#( WC / 375 )

[tricum]

Vash waking Knives up by shoving his fingers into his cunt, asking him to fuck him through his orgasm.

“Please, please, please, m’ close, so close,” Vash whines urgently. He’s staring into his brothers shocked eyes, his own pleading with need as he maneuvers his hand and presses it between his wet legs.

It takes a moment for him to orient himself, but only a few seconds pass. Knives let’s out a husky, sleep laden “Vash,” before pressing two fingers in behind where he is urgently working over his fat clit with three fingers.

The noise Vash lets out at the wave of pleasure that washes over him is guttural and low, more animalistic and fucked out than Knives expected.

“Ohh, fuck, fuck, ’m gonna cum,” Vash mumbles, moaning under his breath as he starts riding Knives fingers with minute thrusts.

Knives curls his fingers, thrusting with more pressure as he stares at Vash’s face in awe. They never break eye contact, the moment heated. He’s dripping slick, and it puddles in Knives hand and drips down his wrist as he watches, reverently, Vash falling apart above him.

It’s been less than two minutes since he’s woken up, and he already has his brother cumming on his fingers.

Vash convulses suddenly after only a few forceful thrusts, eyes snapping shut. Knives can feel him cum. He can tell with the way his walls twitch around his fingers, and he tells Vash so as he rubs his hips and works him through it.

“Please, please, yes, haaaaaaaah, Knives, Nai, brother, yes, please, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Vash rambles. He has tears rolling down his cheeks as he pants, thighs trembling around both of their hands.

His walls turn softer as he finally comes down, breaths whineier, and when Knives finally removes his fingers, he stares in awe at the amount of slick that coats them. He looks between them and his brother, whose face is red with a dopey smile. Slowly, he realizes some of it's his cum, from their fuck last night. It’s still leaking from Vash’s cunt, accounting for part of the mess of bodily fluids that’s collected on his sheets and hand.

Despite the numerous questions he has, he’s too horny, too tired, and too damn exhilarated to say thing else before, “You’re perfect,” and crashes his lips to his.

[lgcminki]

free time — headcanons !

minki knows that this free time will be the only lapse in time where he'd be able to have a more relaxed schedule than usual, but he can't help but go through a few things when he can.

truth be told, the criticism that the group had received from those that had been helping them debut was some sort of wake-up call. that he should stop walking around in circles, and keep moving forward regardless of the hardships ahead.

because of that, minki has been ruminating a lot! mostly about the fact he's in a debut project; something he knows he can't and shouldn't mess up. not just for his own sake, but the others that will be his groupmates from the future.

in true minki fashion, he's often in his head, thinking and pondering. this time, he's trying to picture himself in the future and what it would be like—and doing that keeps him on the right path, in his own opinion. imagining a future where his dreams become a reality.

other than that though, minki takes the time off to spend it with his sister too. it's only right that he updates her on what may happen soon, and the fact that he may soon reach the stage.

he also updates his late friend, that he might reach the stage that they've been dreaming of all these years ( even though now minki has to go through it alone; he thinks that friend is watching over him somehow ).

minki assimilates to dorm life first and foremost, tries to accommodate his space with new people. it isn't too hard, he does have a younger sister.

that being said, minki doesn't really halt or stop himself when it comes to practice. if anything, he doesn't want to put a pause to the routine that he has established on himself. ever since getting personal feedback on his performance, he'd been practicing his facial expressions a lot, the minimal gestures he would do.

he tries not to slack off; he never has, really. and since they'll be having their own show soon, minki does his best to get himself used to a camera and spontaneity. it'd be bad if there's still traces of awkwardness in there!

[jindallaebe]

MIDNIGHT SNACK 조진달래 → 조민들레

although his sleeping patterns have been more consistent lately, there'll be at least one or two nights per week where jindallae simply can't rest. in the past, he'd try and force himself to—digging his limbs into his mattress in sheer desperation, while constantly fighting with his own mind; screaming at it to shut off for once. now, instead of being so stubborn, he chooses to give in; relenting by pulling himself out of bed and busying himself until he feels more tired. some nights, he kills time by doing an extra hundred push-ups, others he leaves the warmth of his home to go for a walk around the block. tonight, he's in the kitchen with his stomach roaring at him for sustenance.

he's not doing the most efficient job, but he's spent the last half an hour lazily slapping together the most monstrous gilgeori toast sandwich he's probably ever made. it's full to the brim with all the works, smashed between perfectly toasted pieces of bread, and cut diagonally in half; its filling remaining intact based on how he prepared it. jindallae admires it for a few seconds, and right when he's about to pick it up and inhale it, he looks up and sees his brother enter the kitchen; confused.

