cunt, the squelch of movement the only thing that fills the air if it’s not your moans or his grunts as he presses the thick bulge of his jeans against your ass.

It would be so easy. So easy, you think, to turn your head to the side and catch him by surprise. Let your mouth brush against his, hope that it sparked something between you, hope that it made him push his mouth harder to your own, that he’d let you taste his tongue for the first time since this all started.

He was clear from the start though, that first night, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, throbbing inside you as he split you open, when you’d put your hand around the back of his neck and tried to drag him to your mouth. His eyes had darkened and his hand had flown to the bottom of your neck, gripping tight enough to warn, tight enough to thrill, to make your wet cunt even wetter as he growled at you.

“I don’t do that shit.”

And that was it. Acceptance between the two of you that this was just sex. Just fucking when you needed it, taking your frustrations out on each other. Nothing to blur the lines, to make you think it was anything more. Plump lips always taunting you when they spoke to you, or when he sunk his teeth into them when you took his entire length into your mouth and down your throat. Always right there and always just out of reach.

God knows how much you want to know what his mouth is like on the one part of your body they’ve never touched. He’s had that mouth latched around your clit as you shake for him, sucked your nippled into that warm cavern, left marks on your skin with his teeth, but never once let you feel them on your own.

You turn your head to him a little, his fingers curling inside you enough to make your pussy clench around them, his mouth right there. You know you could do it, but you’re scared of the consequence. Scared that he’d take everything else away from you, like a parent taking away an ice-cream from a screaming child. You’d be just as petulant if he did, because there’s something comforting about him, hard and closed as he is, but in this place, he is the only thing that doesn’t make you want to throw yourself out of a window.

“Come on baby,” He urges, snaking his other hand down your body so he’s teasing your aching clit now too, “Give it t’me and I’ll give you what you want.”

He rolls his finger across your swollen bud, circling and circling as the feeling in your stomach goes tighter and tighter until it snaps, all of a sudden. Cunt clenching around his fingers as your body shakes, head thrown back onto his shoulder as you come, gushing around his fingers. That’s when you feel it, the familiar warmth of his mouth, soft as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, and then up the side of your neck. He pulls his fingers from your cunt, drags them up your body as his mouth opens against the skin of your neck, tongue warm and wet as it licks at your skin, warm and wet like his fingers that have wiped the evidence of your want for him over your lower stomach.

Joel presses you forward, front of your body pressed to the back of the couch, eyes on the peeling, colourless wallpaper in front of you. He uses one of his knees to spread your legs wider, and though it might be obscene, you move in a way to show off, to bare your aching, drooling pussy to him and the empty room. You can hear him fumble with his belt and then the sound of him pulling his zipper down.

He gives no warning, he never does, just lines the blunt head of his cock to your fluttering hole and pushes in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he folds his body over yours, head of his cock pressed so deep you have no idea where he ends and you start.

His mouth is back on your neck, kissing sloppy to the skin, and it’s like he knows, like he could read your mind about what you want. When he sinks his teeth in and sucks, it’s like he’s saying he’s sorry. He’s sorry he can’t be the man you want him to be, that he can’t ever love you. And silently, as you hold his head there, fingers tangled in his hair, you say it’s okay, that you forgive him, as long as he never stops this.

As long as he never stops the perfect roll of his hips, skin slapping against skin as his cock sets a bruising pace. As long as he never stops the bruising grip on your hip, keeping you in place. As long as he never stops letting you feel his mouth on every inch of your body, it’s okay.

Joel is close, you can feel it in the way he’s faltering, so you think fuck it, what is there to lose.

“Please, Joel.”

It comes out like a whine, your head tipped back on his shoulder again, now he’s pulled you up, pressed you to his body. His hips go harder, like that’s what he thinks you want, so you card your fingers through his curls, damp with sweat, and you beg again, head tilted to the side, mouth right in his eyeline.

“Please Joel,” It’s pathetic really, “I’ll be good, I promise, just once.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Joel, I-”

“I said,” He begins, punctuating it with a particularly hard shove of his cock into your cunt, “No.”

He pushes your body forwards, takes the warmth of his body from yours in punishment for what you’d asked for. Both hands grip at your hips now, his grunts loud as he uses you, thrusts his throbbing cock in and out of you until the very last second, when he pulls himself from your tight heat and fists his cock. You can feel your cunt fluttering around nothing, so close to the edge again, and so far.

Joel comes with a growl, warm spatters of cum painting the round of your ass and the low of your back, his other hand holding you in places as he empties himself entirely across your skin. You expect this to go how it always does, with him pulling away, dressing himself and muttering some excuse to leave, but instead, you feel him come back to you, his front pressed to your back, surely making a mess of the front of his shirt as he does it.

His lips are by your ear, his breath fast and low, but then his lips press to the skin behind your ear, soft and gentle.

“I’m sorry.” He says, barely audible, even this close to your ear.

And then you feel it, the warmth of his lips against the bite mark on your neck. It’s the most gentle you think he’s ever been with you as his mouth pulls back a whisper, pressing against softly to the injured skin. Always there, and never your lips, but as he does it again, you think maybe it’s worse? Because just like it would be there if he kissed your lips, there’s a bubbling feeling in your stomach, and then you realise, it’s not the kiss the makes you fall in love, no matter where it’s placed, it’s the gentle that does it in the end.

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violetarks · 2 days

Text

“baby keep talking, but nobody’s listening!”

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, choso, fushiguro toji

summary: they find you on a date with someone they've never seen before, but they don't need to look for long to see how bored you were. deciding for you that it would be the first and only date you ever went on with that man, they come to your rescue.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is on a date with a man, said date sucks ass (trying to regulate what y/n eats, snarky comments, egotistical, rude to hospitality workers), shoko/itadori/shiu help set you up on a date but they suck at it

↣ gojo satoru

"satoru, you have to get out," you huff at him, crossed arms over your chest. he sat on your cough, flicking through tv channels. "my date is coming here in ten minutes!"

"you mean the stranger that shoko met at the mall and said would 'totally be your type'?" he says, looking over his shoulder to you. you raise a brow. "c'mon, blow him off. we need to finish 'the last of us'!"

"don't you dare watch it while i'm gone, satoru, or god so help me—" your phone rings, interrupting your threat. you answer when you see the number of your date. "hello? oh, yes, this is y/n."

you begin to walk to grab your keys and your bag, satoru following after you when you suddenly stop.

"oh, uh... you want to meet there?" you say, tilting your head, "no, that's fine, i'll leave now. see you—..."

"he's not coming to pick you up?" satoru questions, watching as you take out your car keys.

"he's actually already there. and he's ordered for me." you say with a bit of doubt in your voice. satoru can hear it. "it's fine, i should go now. don't you dare watch that show, i will kill you. see you, satoru."

the whole time you're gone, he can’t do anything. he’s sitting in silence for an hour, not even looking at his phone. he felt angry at himself.

so he followed you, obviously.

he looked up the restaurant you had mentioned to him before and saw the pictures posted online. it looked like such a nice first date place. and that boiled even more jealousy in him. of course he had to follow you.

and luckily he did; you looked miserable.

he takes out his phone as soon as possible.

“you know how many calories are in that meal?” your date said after the waiter left your table, “way better for you than what you wanted.”

you had just told him your favourite dish in the menu. and he told you he ordered you just a salad. while he got two meals because he was ‘bulking’.

when shoko showed you his instagram, you had to admit that he was cute. he was fit too, and you did your fair share of exercise. he had a nice smile and he also posted photos of his dog. but that couldn’t shield you from what was right in front of you.

you found out he was a model for a magazine you’ve never heard of, and while that was impressive, it was his whole personality. you asked about his pet, and he somehow turned it back to his career and how he did a fireman themed calendar last year. you’d think he was surely more than that, but it didn’t seem it. you had barely talked about yourself. it didn’t look like he was interested anyway.

“hm, what did i do today?” he thought out. you cringed at the way he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “i hit the gym at 5am, walked my pet for an hour and a half, took some photos for my resume since i’ve got a new deal coming up, and spent time from then to now just at the studio.”

you were waiting for him to ask about your day. he doesn’t.

“and you know, i’m actually the most valued model at my studio. they always call me for shoots, i’m always first on their list. you’d think i could catch a break every so often,” he chuckles out, rubbing up and down his arms. you hold back from rolling your eyes as you sip your water. “but it’s hard being so… handsome.”

you stare at him and fight the urge to roll your eyes once again.

"what about you?" the moment you've waited for comes a little too late. you're not even interested in speaking about yourself.

"well, i did some grocery shopping this morning—"

"what did you buy?"

"me and my friends are having a movie tomorrow, so i just bought some snacks for us," you explained for some reason, "chocolates, popcorn, chips—"

"junk food?" he scoffs back, "no, no, you don't need all that. you oughta' bring it back and get some fruit. way better for you."

you down the rest of your alcoholic drink you had ordered (the one thing he did let you choose) and look away.

that is when you feel a hand rest on your upper back.