"fuck, did i wake you up?" he asks, immediately feeling bad. "m'sorry, man... i guess i didn't realize i was being that noisy." with that, he interrupts himself with a yawn, then uses one of his forearms to rub at his eyes. "want half a sandwich? i was gonna make myself some plum tea, too... i can double-up, just say the word. it's the least i can do for getting you outta bed." before mindeulle even answers him, he's ambling over to the fridge to grab his favorite plum concentrate.

swiftly, he pours up to glassfuls of their iced beverage; setting one in front of his brother at the table before joining him with his. "there—we're all set now." once he's back to where he started, he picks up his portion of food and takes a massive bite of it; cheeks overstuffed with deliciousness while he chews, gesturing his head toward his brother, non-verbally asking him if he thinks it's good.

[behaneul]

MAKING NEW MEMORIES in which haneul spends his chuseok cooking

part of him knows that he doesn't have to do this, but he wants to in case some others (like him) don't have a home to go to for chuseok. he's not too sure who out of the project green boys will be staying in seoul for chuseok, but he sets out to really cook up a whole feast for whoever is still here that night.

even if it's just him, at least he'll have good leftovers for a while, right?

he busies himself with making a few of the special chuseok foods. back at home, his mother had always had a chef come to their home to prepare the chuseok meal. or, if not, she would order from fancy restaurants ahead of time and get it delivered to their home so she could pretend that it was a homey meal for their family.

but, haneul refuses to do that.

he spends the day of grocery shopping, waking up early in the morning to do so and then locks in. he knows he can make a really good galbijjim and he also has made songpyeon before. japchae is one of his regular dishes, so he works hard to make all of these dishes from scratch and with love. that had always been something that the family dinners back at home had been missing—his mother had only cared about keeping up appearances within their family, not about family itself.

no matter how good the food tasted, it wasn't worth it for what transpired before and after. hanseul had always thought that a meal should be with family and people one cared about, and not about the amount of money spent on the food.

he even makes some pajeon and pan-fries a variety of different vegetables and meat patties dipped in egg, just wanting to make a nice spread to take over the table in the kitchen. lastly, he adds a vegetable dish and starts the rice cooker.

he takes a picture of the feast and sends a message into the group chat, telling everyone that he made dinner if they're around though he doesn't expect much. either way, he's happy he did this.

also, it all tastes really good, if he does say so himself.

[beyuji]

xmas market, 2023 - shopping + wish trees

yuji leaves her christmas shopping until late.

she doesn’t mean to. not really– training occupies most of her time. when she isn’t, she’s picking up a shift at the hostel, she’s catching as much sleep as she can. the songwriting boot camp exhausts her a bit, even if she’s having more fun than ever with it.

but it does mean she’s forced to peruse through the market during it’s busiest time, scrambling through vendor to vendor to grab her gifts. something for her mother, something for yubin, something half-assed for her brother in law and her father; yuji’s never been great at gifts, so she’s sure they’ll be fine with it. yuji doesn’t really care either way, and she’s sure they don’t either.

the gift shopping goes decent. she’s finished in half the time she expected (yuji blames it on the last minute shopping panic), and she idles now. moves from vendor to vendor with her bags hanging from her arms, eyes looking over tiredly for anything else that catches her attention.

as she’s moving, her attention is diverted by the appearance of light displays, the wish trees making their appearance. they cause yuji’s step to falter, staring at them thoughtfully. wishing always seems like a waste; hopeful thinking that means nothing without work put into it.

yuji’s done a lot of hoping the past year. waiting with baited breath and anticipation for something to change– for the better, hopefully. resigning with sr media uplifts her a bit, their words making the seeds of hope begin to bloom in her gut. but she’s tired of hoping, of wishing, waiting and praying.

maybe she’s impatient. maybe she’s too pessimistic about it. things come to those who wait, but how much do you have to wait? will hoping and willing it to happen help or just give a false sense of confidence? yuji’s eyes watch two people walk up to the trees, close their eyes and make their own wishes.

and when they walk away, they look pleased. as if the idea of hoping itself is answer enough. that wishing does something, even if it may not come true.

yuji steps up towards the wish trees, and closes her eyes.