"excuse me, ma'am," you look up and widen your eyes when you see satoru standing before you. he's wearing a white button-up, black slacks, dress shoes and a black waist apron. you freeze up. "the gentleman over there asked me to give you this, already paid for."

you look over to where he was pointing. nanami sits in his own suit as he waves his hand at you, pained smile. satoru places a mojito in front of you. your date stands up.

"the hell? doesn't he see that i'm here?" he scoffs as he stands up. his chair screeches against the floor, which collects everyone's attention in the restaurant. "he's insulting me! what a prick! i'm gonna fuck him up!"

"hey!" you stand up as he begins trudging over. satoru places a hand on your shoulder to stop you, and you see nanami roll his eyes and stand up as well, ready for the fight. "what are you two doing here? and why are you dressed like that?"

"i'm the ultimate undercover agent, of course," he replies. he begins pulling off his apron and dropping it on your seat. he hooks his arm with yours and smiles. "let's get outta' here."

"but my date—"

"he's fine," you watch as nanami dodges one of his punches with and irritated face. "nanami will take care of him."

you let him whisk you out of the restaurant while everyone is watching the two men fight (not really). satoru walks you to his car and starts the engine. you see nanami's car behind his.

"did you seriously bring him along to get me out of that date?" you chuckle as you stare at him. satoru purses his lips and looks away. "thank you, satoru. you didn't have to."

"you're welcome, gorgeous," he responds to you, "i could tell from the phone call that he wasn't all that. wonder what barrel they fished him out of."

you let out a small sigh and look out the window. you were embarrassed; this was the first date you've ever been set up on, and it went horribly. you knew you should've left earlier, not wait until satoru came along. he was your saviour for today, you had to admit.

but what was even worse, you seemingly let than man talk to you like that. you could chalk it up to just being friendly and giving him the best benefit of the doubt, but deep down you know you would never have let that slide with people you know. hell, yaga could speak to you that way and you would still give him an earful.

"don't be sad, y/n, now we can go to yours and watch our show," satoru attempts to cheer you up. he flashes you a smile. "i promise, i won't eat all your food."

"you're a liar, satoru." you laugh back.

"seriously though, that guy was a wreck. why did he keep talking about calories and stuff?" he mumbles out with a disapproving shake of his head, "i had to shut him up somehow. i should've just spilt the drink over him."

"oh god, what about the food? i didn't pay for my meal."

"you mean the salad you didn't want? i cancelled it for ya'."

"why aren't you this nice all the time? you usually bully me." you claim in a joking matter. satoru pouts at you. "i appreciate this, a lot. i guess guys who only ever think about themselves aren't my type."

there's a quietness in the car as he turns on his indicator. you enjoy the little noise coming from the radio, a song that you've heard quite a lot.

"you know, yuuji, nobara and megumi?" he clears his throat.

"yeah?" you respond to him in confusion.

"yeah," he hums with a nod of his head, "i think 'bout them a lot. they're good kids."

"they are," you agree with him. it takes you a few seconds before you look at him again. "satoru, that's not what i meant."

"so am i your type?"

"oh my god."

"answer the question, y/n."

↣ choso

"yuuji?"

"yeah?"

"do you know who this is?" choso shoves his phone into his brother's face.

"uh, that's y/n." yuuji responds in a bit of confusion. the two of them were sitting in a new restaurant with ramen on their tables. choso’s sat nearly untouched for the past ten minutes as he flicked through some pictures you sent to a groupchat with him in it. yuuji was halfway through chewing noodles when choso asked him about the photo you sent a few minutes ago. “why? she looks good.”

“no doubt,” choso mutters in response as he zooms in on the other figure in the picture you took of your reflections in the window, “i mean him.”

“oh, that’s the guy who me, nobara and y/n saw last week at the movies,” yuuji responds, “he asked y/n for her number, so i think they’re out together right now.”

he looks at yuuji in disbelief as the pink-haired boy starts slurping on the soup. it takes him a few seconds to properly react.

“are you serious?” choso says a little loudly. people turn to stare at the pair. “you let him get her number?”

“what? he seemed cool and y/n didn’t seem to mind that i gave it to him.” yuuji holds his hands up in defense as choso angrily glares at the photos on his phone screen. “you said you weren’t gonna’ make a move on her anyway!”

“that doesn’t—” a groan leaves his lips as choso holds his head. he lets in a deep breath. “okay, it’s fine.”

“i’m sorry, choso.”

“no, it’s my fault, i did say i wasn’t going to ask her out,” he tells yuuji, who slowly goes back to eating, “i… i missed out, i guess.”

yuuji frowns as the guy in front of him sadly eats his food.

“you know…” he begins with a small smile. choso looks up to him. “they’re just out for lunch nearby. y/n told me where they were going. we could—”

“yuuji! hurry up!” choso has grabbed his jacket and is rushing to the door before yuuji can reply, “we might miss them!”

yuuji scurries out of restaurant after he gobbles down his ramen. it isn’t too far of a drive, actually. it took about 15 minutes to get there and choso had easily spotted your car in front of a cozy cafe. he parks next to it and almost ducks when be notices you in the chair facing the window, facing the two of them, with your date sitting in the booth — your favourite spot. choso always let you sit in the booth side.

choso clutched onto the steering wheel with gritted teeth. yuuji looked towards you to get a better view.

“huh… she looks annoyed.” yuuji points out.

“this guy…” choso grunts.

inside the cafe, you had taken a few photos of your food and your drink. you’re glad yuuji suggested this place, you loved the service and the food here. the servers were always so nice and helpful and quick, and the food was amazing too.

it was obvious to you that your date didn’t think the same.

“god, everything in here is so…” he begins as he examines the design on his waffles. he cringes a little. “girly.”

“it’s just a bunny design,” you point out as you sadly stir the cat-shaped foam into your hot drink, “it’s cute.”

“it’s embarrassing,” he reiterates. you purse your lips and sip your drink. the delicious taste was enough to make you forget his sour tone. until he speaks up again. “can’t believe your friend told us to go here.”

“i love this cafe,” you state, “everyone here is so nice.”

“the service is slow and they gave me the blueberry waffles instead of the normal ones like i said,” he complains. you set your drink down and hold back from rolling your eyes. “i don’t care how busy you are, you always check five times that the order is correct.”

you don’t even reply to him after that, only trying to enjoy your meal that you paid for. he wasn't helping at all. you thought that because he was so charismatic when talking to yuuji that he was probably a good catch, but you couldn't have been more wrong. maybe he was just putting up a front in order to score you. you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover anymore.

"hey. over here," he begins to snap his fingers and nodding at a server with four full plates of food. the guy looks over frantically, obviously under pressure. "i wanna' ask you something."

"ah, right, give me a second, sir—" the guy was trying to distribute the food with the customers who he was serving.

"i told you, slow service," your date scowls towards you. could you be any more embarrassed right now? the server finishes off his task before coming over to you two. before he can even ask, your date is holding up a nearly empty cup of coffee. "this is the most bitter coffee i have ever had in my whole entire life."

"oh, well, you ordered an americano, sir," the poor server explains, "they tend to be bitter."

"what? no, no, no," the guy in the booth starts shaking his head, "i ordered a flat white."

"you..." the server begins. he was the one who had taken your order too.

"you ordered the americano, actually," you pointed out. the guy raised a brow at you, unamused. "it's okay, you can just order a flat white—"

"god, i did not order an americano." he claims.

but you distinctly remember him saying 'americano' for his drink. and the server repeated the order back to him before it was confirmed annoyedly. you stare down at his nearly empty cup.

"y'know what? just put the flat white on the tab, i will pay for it." you sigh out as you rub your neck.

your date looks more pissed off as the server leaves.

"he was wrong, you don't have to pay for another drink." he mutters out.

"it's nothing, don't worry." you retort and stare back down at your food. you didn't have an appetite anymore and a few minutes pass in silence.

the flat white comes out after such a long time of waiting. your date drinks it quietly, but you notice that he makes a face to show he doesn't like it. you quickly excuse yourself to go and pay at the counter for your food (he insisted on splitting the bill since he didn't like the place) so that you don't have to hear him bicker about it.

"hey," you turn behind you to see choso standing there in a baggy hoodie, a bit nervous, "fancy seeing you here..."

your eyes flicker to outside, where you see yuuji waving at you from choso's car. a smile lands on your face.

"nice to see you, choso," you mutter back as you fish out your wallet. the cashier rings up your total and you press your card to the reader. "how was your lunch with yuuji?"

"good. we cut it short to save you," he bluntly says. you blink as he glares at your date. "i don't like the guy you're with."

"me neither," you sigh out, "i think this is the last time i'll see him. but i gotta' tough it out for the rest of the date."

"you could just leave now." choso adds. he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"ah... i'm not that confident—"

"a takeaway box and takeaway cup, please," choso asks the cashier. she had been sitting there and silently agreeing with you that the guy you were sitting with was a total jerk. "thank you."

he places them in your hands and pushes you gently towards the table.

"who the hell is this guy?" your date scoffs and glares at choso, who does the same back.

"look, i'm not really having a good time on this date," you say as you play with the takeaway boxes. choso hastily takes them from you and fills it with your food in an organised matter. "i think this is the farthest we go. please enjoy the rest of your food, though."

"you serious? ditching me for some jackass?" he accusingly points at choso who wears a shit-eating grin on his face. "this is bullshit!"

"calm down, god..." you groan and rub your temple, "i just don't like you, you're so rude."

"me? you're the one who dragged me to this shithole!"

"shut your mouth before i drop you right now," choso scowls as he pushes the guy back into the booth seat. everyone was watching now, quietly thanking choso for showing up and dealing with him. "grow up, man. you act like a child."

choso grabs your hand and tugs you out of the cafe. you both thank the service with your takeaway in hand. yuuji gets out of the car with a wide smile once you two get closer.

"so, how did it go?" he asks with wide eyes.

you throw your keys at his chest.

"you're driving my car back to my apartment as punishment for setting me up with that asshole," you say with a small frown. you all knew you didn't really blame him, though. "never giving my number out to anyone ever again."

yuuji apologises thoroughly before getting into your car and driving off in the wrong direction. choso opens your door and gives you the food. once he's inside the car himself, he starts it up and begins driving.

you rest a hand over choso's on the middle console.

"thanks, choso," you sigh out, "i should've done that earlier."

"it's fine, y/n, i just wished i came sooner." he replies.

you stare at the side of his face, how irritated he looked just thinking about your date. a smile settles onto your lips and you brush your thumb over his knuckles. he falters and looks back to you for a second before muttering a 'what'.

"i'll take you out for dinner as a thank you," you state, which makes his ears go red, "you're a sweetheart, choso."

"i... uh, yeah, i'll go out with you," he mutters, "thanks..."

the laugh you let out is worth ruining thousands of your dates.

↣ fushiguro toji

"have you ever been to france?" the conceited finance guy in front of you asks, fixing his tie. he wears this smirk on his face that proves that he just knows how rich he was. he wasn't coy at all. you force a smile and shake your head slowly, trying to enjoy your meal at least. "really? that's a shame. i've been plenty of times before, and i've gotta say, the best part is..."

you begin to zone out, sighing to yourself as you move your pasta around on your plate haphazardly. he had chosen such a nice italian restaurant to absolutely ruin your perception of this guy after the first ten minutes of talking to him. you look to your watch, showing it had been only two hours since your date started.

cursing out shiu in your head, you cautiously look out the window to the sky. it wasn't that dark yet, but it felt like your night had been taken away. your mind wanders to yesterday to your conversation with shiu.

shoe

you're getting picked up at 5 tomorrow

y/n

am or pm?

shoe

???

shoe

don't show him how stupid you are, he's a rich guy. maybe he'll bring you to a yacht

y/n

why would i want to be on a yacht for our first date? is he nice?

shoe

he's rich, y/n. that's all that matters.

sometimes, you wonder how he managed to meet all these people. but then you remember that assholes attract assholes. they move together in flocks.

you stare at your red wine and tap your finger on your cheek.

"what do you think about it?" he questions, getting your attention again. you look up to see his smug face. did he really want to know?

"oh, me?" you asks, sitting up straight. you had no idea what he had been saying for the past 15 minutes.

"well, who else would i be talking to, silly?" he says in this mocking tone.

'yourself, it's who you've been talking to all night', you internally say. you had wasted such a nice outfit too. it was such a shame.

"mmm, well, it's a bit—" you begin, only to get interrupted.

"it's insane, isn't it? how could you lose so much money in only a year?" he barks out a laugh, as obnoxious as he was. the table shakes as he bangs his fist against it, waiters and guests looking towards you two. "it's absolutely preposterous! i would never make such a decision like that."

you chew out an awkward laugh before turning to your wine, sipping it.

unknowingly to you, toji was waiting in the car outside the building, getting a good view of you and your new date. he cursed shiu in a huff; not only did he set you up with someone, but the guy was a total prick. he couldn't have done a worse job, and he was broke. he pulled his seat back, watching him with pointed eyes. that guy's mouth hadn't stopped moving ever since you entered the restaurant.

and you? you looked gorgeous, your dress hugged you just right, so much so that he was jealous. toji knows it should've been him to go and take you somewhere like this.

he snaps when the guy calls the waiter over, complaining about his half-eaten food and causing a scene. you looked so uncomfortable. standing up, you excused yourself to the bathroom. and toji is quick to get out of the car.

"he's such an asshole." toji claims as you exit the ladies room. you freeze, pressing out the creases of your dress before walking closer to him at the end of the hall.

"when did you get here?" you ask, hand on your hip, "and how do you know he's an asshole?"

"been watchin' the whole time from the car," he tells you, watching as you widen your eyes and tilt your head at him, "what? couldn't help myself. shiu said you were on a date with some rich guy, 'n i had to see it."

"yeah, well, remind me to kill shiu. he's got the worst taste in men." you sigh out, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall with him. he peers at you. "you know he asked to try every single wine they had before we ordered? and he complained about the merlot not being darker. not only that, he saw my plate and said 'are you gonna' eat all of that?'. the dickhead!"

"that shit looked good." he commented, shaking his head, "who wouldn't finish that food."

"right? ugh, i hate him so much. and he hasn't even asked me about myself other than my name. he explained to me his 'entrepreneurship' and dropshipping. wanted to clock him in the face." you complained more, only fueling toji's own hate for the man.

he lifts himself off the wall, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. "go 'n get your things. we're gettin' out of here."

"what? what am i supposed to say to him?" you mumble, stumbling behind him, "where are we going?"

"don't say anything to him. if ya' feel bad, pay for your own food." he explains to you, hand moving to rest on your back, "i'm not lettin' you waste that pretty little dress on someone like that guy."

you stare at the back of his head before falling into step with him, stopping at the table with your date. he does a double take once he sees toji, slowly standing up.

"who's he?" he asks, scanning him up and down.

"none of your business." toji retorts, looking down at him.

you begin to grab your purse when he holds out his hand to you. "where the hell are you going?" your date asks you.

"here. for my food." you say, handing him a fifty. the note flutters onto the table in front of him, which he stares at in awe. tugging on your jacket, you stare back at him with furrowed brows. "good luck in life."

with that, you turn around and begin to walk to the exit. behind you, toji sticks his tongue out at the other man and follows after. his hand finds your back once more and you wait to cross the road, sighing out to him, "thank you, toji. saved me."

"no problem." he replies, opening the door for you.

"how did you get in my car?" you ask, sitting in the driver's seat.

"don't ask." he tosses you the keys, making you wonder even more. he gets into the other side, looking back at you. “we’ll hit up that restaurant downtown. the one you always talk about wanting to go to.”

“but you said you don’t like their cuisine.” you claim, starting the car.

“it’s the only place i know that’s fancy.” he explains, looking out the window.

“sweetheart, i wouldn’t say that’s fancy—”

“do you want to go out or not?”

you laugh, reaching out a hand and holding his. he gives a small smile before looking back at you. “thank you, toji.” you say, stopping at a red light. you glance at him, sincere look in your eyes. “it means a lot that you care.”

“jus’ saving you from being stupid as fuck.” he tells you, making you roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, “could ya’ not tell he was a tool when he didn’t knock at your door? motherfucker waited in his car.”

“my god, you’ve been watching since then? toji!” you jokingly reprimand, looking at him for a split second, "i should've known from the start though... he was on his phone the whole time, in the car ride. on bluetooth speaker too."

"i woulda' jumped out the car." he retorts, shaking his head, "we should jump shiu."

"we really should." you laugh, smiling at him, "maybe for our next date."

toji can't help but roll his eyes. he knows deep down that you were hoping shiu was going to set you up with him instead. he can see it on your face, a smile that is pushing through on your lips. you're secretly happy that it was toji who 'ruined' your 'date'.

"i say that because i know you can't pay for dinner."

"did you think i was paying for this one?"

you scoff back, elbowing him, "you leech."

"you know you love me." he says it teasingly, but he knows better than anyone that you actually do.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo x reader #choso #choso x reader #kamo choso #kamo choso x reader #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 day

Text

mean mouth

foreword: and if I said Eddie liked when you talked a lil' mean to him. what then. n e ways. just a little exploration of his early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3

cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved

wc: 3.7k

____

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.

Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master.

“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.”

“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious.

“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”

You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.

“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.

It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering.

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”

That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.

“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.

There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.

Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”

“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”

His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”

A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard.

“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”

“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”

There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”

“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.

“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”

His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.

___

The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.

Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.

The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats.

He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.

“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”

Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.

It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.

A charming wink precedes, “Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness.

He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls.

Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.

Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.

There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire).

Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.

The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space.

In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”

At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.

And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again.

Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.

Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”

“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”

Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink.

Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand.

Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”

Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”

“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink.

There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

___

The next time, though? Totally on purpose.

There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night.

And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue.

“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”

His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.

Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”

“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”

The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place.

Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”

His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”

“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips.

“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.

“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.

You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”

Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.

When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth.

Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.

On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.

“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”

As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.

There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse.

The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.

Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”

Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.

“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”

“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.

Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.

And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”

Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”

With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks.

As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.

The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.

“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat.

“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”

His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”

His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.

Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep.

Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”

It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room.

Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).

“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”

Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.

Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.

He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.

Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin.

His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”

The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”

“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.

Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.”

He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

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moonstruckme · 2 days

Note

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off.

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other.

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment.

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up.

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort.

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?”

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped.

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it.

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright.

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.”

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede.

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.”

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.”

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.”

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?”

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state.

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your complexion is flushed and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed.

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?”

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.”

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?”

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.”

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive.

You look suspicious. “Do you?”

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...”

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need.

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly.

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh.

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest.

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you.

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch.

“Is that a yes?”

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.”

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?”

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.”

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?”

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.”

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care.

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?”

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face.

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly.

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop.

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment.

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur.

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face.

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you.

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep.

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afatkidclub · 1 day

Text

Older Boyfriend Simon Riley

Thanks to the notes on my last post, I will be posting this blurb here. It's just for shits and giggles.

Older Boyfriend!Simon Riley who has been the best boyfriend you have ever had.

Refuses to let you call a handyman. Leaky sink? He had it fixed before you even knew there was a problem. Squeaky desk chair? Suddenly completely silent.

Gets really competitive with Mario Kart and refuses to play again after losing a couple of rounds. Gets really into Minecraft but doesn’t let you help build things because “You’re doing it wrong” even though you’re the one who taught him how to play

Does not understand girl math.

-- “The fuck you mean it’s not real money

-- “If I use cash, it’s free because it doesn’t come out of my account. Therefore it’s not real money.”

-- “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

-- Now drops cash in your purse so that you have “fake” money to use.

Hates girl dinner only because he knows that a bowl of popcorn or a couple crackers and cheese is not a full meal.

A year of his life drops off every time he hears you saying “I’m doing it for the plot.”

Refuses to download tiktok but will watch them on your phone with you for hours at a time

Went on a very long lecture about the Roman Empire and how it came to be (talk specifically about the military aspect) once you mentioned something was your Roman empire. Didn’t even notice you had fallen asleep halfway through the lecture. Still doesn’t know what you mean when you say something is your Roman Empire.

Has absolutely no idea what you mean when you say “same.”

-- You had to explain that it was just something you said when you found anything relatable

-- “What the bloody hell could be relatable about a plastic bag blowing across the road.”

Has attempted to use the word slay in a sentence and it only ended with you in the longest laughing fit known to man.

Listens to you explain celebrity beef and wonders why you talk about them like you know them personally and how you know all this information.

Vine references, goes right over his head.

-- One time quoted “Road work ahead, uh yeah I sure hope it does” after you had done it so many times, you nearly choked to death on air that day.

Emojis are his worst enemy. Never gets the message when you try to hint at something using emojis.

Learns very early on that anytime you two go out for errands, you require a sweet treat.

-- Uses going out to get a sweet treat as an excuse to take you out on dates

-- Also makes sure to buy you a sweet treat anytime you complete a task you didn’t want to do.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley hcs #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost hcs #call of duty hcs #call of duty #ghost call of duty

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ervotica · 3 days

Note

i just saw someone talk about pornstar!patrick and my third eye opened up

shut up i’ll die actually

warnings; smut, 18+, fem!reader, pornstar!patrick, p in v sex, allusions to reader being eaten out, patrick is hot <3

a/n; i’m insane for this actually. pls send more pornstar!patrick asks i’ll beg for them 🥹

this is him <3

thinking of a self made pornstar!patrick, started off making solo videos of him jerking off in the dirty backseat of his car. utterly surprised when viewers couldn’t get enough of him and he earned enough money to make a living off of making porn of himself.

he starts inviting other men, women - anyone who shows interest in him and his videos - to shoot with him, and soon he has a plethora of people lining up for a chance to fuck him, even if it’s on camera.

he bypasses the entire queue when he catches wind of you, a soft little thing with a mean streak he so desperately wants to explore, and he’s running straight to your messages to set a date.

he pays for your transport and your stay — a five star hotel that is far more expensive than anywhere you’ve been in your entire life.

it doesn’t feel orchestrated when the camera starts filming. it doesn’t feel like an act as he works you up with his hot breath over your cunt and two thick fingers that sink into your weeping hole. it doesn’t feel fake when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug, relishing in the way he moans and ruts his hips into the plush bed beneath you.

and it certainly doesn’t feel fake when he makes you cum harder than you ever have before.

his viewers all envy you, want to be you, when he folds your legs to your chest and feeds you his cock inch by inch. it’s a tight fit, that’s for sure, but you’ve never felt more full, more stretched in your life, and you fucking love it.

the way the head of his cock, a visceral red, notches against your entrance as he sinks in in in, further than you thought possible until the weeping slit burrows against your cervix, the way you keen and clutch at his shoulders as he murmurs praises because you’re being so good, baby, just a little more now.

he’s barely one thrust in before you’re cumming around him with a shudder and a cry, and it’s stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, so easy the way he takes you apart because he’s already memorised your cunt, already knows how to fuck it.

and he’s hooking his arms beneath the dip of your spine, dragging you up to meet his hot mouth in a greedy kiss, all tongues and teeth and fire and passion, and that paired with the way he’s fucking you - the filthy roll of his hips that never slows, never stops - is enough to have you cumming round him again.

he fucks like he’s in love with you and he hates you all at once, spears you open on his cock and keeps you spread out beneath him, teases and taunts until you growl with frustration and claw at him. it makes him laugh, a low, gravelly sound against your lips as he concedes and pistons his hips into you with more fervour than before.

once you’re well and truly fucked out, you crawl between his legs and wrap your mouth around him, and he’s sure he meets god.

and then the camera comes off, and a switch flips in him as he watches you laying on the bed, breathing heavily, eyes closed, a sleepy smile on your face.

patrick zweig might just be in love.

the video skyrockets in views and profits, climbing straight to the most popular he’s ever made. viewers beg him to keep you as a permanent fixture within his channel. and, well, who would he be if he didn’t give the people what they want?

challengers taglist; @diorrfairy @igotmajordaddyissues @xotwod-jade @imbabycowboy @cloudnitee @hobocatton

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day-dreamed · 2 days

Text

spencer reid x reader

you fall asleep during movie night with spencer.

cw: fem!non-bau!reader, roommate!spencer, fluffy fluff fluff, pining, mostly from spencer’s pov

You try to stay awake for the whole movie. Really, you do. But your eyelids are so heavy, and you can feel yourself nearly melting into the cushions of the couch. Next to you, Spencer is still laser focused on the screen, his knee bouncing up and down in anticipation.

“I’m not sure about you, but I think this might be the craziest movie I’ve ever seen,” he gapes. “I mean, even I don’t think I could tell you what just happened.”

A mumble is what he gets in response. He glances over at you quickly, then does a double take. Your eyes have closed and you’re starting to lean close to him, your shoulder nudging his own.

“(Y/n)?” Spencer asks softly.

“Mhm,” you hum.

You’re too tired to think about how you’re now resting your head on his shoulder, or how you snuggle even closer into his side. You don’t feel him freeze, unsure of how to react.

“You—you’re going to miss the ending,” he breathes out. His mouth has gone dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as he rubs sweaty palms on his sweatpants.

“Don’t care. Tell me in the morning?” you ask softly.

“I… sure, yeah.”

It isn’t long before Spencer hears your breaths even out, soft snores spilling from your lips. He doesn’t move a muscle for the rest of the movie, afraid he’ll wake you up if he does. When the credits start to roll, he tries to get up without startling you. But somehow you sense his movement and your arms shoot out, wrapping around his waist. His face burns.

“Don’t go,” you mumble.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? Just need to move you to your bed, you’ll be sore when you wake up if you stay out here all night,” Spencer whispers.

“Wanna sleep with you.”

He swears his heart stops beating. “Are—are you sure?” he stutters out. “My bed isn’t really that big and—”

“‘S fine,” you say.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. Yeah, of course you can sleep with me.”

As gently as he can, Spencer untangles you from himself and gets up. He bends down and slips his arms under your knees and back, lifting you up bridal style. Your eyes flutter slightly as you sling your arms around his neck. Slowly, he carries you into his bedroom and places you atop the mattress as gingerly as he can. A small smile curves your lips as your head leans onto the pillow.

“Thanks, Spence. Love you.”

He pauses, his eyes widening and heart thumping wildly in his chest. Did he just hear you say what he thinks you said? Spencer’s sure his cheeks are a deep, dark red as a sudden lump forms in his throat, though he manages to swallow around it.