( she can hope just one more time. )

[kagamesayu]

laois x reader

c/w . gn!reader reader, fluff wc: 375 a/n . this himbo has my heart in a tight grip reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

laois who is your beloved boyfriend and dungeon partner. your rock and your reason for adventuring.

you'd met when looking for a party to join. the moment he set his eyes on you it was like something awakened in him.

he'd done everything he could to get you on his party, and subsequently by his side.

you'd been so enamoured by him and his quirkiness that you agreed.

and the rest is history.

laois who almost always has one hand on the handle of his sword and the other in yours. his thumb writes his name into your skin, and he wishes it was there permanently.

definitely the type to have your name tattooed on him - probably on his wrist so when he fights he remembers you're with him.

laois who kisses you good morning and good night. who kisses you as a greeting and goodbye. who kisses you for...any reason really.

he just loves it - loves kissing you.

loves the soft pecks that reassure each other that you're okay, loves the long loving kisses you share when you sneak off, and he especially loves the messy, wet make-outs that he can only periodically indulge in when he knows that you, him and the party are safe.

laois who - after every encounter - looks for you and asks whether you're okay.

yes, he should care for the entire party, but he can't help the deep carnal need to make sure you are safe first.

you are special and precious to him, and though everyone revives, he refuses to see - and even let - you die.

he let it happen once and watching the life leave your eyes is something he will always see in his darkest of nightmares. the fear and agony on your face, right before you'd been impaled and taken away from him.

never again.

laois who spends almost all his free time out of dungeons with you. you're usually seen hand in hand in either hanging out in your shared rooms in inns or in libraries reading about monsters.

you have your own notebook about monsters, with personal little doodles and facts.

when laois first brought up the idea, he was worried you'd think it'd be boring. he was taken aback when you agreed with as much enthusiasm as you did.

he was even more surprised when you showed how eager you were in helping him.

he thinks he fell even more in love that day.

[queenariesofnarnia]

a drinking game and pretty names 🍻

legolas x f!reader

a/n: here's a little ficlet no one asked for. i felt like writing it because i just did an extended edition marathon of the hobbit and lord of the rings :) it was also the first movies i ever wrote fanfics for 🤭

gif not mine

wc:375

You couldn’t help but let out your laughter as you watched Legolas and Gimli participate in their drinking game. Legolas looks unfazed by the drinks and Gimli is a drink away from sleeping on the floor in the Golden Hall tonight. You were nursing the pint of ale in your hand as you stand next to Éomer.

 “Here, here. It’s the Dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women” Gimli belches. Causing you to snort taking a drink to cover it up.

“I feel something. A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it’s affecting me” Legolas says admiring his fingers. You shake your head laughing.

“What did I say? He can’t hold his liquor” Gimli’s words a bit slurred before his eyes cross and he falls to the floor. Laughter roars around the table.

“Game over” Legolas says shrugging, you join his side wishing Éomer a good night if you don’t cross paths again tonight. You link arms with the inebriated Legolas heading outside to enjoy the crisp night air and the stars.

“Did you have fun mellon?”(friend) your ask as you let go of his arm. He catches your hand before your arm drops to your side.

“I did meleth nîn”  (my love) he answered, the term of endearment throwing you off guard. You avert your eyes to the stars above instead of your entangled fingers. He gently calls to you to catch your attention. your eyes meet his piercing gaze. “You have such a pretty name, though meleth nîn suits you perfectly”

“So drinking games cause you to use endearments enril nîn?” (my prince) a smirk on your face as you question him getting over your bashfulness.

“The drinking game simply gave me the courage to use the endearment I’ve been waiting to call you for a long time” he says cupping your face with his free hand.

“For what it’s worth I think you have a pretty name as well. But I can always call you melethron”(masc.lover)  you suggest closing the gap. you could feel the crisp air dance along your face, but you focused on how his steady breathing fanned your lips. glancing from your eyes to your lips one last time he pulled you in for an overdue kiss.

end note: if anyone reads this thank you :) if not thats fine too!

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem!reader. [vol i] [vol ii]

summary: Eddie’s shenanigans continue, a heavy conversation leads to revealing factors of how Eddie and reader know eachother.

tw: no minors, mentions of drug use/ abuse, death etc. heavy heavy flirting (eddie) eventual smut

wc: 6.4k

a/n: we made it! Another week another volume to our disgusting eddie series. I’m still blown away by the likes, reblogs, and comments this series is receiving— thank you all so much I appreciate it.

s/o: @pinkrelish @sweetsweetjellybean @jo-harrington + @agentmarvel for helping me bring this fic to life! whether that’s beta reading, me bouncing ideas from to you or just talking me through the pacing- I love you all, this fic would be dog shit without you 🤍♥️💋

/

/

You wake to the buzzing of your alarm, your hand reaching through the dark across your night stand, slamming down hard on the smooth cold snooze button, but it doesn’t stop.

You hit it again.

Nothing.

The beeps get louder. Your eyelids open a sliver to reveal the numbers 3:42 in red on your alarm clock.

Your alarm usually doesn’t go off until 6, and it’s Sunday so it was never set.

Fuck.

You fly out of bed, disregarding the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, and open the door. A light haze of smoke fills the hallway, white and dreamy, almost pretty like smoke on the water after it rains.

The smoke detector in the kitchen is alarming, letting you know that the potential of a fire is a great possibility with its ominous beeping. You spring into action, throwing open the kitchen window above the sink.

Where is it coming from?

At first you think it’s from the oven, maybe Eddie left a frozen pizza in too long. The older oven was fussy anyway, burning things one day and the next taking forever to heat up to 375° to make a batch of cookies. But the oven was cold, the smoke seemed to be coming from the living room, a quick glance shows you exactly what was going on.

The couch was on fire.

-

The hum of the vacuum and the clinking swirl of jagged edges of chips and popcorn kernels sucking up through the cylinders into the bag invade the small living room. It took Eddie almost an hour to find where you kept the cleaning supplies. Turns out the smaller door across from the basement was a closet, housed with everything you’d need to clean a home.

Each item was stacked neatly, brooms and a floppy white mop hung on hooks, the vacuum tucked into the corner. The top shelf had bleach, and a green can labeled ‘comet’ that looked like it could be mistaken for Parmesan cheese. Judging by the bottle with blue liquid and a window on it, called Windex, Eddie figured that probably wasn’t for spills on counters. He settled for a bottle of 409 and a roll of paper towels. Grabbing the vacuum with him.

After vacuuming the living room and wiping up the spills in the kitchen, he sits down. A lit joint between his lips, contemplating on what the actual fuck happened tonight. He couldn’t believe your bitchy attitude or the way your lip trembled after he called you out.

You weren’t the girl he used to know. You had changed, grown into a bitter woman, hating everyone and everything.

He falls into a dreamless sleep. Waking later to stumble into the bathroom to take a poorly aimed piss in the dark and falling face first into his mattress.

-

You grab the first thing you can think of to extinguish the flames ablaze on the couch. Where the hell is Eddie? What the fuck happened!? Filling a popcorn bowl with water that doubled as a puke bucket when you were sick with the flu back in March, you run back to the couch throwing the water on the flames. For good measure you refill the bucket and douse the couch again— putting the flames out, leaving a soaked charred couch that once was a staple in the Wheeler basement for the better half of a decade.

To say you are enraged would be the understatement of the year, possibly the century. You didn’t have much to your name— not anymore, he had made sure of that. But this!? You open all the windows, letting the dewy air of an early summer morning seep through the house, a slight breeze moving the thin curtains.

You weren’t a great physics student but you are almost certain that a couch wouldn’t suddenly combust into flames no matter how old it is. A red plastic lighter on the coffee table confirmed your suspicions.

You don’t waste time trying to wake him up by yelling, you fill the bowl of water immediately and charge into his room. It was as if you put the fire out but the flames were still burning inside of you, you were fucking irate with Eddie. Hate bubbling inside of you as you stomped into his room, water sloshing all over the carpet and onto your socked feet.

He’s laying on his stomach, a loud snore rippling through his body, the last bit of calm before the ice cold water hits his bare back. Soaking his bed in return.