He leans down before he loses the courage and presses a soft kiss to your temple, butterflies exploding in his stomach at the soft sigh you let out.

“Love you, too.”

He steps away to get ready for bed, trying to convince himself that you’ll have no memory of this by the time you wake up in the morning.

You won’t, right?

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jakeswifey · 2 days

Text

CALLING ENHYPEN BY THE WRONG NAME AS A PRANK

genre fluff, crack? pairing enha x reader word count 432 warnings mentions of cheating, jealousy(obv), kinda hints about sex?

heeseung wouldn't even be fazed by it. he'll just simply raise his eyebrows and ask you "did i hear you right?" when you confirm what he heard the first time was indeed right. he'd simply toss you over his shoulder saying, “i thought by now you’d now my name since you screa-” "shut up"

jay would do a double take instantly, head whipping so fast that he might accidentally sprain his neck. "what did you just call me baby? is there something you wanna tell me?" when you try to explain that it's just a prank he doesn’t find you funny, not even in the slightest. "you need to stop doing these pranks y/n"

jake would fall for it instantly, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion until he met your eyes. he'd give you a playful smirk, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "did i hear that correctly?" he'd ask, his voice laced with humor. when you confirm, he'd chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "well, well, well, looks like someone's got jokes today." with a swift motion, he'd pull you under him "you sure you're ready for the consequences of calling me that?" he'd say as he starts tickling you

sunghoon would pause for a moment, his expression shifting from whatever he was doing to a focused look, his eyes locking onto yours with a hint of seriousness. "Excuse me?" he'd say, his tone calm but enough to send shivers down your spine, giving you a chance to reconsider what you just said.

sunoo would play along with you "love why would you call me jungwon, you’re not… cheating on me with him right? I mean why else would you call me by his name" he'd say trying so hard to not laugh, but when he'd see your shocked face the giggles spill out as he laughs loudly, his smile stretched wide, his eyes crinkled shut and it’s like music to your ears because god is that the cutest thing ever.

jungwon would not be impressed either. because why are you calling him by some random ass name? he’s glaring and he’s glaring hard. his eyes would turn into a blank annoyed stare when you'd continue to call him by this ridiculous name

riki was caught way too off-guard. boy had to spit out the water he was drinking when he heard you call him sunoo. "thats not my name!" he'd choke out as he glares at you "hey, hey i’m sorry baby it was just a joke…” you'd say patting his back. "one of your jokes will be the death of me istg"

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kenntolog · 16 hours

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Can’t get loser gf and sukuna visiting the zoo with yuji out of my head, maybe you could do something with that?

𝝑𝝔 an: it’s such a sweet concept!! thank you baby, hope you enjoy!! and sorry for responding so late ;(

initially, it was jin who was supposed to take little yuuji to the zoo, but he is a busy man, y’know? so of course, he just forces his younger brother sukuna to do that instead.

sukuna is very lame about, he acts like he doesn’t want to deal with yuuji because he is kind of an asshole, but as soon as jin mentions that he can also bring you along and he will pay for the tickets himself — after a beat of silence sukuna quickly mutters ‘fine’, ending the call, and texts you about picking you up in an our.

yuuji is so excited to spend the day with his uncle!! i imagine him being so happy he can barely stop himself from running and jumping around. and the only person to match his excitement is you, heh.

yuuji didn’t know that you were coming along too so of course when he sees sukuna walking out of the building they stopped by with you, he rushes out of the car to greet you! you’re just as joyful as him as you hug him and place a gentle kiss on his cheek, making him smile widely. his uncle watches the scene silently, with adoration brimming in his eyez, coming to his senses a second later to bark at both of you to get in the car.

throughout the ride yuuji entertains you with various short stories including jin and some of little friends from the neighbourhood, which you intently listen to, completely ignoring sukuna’s huffing and puffing since you exchanged your usual spot at the passenger’s seat with yuuji’s on the backseat.

when you arrive at the zoo, yuuji tugs you out and just runs inside while sukuna parks the car. at that, he rolls his eyes and intentionally slows down his pace just to rile up itadori, who swings your hands around just to do something and puffs his cheeks at his uncle’s annoying tendencies.

yuuji is in so much awe when the three of you finally enter!! hands over his cheeks as he inhales sharply before running off to the first animal he sets his big eyes on; loudly calling you and sukuna to come see whilst sukuna takes the opportunity to hold your hand instead and lazily walk you both over to his nephew.

you can’t stop looking at yuuji, he’s just so adorable and lovable :( the way he talks to every animal he sees and tries to make friends with them, AHH HE SO CUTE i can’t. just, imagine this little boy running around and you taking pictures of him when he’s posing with a tiger that’s right by his side behind the glass, when he’s feeding a monkey, when he’s laughing at deer taking a shit😭😭.

when it gets too crowded, sukuna sees the impatience on yuuji’s face, who tries to jump as high as he can to see the next animal, and lifts him to place him on his shoulders. of course, he’s cranky about it too, complaining about how heavy yuuji is and threatening to throw him down into the one of the exhibits, but in reality, hearing yuuji’s joyful laughter is one of his favourite things in the world so he lets him hang up there until the end.

you manage to capture that sweet moment in a picture: sukuna’s eyes looking up at his nephew, a small smile on his lips paired with a soft expression, while yuuji is holding up a piece sign and beaming brighter than the sun itself.

when you’re with yuuji it seems that sometimes you and the little guy share the same braincell which means that you’re no better than him when it comes to cute animals. cooing and awing at them along with the pink-haired boy, running around with him with no care for the world and being excited just like a little kid. sukuna gets all warm inside when he sees you two laughing together, his eyes projecting a pretty neat future onto the scene.

it’s just a very very nice day, y’know? very fulfilling and very peaceful.

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rebelspykatie · 2 days

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Part 2

Part 1

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.

“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”

“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.

“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.

“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”

“Are you going to trap me here?”

“Answer the question.”

“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.”

“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”

Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.

He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.

They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.

It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.

To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.

And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.

“Steve-”

“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”

With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.

And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.

But it haunts him.

If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.

But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.

And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.

He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.

And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #again I promise this will have a happy ending #feel free to yell at me #angst #the comfort is COMING I swear

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 days

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sleeping beauty | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

spencer checked the time and date, one thirty pm on june tenth. he took a deep exhale then pulled open his top desk drawer, staring at him were two tickets for a screening of the french adaptation for sleeping beauty. he remembered you mentioning how she was your first princess movie to own on vhs, saying how the ending dance sequence was truly enchanting.

usually spencer goes to these film festivals by himself, but when this was one of the movies announced for the weekend, he decided now was the time. spencer reid was gonna toughen up and ask you on a date.

“hey reid,” he startled at the feminine voice beside his desk. he shut the drawer closed and turned to see elle watching him with raised brows, “everything okay?” crossing her arms and cocking a hip against his desk.

“ye- yeah. is there- was there something you needed?” hoping she doesn’t mention anything about his weird behavior, but most people would argue he’s always weird.

elle pursed her lips, “uh no. just wanted to know what’s got you sweating in this cooled office.” profiling nonchalantly. spencer bit into his bottom lip, his own brows raising as he squinted his eyes, “i- i don’t know-“

his sentence stopped short when he heard your gentle giggles and then his eyes followed your figure as you walked beside penelope. your eyes caught his and you waved in greeted, smiling widely as you continued on your walk.

“so something involving our second best liaison.” elle hummed, spencer flinched again. he forget she was still there, “n- no…” his stuttering more present whenever you were of the subject.

elle perked up and leaned forward, her eyes were alight, “are you finally asking her out?” almost squealing at the idea.

“what do you mean, finally?” spencer questioned. he didn’t tell anyone about his infatuation with you. elle rolled her smokey eyes, “oh please. you may have an iq of one eighty seven, but whenever she’s in the vicinity or mentioned it’s slashed to sixty.”

spencer felt his cheeks warm, he hunched into himself, “that’s not true.” mumbling into his chest. “you also stopped talking just to watch her walk down the hallway,” elle scuffed.

spencer licked his lips and figured there was no point in lying, plus elle might give him some advice for the date. “i’m- i’m planning to take her to a movie festival. they’re playing a french version of sleeping beauty.”

elle cooed, “gonna whisper the translation in her ear? that’s a pretty morgan move to do.”

that worried spencer, “that wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, right? i don’t want her thinking-“ elle held out her hands to stop his anxious rambles.

“just ask her. when presenting the tickets, ask if it’s okay to translate for her. if she says no, there might be something the theater has to fix that problem. but i’m sure she won’t mind.”

“who won’t mind what?”

spencer’s heart rate spiked when your voice was in earshot, then when elle moved to the side to show you joining the both of them he knew his ears started to flush red. he opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to steer the conversation.

“oh, how jj won’t mind if spencer steals you for a chat. i’ll go double check.” and with that fib elle sauntered away, leaving you confused.

“you wanted to talk with me?” hands held behind your back as you tilted your head. it prompted spencer to stand up, your head needing to lean back a bit to make eye contact.

he rubbed his palms along his pants, “uh yeah. i was- there’s this film festival that i visit regularly, many foreign originals or adaptations. and there’s gonna be a screening for a french sleeping beauty and i- i was wondering if you’d… would you like to- to go on a- on a date? with me?” he stuffed his hands into his pockets at the end when he noticed all his fidgeting.

your lips parted slightly and your head straightened, “i’d- i’d love too,” eyes twinkling like a star. “but i don’t know french.” an embarrassed smile at the information.

spencer moved a hand to scratch at his ear, “i- i could translate it for you. but i’d have to speak quietly and into your ear, is that- are you okay with that? we- we could also ask the employees for-“

you stopped him when you stepped closer and touched his forearm, a sweet smile shining upon him. “you can translate for me. i like listening to your voice.” your words a sweet syrup dripping over his heart.

spencer nodded dumbly, “o- okay. it’s- it’s friday at- at seven. so we can just- just leave after work.”

you nodded, “it’s a date.”

pt2

#erin writes spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x liaison!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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box-of-roses · 3 days

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♡.﹀﹀Chapstick﹀﹀.♡

Characters: Tsukki, Kageyama, Hinata, Makki, Mattsun, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Atsumu

Warnings: None that I can think of <3

Synopsis: What chapstick I think the different Haikyuu characters would use

Tsukki

Strawberry

Probably not one to just have chapstick on him at all times so he steals yours

When you first notice he’s been stealing your chapstick you can’t help but smile

Everytime you kiss it tastes like strawberries now because he’s started carrying his own supply of chapstick so you kiss him more often (not that he would admit that)

“Kei, have you seen my chapstick?” You ask as you start looking around the room. You were sure you left it in here. Not on the table, not on the couch…where could it have gone?

“Yeah, I have it right here. You really need to be more careful where you leave your things dummy.” He rolls his eyes and holds out the chapstick to you. You notice a sheen across his lips though and smile a little.

“Did you use my chapstick?”

“And if I did? What are you gonna do about it?” You laugh a little and lean into his face.

“My lips are a little chapped if you don’t mind.” With that you kiss him and while he’s still in shock take your chapstick back. “You know if you wanted to use it you could’ve just asked.”

Kageyama

Milk Tea

He unlike some others on this list would keep chapstick on him

You’re the one who steals his chapstick

He gets the same flavor every time and goes to one specific store because it’s the only one that carries that flavor

“Tobi, take me with you!” You cling to him. He rolls his eyes and shrugs a bit to get you up and walking by yourself.

“Sure, you can come with me. Maybe you can get some of your own chapstick while you’re at it.” He teases and gives you a smile. You shove him playfully.

“Then where would be my reason to kiss you?”

“Maybe you can just kiss your boyfriend?” He raises an eyebrow at you and opens the door to the store for you.

“Nah! It’s more fun this way.”

He gets jealous when you do in fact find a chapstick and stop kissing him when your lips get chapped

He 100% hides the chapstick so you have to come to him again

Hinata

Cake

Another one to steal your chapstick

It was a random one you had in your bag so you just gave it to him from your stash

Definitely only uses cake flavors now because it reminds him of you

Hinata looked around everywhere for the small tube of vanilla cake chapstick you had given him. He was upset that he couldn’t find it. Where was it? He looked everywhere before he gave up. He was sulking on the couch when you returned home. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” He sniffles.

You rush over to him and sit down in front of him. “Oh, Sho, what’s wrong?” You cup his face.

“I lost the chapstick you gave me.” You start laughing.

“Is that it?” You smile and rummage through your bag before pulling out another chapstick. “I have more, you know.” You hand the chapstick to him. Birthday Cake.

You noticed he liked the cake flavors so you kept a stash with you at all times incase he happened to lose another one

He found the chapstick he lost the next week, turns out he left it at practice

When you lose your chapstick though he’s there proudly offering the one you gave to him

Makki

Hot Coco

Got it on a whim

Now during Christmas time he stocks up because you told him you liked how his lips tasted once

This doesn’t mean he doesn’t like playing tricks on you though

Remember that trend where people were kissing their partners with lip plumper? Yeah he 100% did that to you

Makki smiled as his plan was coming together. You were going to come home any minute and he was the picture of a doting boyfriend. Sitting on the couch waiting patiently for you to return so you could give him a kiss.

When you do finally walk through the door you smile and rush to your boyfriend. He’ll never get over how your face lights up when you see him. It’s probably one of his favorite things, that he can make you happy just by being there. You immediately go down to kiss him. After a few minutes though your lips start tingling. Your eyes narrow at him. “Makki. Did you put lip plumper on?”

“Are my kisses that electric to you honey?” He says with a shit eating grin on his face. Well, that answers that question.

It’s okay though, you get back at him

You two keep each other on your toes but there’s no denying that when you kiss him and taste hot coco you fall in love all over again

Iwaizumi

Mint

A traditional man

Not against changing flavors if you give it to him though

He always has one on him, a habit he picked up from Oikawa

Definitely teases you though when you first kissed him and recoiled because you weren’t expecting mint

You had finally worked up enough nerve to kiss Iwaizumi. You lean in slowly but once your lips touch you jump back. Your lips tingle and you’re not sure why. Iwaizumi starts laughing though. “My lips are so tingly!” You whisper-yell and put your hand over your mouth. It’s then that you notice the smell of mint. “Hajime! How could you,” you push him back a little.

“Sorry my love! I didn’t know you would react like that!” This time though you’re prepared when he kisses you again. The tingling of the mint fades away quickly and it’s replaced by the warmth of his lips

As a result his kisses are cold and then warm

You learn to love the cold and find it refreshing, especially if he’s coming back from his morning run and you need a kiss to wake you up

Pair that with his mint toothpaste and you’ve got a recipe to wake you up and get ready for the day

Mattsun

Blueberry Poptart

He tries to find the weirdest flavors he can

He just also really likes the Blueberry Poptart flavor though so it’s the one he always comes back to

It’s a hard flavor to find but he thinks it’s worth it for the smile you make when you notice the flavor

Chapstick game with his collection

Mattsun thought with his collection of wacky flavors it would be fun to play the chapstick game. A good excuse to kiss you as much as he wanted to without any other reason. Of course you agreed so here the two of you were, sitting on your bed with chapstick splayed out on the blanket.

“So, do you want to go first?” You ask as you look at all the options. Mattsun smiles and nods.

“Yeah, sure. Close your eyes though. No cheating.” He could care less about if you cheated or not. He just wanted to kiss you for hours. Hence why he brought out his full collection of 60 different flavors. You were going to be here for a while.

It was the chapstick you were wearing on your first date when he kissed you (That’s why he comes back to it)

You two also definitely play the chapstick game again whenever either of you want to kiss each other without a good reason

Sakusa

Cherry

Another simple man

He just wants his lips to be hydrated

Enjoys your smile when you kiss him and realize it’s cherry though

There’s nothing sentimental about it you just like the taste of cherry chapstick

Your first kiss wasn’t anything spectacular. The both of you were nervous but weren’t sure why. The two of you had kissed other people before so why was it so nerve wracking this time? Sakusa is the one who gets his head together first and cups your face. He pulls down his mask and smiles softly at you. “Are you ready?”

You nod your head with a shaky smile. Both of you lean in and it’s a very nice kiss. It’s gentle and you’re not sure why you were so worried before. The both of you pull away with a smile. “That wasn’t so scary. We were just being silly. Also, the cherry is nice. I like it.” You say and lean back in for another. He lets out a small chuckle and leans back in too.

Will only try a new chapstick if you’re the one wearing it

If he really wants to try it he’ll give you a quick kiss before standing back up and acting like nothing happened

Atsumu

Fanta

Another weird chapstick connoisseur

He just really likes Fanta so he keeps some on him wherever he goes

He has at least 6 of them at a time; One in his gym bag, school bag, pants pocket, jacket pocket, one at home on the counter, and one on the bedside table

Also on that enjoys the shocked look on your face

He had only just started carrying around chapstick after he learned your lips could get sunburnt. Needless to say when you kissed him goodbye that morning Fanta was certainly not what you were expecting to taste. He just stands there smirking as you lick your lips confused. “Is that…Fanta? Do you have Fanta chapstick?”

“Guilty as charged.” He says and leans against the door frame. “Want another one?” You roll your eyes but pull him into another kiss.

“Not what I was expecting but it’s not bad.”

Switches it up with other soda flavors

Loves surprising you but that doesn’t mean you can’t surprise him too

You find a Pepper chapstick and rewrap it so it looks like the Fanta one

Payback for all the times he’s pranked you

I hope you guys enjoyed! Once again an impulse post 💀 let me know if you want a part two with different characters!!! <3

masterlist

rules

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hitlikehammers · 3 days

Text

Steddie Missed Connection AU

feat. Craigslist-trawling-wingwoman!Robin + earnest-LA-transplant!Steve + rockstar!Eddie ✨ inspired by this actual Craigslist love story

It’s always about a 50/50 shot when Robin starts making her little back-of-the-throat squealing noises. Up to a certain pitch, Steve could pretend he had his AirPods on noise cancellation mode.