A loud screeching gasp leaves his dry mouth, cottonmouth having his tongue feel like sandpaper on a sidewalk.

He turns over to face you, annoyed and confused at what the hell was going on.

“Y’know,” he says, standing abruptly from his mattress and shivering when the fan oscillates onto his freezing back, “there are more humane ways to wake someone,” he takes a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the smoke and the burnt fibers of the couch, “smells like you burnt breakfast so how may I help you at this ungodly hour?”

“You son of a bitch,” you seethe, “I swear to everything holy and your satan worshiping ass that I’m going to kill you!”

Eddie doesn’t bat an eye, “ooh baby, are we role playing right now? Shit I’m not prepared, gimme a minute.” He stuffs his hand into the front of his boxers making a jerking motion.

“Jesus Christ! I didn’t come in here to fuck you! Have you seen the living room?!”

“So hostile in the morning—“ he says rubbing his eyes, letting a yawn escape his slack mouth, “why what the fuck are you accusing me of now? I cleaned up my mess so if we’re not fuckin’ I’m going back to b— “ you drag him by the arm to the living room. Unable to speak. Unable to breathe properly through the lingering smoke.

His eyes land on the charred mass of the couch. Panic settled on his face for a brief moment before he discarded it for humor. “Damn Tooty, if you wanted a new couch you could have just asked,” he says, letting out a yawn, and stretching his arms out.

He cringes at the way his full name falls from your lips. The spinning rage of fury throwing yourself into a hissy fit.

“I can’t fucking believe you! How goddamn high were you to not realize the couch was on fire before you passed out?”

“Oh fucking relax, it was an accident!”

“Accident? Spilling milk on the counter is an accident. Knocking over the shampoo bottles in the shower is an accident. This.” You say seconds away from full on losing your mind, “is arson, destruction of personal property, a credible offen—“

“Credible offense? Didn’t know you joined the police force, officer Tooty..”

“Eddie!”

“… you probably have those swat grade handcuffs, the ones that won’t break when your wrists are bound to my bedpost, shit I’m hard just thinking about it.”

It takes everything in you not to look down, not to see the way he’s swelled up in his boxer briefs. Not to see the stretch of the fabric or the outline of his length.

You let out a frustrated groan, dragging your hands down your face. “God you are so fucking infuriating! You really moved in here and just thought you could do whatever the fuck you wanted because you’re Eddie the freak Munson huh? Twenty-six and still pretending that rules and doing shit in a normal way don’t apply to you.”

You think back to how he was in high school, ranting and raving on the cafeteria tables or giving a presentation about how Dungeons and Dragons was in fact not a cult when the assignment was supposed to be on the Holocaust.

He did whatever the fuck he wanted, when he wanted, and how he wanted to do it. He didn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself. Never did, never would.

“I fucking hate you,” you spit, “you’re a filthy bastard and I hope you rot in hell.”

He’s heard it all before, so it’s not a surprise when your words turn sour, trying to break him down. But he won’t stand for it.

“Oh baby,” he tuts, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, “you think you’re the only person to ever hate me?”

He crosses his arms and leans forward, inching towards your face, “if you wanna compete with the big dogs, you better get in line. Heard they sell tickets at the high school for the ‘we hate Eddie Munson fan club’.”

He chuckles at the idea of the whole town hating him, small minded inbred losers, clutching to their cross necklaces whenever he walked past them.

“Probably more fans there than Corroded Coffin has right?” You provoke, eyes raised and a smirk twisting your lips.

“That attitude of yours…” his words are lost when he looks at your lips, he shakes his head and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes scan over your body. Tiny little tank top with one of the straps hanging off your shoulder. Your baby blue pajama pants low on your hips, no panty line suggesting you’re commando under them, “Fuck.” He breathes mostly to himself.

“Listen, I’ll replace the couch, but you seriously need to get a fucking grip and relax, you’re gonna have a brain aneurism if you keep this shit up.”

Only Eddie could turn a disaster of almost starting your house on fire to a joke about you being crazy and him getting horny in return. It had to be a talent to be so aloof from reality. So unphased by shit happening around him. Just placing a bandaid on things hoping they would work out.

But for you, it never came that easy.