Once she reached fire-alarm-screeching levels, it overrode the settings and boom: he lost his fall guy.

Thanks, Apple.

But that’s where they are, and the squealing plus the screen in her hands, plus the way her leg’s bouncing against the table they’re both sitting at—which would have overrrode Steve’s AirPod excuse in about a minute because she’s gonna start splashing his glass of orange juice in a hot second—but all of it lumped together?

He’s lucky he’s retained his athletic reflexes post-high school—maybe only because of being joined-at-the-hip with this particular platonic soulmate, really—because by the time she’s swinging her iPad from its case to plop right down in front of him?

At least he’s quick enough to save his overnight oats from becoming aluminum-flavored when she drops the goddamn thing down without warning—caseless, the heathen—and makes indecipherable noises Steve thinks he’s maybe only heard at the zoo as she taps her nail with an migraine-inducing click on the screen.

Steve…supposes this means he’s obligated to look.

He sighs, fully expecting a dumb meme or a ‘cute TikTok’ because he knows who he fucking lives with; he reaches across the table and unfolds his glasses—really, assaulting him with this before he can even get his contacts in…

And it’s a…webpage. Like: just a webpage. A boring webpage, even. Definitely not matching up with the…squealing and table-sized earthquake of bouncing knees. He squints, tries to make it make sense.

Oh. Wow. He didn’t…

Steve did not actually know Craigslist still existed, let alone that people still used it. He was pretty sure the things for sale were always just kidnapping plots with extra steps, and then also that finding a person you walked past that one time was an FYP problem to solve. But.

Here, in front of him, in black and white and honestly like no other color:

Steve squints; it was posted this morning, but only just. Like 4am. So the last afternoon for there to be a one o’clock hour was—

Yesterday.

His yesterday was uneventful. Went shopping with Robs. Filled up the freezer and overbought shit again so they had a kind of massive and wholly mismatched dinner with the leftovers nearly popping open the fridge door. Can’t take the Midwesterner out of the man or woman, apparently.

Definitely nothing like the day this poor soul on a maybe-less-dead-than-presumed website had had. But Steve won’t pretend his heart doesn’t clench a little when he finishes reading because…it’s cheesy.

But Steve’s always been into that romantic…stuff.

“That’s very sweet,” he lands on commenting before passing the tablet back to Robin, who’s staring at him with frankly terrifying eyes. Like: lost-your-fucking-mind eyes.

“Steven.”

“What?”

“Steven.”

“Robin.”

He won’t even pretend he doesn’t jump with the metal slams on the wood where Robin narrowly misses flipping his bowl of sadly-abandoned oats with her iPad again when she slaps it down in from of him and points frantically yet again.

“Look at the location.”

Steve tilts his head.

Oh. He’d just looked at the time. And it’s not like the location in the title was…unique on its own.

“Huh,” he huffs with a shrug when he sees their part of the city listed in the main link up top. “Coinkydink.”

Robin’s growl starts deep, like a diaphragmatic thrum and Steve would be terrified of her if she were anyone else.

As it is: he’s only mildly unsettled. Specifically because the growl rumbles so…long.

Like at least a minute before she screams bloody fucking murder:

“My hair was in the buns!”

And the way she screeches it, and the maniacal twitch of those eyes…she’s saying more than those words, with those words.

Which means Steve has to put in effort to follow her coded message style of communicating, fucking hell. He hasn’t even eaten his breakfast.

He tries to think it through, at least manages to down his glass of OJ so it can’t be a sacrifice to flying iPads when he thinks he…

“Wait.”

Steve frowns. Robin just blinks.

“You don’t,” he shakes his head, or starts to, it’s a slow motion thing; “you don’t like honestly think,” but even as he’s saying it, the look in her eyes starts to make sense, and answers for him:

“This is not about me.”

Because: seriously.

“We were laughing!” Robin is immediate with her rebuttal, still in her screeching era. “No one else was there!”

“Because we specifically time our shopping for when people are at lunch on a weekday,” Steve counters quick, tries to cut her off at the pass; “a statistically slow window of opportunity for us to debate the list!”

“We write the list to avoid debating,” Robin answers in a more sedate, be reasonable now, dingus tone before she shakes her head and scowls and:

“Stop distracting me!”

Yep, back to the screeching.

“Why were you even on that fucking site?” Steve sighs as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

“Steven,” Robin says again in that fucking tone that always means he’s missing the biggest, far-more-important point but does jack shit to help him find it.

“Robina.”

“Not my name, eww.”

“Well, now you know how I feel when you make up a middle name for me,” Steve sticks his tongue out very maturely to her scrunched up face: “they’re never even nice ones,” he adds, because they’re really not; “and I do know that was your next move so,” he smacks his hands opposite the screen on the table in front of him in victory as he crows:

“Denied.”

“This isn’t basketball,” Robin’s working her tongue around her lips inside her mouth, which is always deadly foreshadowing; “you didn’t block my shot or whatever—“

“Didn’t I?” Steve pushes because, well, one, he did, and two, the original conversation was absurd even for them.

“Maybe it was so empty because his security was there.”

Steve frowns. The tone’s too…even. No. No: too haughty.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I said he looked like a rockstar,” she leans to grab back her tablet and poke near the top, obviously switching browser tabs: “so I did some digging.”

“Robin, what city do we live in?” Steve asks as she works, because yes, Steve remembers seeing a very hot fucking dude staring less in their direction than looking dumbstruck-lost as hell, and he’d considered walking over to ask if he needed help—Midwestern transplant to the bone—which was accompanied by the stray I’d fuck that gorgeous toothpick silly, but in the paper product aisle, like on the 48-count pack of Charmin, he looks soft under all that leather—then both thoughts were swiftly abandoned when the toothpick’s eyes met Steve’s and Steve maybe had to force himself to finish laughing at a joke he can’t remember now, that Robin told, because his skin felt like it was burning a little except the sun had poked behind a cloud, and his throat, it had like, it had just, it—

It just felt…weird.

He does remember that.

“But we don’t see rockstars every day,” which is fair, their neighborhood in particular is less music biz than others.

“Plus, look at this!”

Then she’s shoving the iPad back in front of Steve: it’s a TMZ shot or some other pap photo that’s more than half blur. It is indeed the parking lot at their Costco. And it does…feature a toothpick-esque figure looking similar to the one Steve remembers, but it’s more from the back than the side. And like, anyone can wear that much black in the summer. It’s a free country.

“And look at him!”

She split-screens to a Wikipedia article about a band even Steve’s heard of, if not for listening to them himself. It…he glances at the paparazzi shot.

Lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin Sighted Getting Groceries Just Like Normal People in Mar—

And then he looks back to the wiki: okay. Same band name. The guy with the guitar in the photo looks…

He has the same hair.

“Don’t tell me it’s just coincidence.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“It is just coincidence.”

“Steve.”

Steve feels his face sour.

“I know that tone,” because he does. It never leads to things he enjoys.

“You’ve thought about him.”

“He was gorgeous,” Steve thinks he surprises her with his honesty but like, what does he have to gain by lying? Plus:

“LA’s is like the plastic surgery capital of the fucking world, it’d be kinda sad if a lot of people generally weren’t pretty.”

“He wasn’t that kind of pretty.”

And fuck if they don’t share a brain cell; fuck if she doesn’t see right through him.

“And that’s not why you’ve been thinking about him.”

And fuck if she doesn’t know Steve, far too well.

“I never once said I’d been thinking about,” he hears the words and knows they’re weak, goddamnit.

“You never had to,” Robin smiles a little and taps an annoying finger at the screen again, that’a somehow flipped right back to the Craigslist ad thingy.

And she’s actually not entirely right, because he hadn’t thought much about the gorgeous toothpick man with curls Steve wanted to be smothered by, suffocate in like a pillow. But when he did?

He’d thought most about how he looked soft, on the inside. Thought wild and idiotic things like maybe his soft could match Steve’s soft when no one else’s ever had and he was always left bruised for it, more than once near-unhealable, and maybe they could, like, if their softnesses matched, then like—

Something.

But Steve always comes on too strong, wants too much, hopes to hard and way too fast, though this shit might take the cake, there: so it was idiotic and he’d left that train of thought to derail on its own and—

Did that come on too strong?

His gaze snags on the words, those exact words up on the screen and he’s very tempted to start growling deep in the pit of his stomach, take a cue from Robin’s absurdity.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” Steve asks, looking pointedly at the clock on the microwave: he knows she does. Pottery making. For self-edification.

She scowls but looks—swears colorfully because it’s later than she thought as she jumps up and goes to presumably…do whatever she does in the bathroom to get ready to leave and look her lesbian-luring best before she gets smattered in wet clay.

Steve remains unclear on whether that look’s more or less attractive to the specific ladies she’s trying to bait.

Either way: it prompts Robin to drop her one-woman campaign insisting Steve’s soulmate of the romantic flavor is calling our desperately into the void of the internet. But it also, however, has the…side-effect of making the time itself an obvious thing. 11:09.

Rob’s gonna take the car, she’s got…supplies and stuff.

Why that’s important is…lost on him.

He could debase himself and brave the bus, if he got off at Washington and—

What the fuck.

What. The. Fuck.

Steve very forcefully shoves Robin’s iPad back across the table and doesn’t think about anything, especially not the numbers, like the number 214, like two hours and fourteen minutes until—

Steve nearly chokes himself on his fucking spoon with how violently he shoves it, full of oats, between his lips. As if he can shut his brain up as easy as he can his mouth.

It…actually kinda works. He might have chipped a tooth.

——————

In the end, Steve is proud of himself for being reasonable and having standards. He doesn’t take a fucking bus to meet a stranger in a Costco parking lot, Jesus Christ. Come on.

He books an Uber.

(And yes, he and Robin agreed no solo Ubers for a month to save up to have the air conditioner looked at before it copped out on them because their landlord only gave a shit if it was dead-dead and yes, maybe she’d gone so far as to put their account on a hold you had to call and remove to avoid temptation—though of the two of them, she definitely had the bigger problem—but little did she think on the fact that while you had to link a phone number, you could just use Google Voice and make a new account and no, Steve’s not insane, or a hopeless romantic, or almost-asking-for-heartbreak-on-the-regular, thank you very much.

He is resourceful. And it’s only like $15 with tip. It’s a quick ride.)

He asks to be dropped near the back of the lot, and takes the walk up slow. Almost goes the long way, straight into the store. Almost turns back entirely.

But then he sees those curls.

And his throat does the…the weird tight thing for no fucking reason, and his feet don’t ask permission to walk in the direction of the man standing…less dumbstruck, now. Even from the back it’s clear.

Now: he’s waiting.

Steve can barely breathe, can’t fucking swallow for the state of his throat, but his feet still aren’t waiting for permission, so it’s only fucking seconds before he’s close enough to catch a whiff of cologne and then—

“Sorry,” Steve ducks around the man from behind and reaches out automatically to steady him when he startles. “Hey, sorry, you just looked like maybe you were looking for something?” Steve smiles as open, as reassuring as he knows. “Just wanted to check if you needed any help.”

Keep it casual, Steve, keep it fucking friendly and extra polite and—

“Oh my god.”

The guy barely breathes it out, his eyes so wide, and Steve doesn’t know why he hasn’t moved his hand from the guy’s arm but Steve can feel the electric current that runs through him, like the finest grade of trembling. And electricity, right, it travels. Conducts.

In case you felt your heart skip just one beat, didn’t even have to full-on stop—

And even that proximity to this man is nothing compared to hearing his voice, low and a little syrupy even as he stares in shock, in disbelief—and oh. Oh, but what was it the guy had written in his post? About feeling the earth move a little, or like, rewiring your cells just for meeting eyes?

Steve, he’s…

Yeah. Yeah.

Okay.

“You’re here.”

Steve blinks, rocked back to the moment to deal with the new tilt of the globe and the spontaneous realignment of his insides later. This guy’s looking at Steve like he’s unbelievable, like he’s miraculous, like he’s…

Sunshine.

“I’m here?” Steve asks, a little breathy, a little curious.

“I,” the guy swallows, lips shiny as he bites at them, fucking adorable; “I saw you, umm, yesterday and I maybe, well, possibly I wrote some,” he fumbles and sounds like he’s building up to eventual hysterics, so Steve acts wholly on instinct and reaches further now to catch at both his hands.

“Relax,” Steve breathes out with a smile, and doesn’t overthink smoothing his thumbs over the guy’s knuckles, just in case it soothes him.

“My friend,” Steve lets go with one hand and grabs his phone to show the page he’d loaded on the ride here; “she was convinced it was you, about me. I wasn’t, so,” he shakes his head quick when something falls in the guy’s face, something dims: oh, umm, no.

He cannot have that.

“Not trying to catch you out or something,” Steve exhales it warm, as reassuring as he can, with his whole chest as he grabs the guy’s hands in both his own again—since he seemed to not mind; “just,” and Steve shrugs even as he smiles a little, less self-deprecating with it than he’d probably have landed on if the guy hadn’t reacted to Steve’s hands on his by clinging back so tight:

“Just a little hard to believe, is all.”

The man barely lets the words settle before his jaw drops almost comically and he demands, high-pitched and somehow still rumbling, something commanding in it nonetheless:

“How?”

Like it’s unimaginable. Like Steve reading that post and walking into this lot and striding up to a perfect stranger—who may or may not be very famous but that’s actually not even a little bit of the point—but a stranger who would want to see him—

But then Steve’s meeting the guy’s eyes again; hadn’t wholly realized he’d been staring at their hands more than anything. Those eyes are like the night sky, swirling and endless and sparking in the right slant of light, and Steve feels them like a welcome, like a cushion of the stars, like a safe landing in a chaotic universe.

He doesn’t even know this man.

But he thinks…yesterday. Yesterday, his heart didn’t stop, not like this guy had written, but Steve understands now what it did do instead, the thing he did remember, the tightness in his throat: his heart didn’t stop.

It just surged upward and took up residence to pound at his trachea where it tripped instead. Which is kinda where he’s back to right now.

“Could I,” the guy’s voice is rough, shaky, and so is he, Steve feels it where he’s still got his hand gripped firm; “would it be too much to ask if I could hug you?”

And he huffs a breath, and it sounds too….too small, like he’s afraid or ashamed and it pings something hateful, but so much more protective in Steve’s blood just to hear it as he confesses on a end of an exhale:

“I just want to know if you’re real.”

And Steve didn’t grow up a hugger, but he sure as shit’s grown into one; he’d be one of those people standing in the city with a ‘Free Hugs’ sign without much convincing. But this guy.

This man in front of him who may or may not be famous, is definitely a stranger either way save that he poured out some lines on the internet that maybe exceeded the term ‘heartfelt’ by a mile, who may or may not be standing in here, inside this moment, for something like fate because…Steve did feel it.

Maybe he didn’t think twice about the immensity it could have, not in the moment, because he’d been shopping, and Robin’s story was funny and maybe he was just struck by his luck in living a life with his platonic soulmate and knowing joy; surely your heart can trip for that and just because it never had before, just because it did this one first time when he crossed eyes with a genuinely beautiful man who left Steve with half-a-second’s certainty that looking any longer would flay wide this unknown person’s soul for Steve to sift through: but Steve felt things like that easy, always had. Romanticized nothings like it was a profession.

But it never hit like this had, has—is—before, if indeed this is actually anything—

And Steve’s heart is still tripping but it’s back in his chest, and he knows it because where he’s pressed against this guy’s kinda-gasping chest, now, close and tight? Maybe Steve’s never paid attention before, or maybe Steve’s just never…touched like this before, even if all they’re doing is hugging in a fucking parking lot.

But.

He’s pressed there and his heart’s tripping in his chest and he knows it wholly and fully because he can feel this man’s heartbeat next to his own—and where it should be a battle, because it’s pounding, both of them are, one side literally against the other?

It feels like a caress. It feels like, like…

Steve closes his eyes tight because they start to sting with the single word it feels like: impossible, absurd, but…

Here he is. He’s never felt someone’s heartbeat pressed up against his own before. Definitely never felt—never dreamt—that it could feel like it fits.

He leans back when he thinks he’s got a hold on the hopelessness of his tender-hearted absurdity, but the guy is staring at him already when he does and suddenly Steve’s got a handle on absolutely nothing except his pulse jackrabbiting some more but then also feeling…like it lost something. Like it’s not complete.

And the man, he’s staring with those eyes so wide again but now it’s like he’s…it’s kinda like he knows. He knows his eyes are going to let Steve flay him wide open.

It’s like he’s begging Steve to…look. To look and less to take, and more to…have.

Maybe, maybe to keep?

And…how?

“Do you feel it?” the guy whispers, those deep dark eyes so big: just these vulnerable, bleeding hearts on main. “Even just—“ he tries to walk back, to open it all up wider, desperate and hopeful and Steve hears all of it because it’s all written in the same key as all that Steve knows, all that Steve is. Somehow.

Somehow.

So Steve blinks, too many times before he grabs the man harder and drags him in again to hold, hold, hold until the heartbeat on either side of Steve’s ribs is reaching for the other, touching. Until they’re holding on, too, and once they do, then he can whisper, warm and maybe wet in the crook of this man’s neck, this stranger who’s holding onto his heart now, unfathomable, as he speaks words he doesn’t have to think about first to know they’re going to shift the world again, this time so they both can know it in the souls of them together, all at once:

“I feel it.”

For @hbyrde36, who requested 'Missed Connection AU' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher @lawrencebshoggoth

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