-

You decide the only reasonable thing to do was to move the couch to the garage and try to rid the house of the lingering smoke smell. Thankfully the carpet and the coffee table were fine, but the couch was obviously a total loss. Eddie was surprisingly strong, maneuvering the couch almost by himself all the way to the garage, with your help of opening the doors. The way his muscles worked in his back as he lifted the couch and pulled it through the threshold made your stomach flutter. And you were pissed at the thought of it.

“Get some sleep,” Eddie ordered, after you got back into the house, yawning loudly and rubbing your eyes, “we can figure this shit out later.”

Normally you would have argued with him about not telling you what to do but you were exhausted. You climb back into your bed, and fall asleep quick. Dreaming of your entire house on fire and Eddie standing outside, pissing on the flames.

-

“What about this one?” Eddie asks, laying on a large brown sofa, sinking into the cushions like he’s submerged into quicksand.

He woke up around 9 AM, barging into your room, blaring Judas Priest and singing Love Bites at the top of his lungs. Scaring the absolute shit out of you and having you reach for the nailed bat Steve had given you after Nancy had moved out.

“Let’s roll butthole,” Eddie laughed as he sat on your bed, munching on a piece of toast, “ooh, and maybe skip the bra like you did this morning, that was so fucking hot.”

Jesus Christ.

“Get out,” you hiss, covering your chest with your blanket.

Eddie stands up and jumps on your bed pouting, “seriously you’re so boring, let them titties out and come jump with me.”

“I swear you get more immature by the minute. Now get the fuck out before you break my bed.”

“You wish I’d break your bed, oh my god!” He stops jumping immediately, “Tooty! Am I the first guy to be in here?”

You get up immediately, wrapping your throw blanket around you and grabbing Eddie by his foot trying like hell to yank him off your bed.

“Ow, stop you’re hurting me,” he jokes in a mocking, deadpan voice.

You’re slapping him anywhere you can reach him, throwing your pillows at his head, anything to get the perv out from your sheets. He’s laughing rolling around on your bed, moaning your name loudly.

“Eddie Munson I swear, I’ll slash the tires on that shit box van of yours out there if you don’t get out of my room!”

“Oooh, felony charges? Goddamn you’re gonna make daddy cum.”

You grab your clothes from the closet and retreat to the bathroom. Huffing and stomping the whole way, slamming your door so hard the windows in your room rattle.

-

You’ve been looking around the Big Boy’s furniture mart for at least three hours. Eddie insisted on trying every single couch they had. And you weren’t talking about just laying on them or testing their firmness.

“Hey, can you lay down and I’ll get on top so I can see how it feels? I need to make sure I can reach the right angles if ya catch my drift,” he says with a shit eating grin and a wink. “Or better yet, I’ll sit and you get on top, gotta make sure the ladies knees are comfy too ya know?”

You swat at his arms, “you’re such a fucking pig, Munson.”

“With a fat—“ interrupted by the sales clerk asking if everything was okay, you smile awkwardly and sit down next to Eddie, testing the enormous brown couch, “wallet.” He finishes, a smile on his lips as you roll your eyes.

“This one is good, c’mon sit down and try it out.” He purrs, wiggling his eyebrows.

You’re standing beside him clutching your purse, his long legs are bent at the knee and spread out wide. Arms on the back of the couch, claiming his space, spread like a king.

“No,” you complain, “If you like it, get it, I’m tired and I just want to go home.”

“Why? The Virgin Mary got a big date or something?” he says, with a mean laugh.

He’s such an asshole. If you weren’t playing his little games he’d turn into such a fucker.

“Jealous?” you say, invading his space, voice dipped low, tracing circles on his denim knees.

His breath hitches in his chest at your light touch, but you don’t stop there. Sauntering up to the sales counter you work your magic.

With a little flirting and the perfect placement of your arm under your heaving chest while leaning over the counter, chewing on your pen and running it down your neck and into the slit of the one too many unbuttoned buttons on your blouse with the dorky sales manager sporting a receding comb over, you get free same day delivery, even on a Sunday.

Impressed, and shocked Eddie asks, “Now how did you manage that one Tooty?” he asks his head dipped by your ear as you walk towards the door, “thought you were the head nun at Saint No Fun.”

You lick your lips, laying the charm on thick, “Think you’re the only one who can flirt and make someone uncomfortable?” You ask, looking up at him and batting your lashes.

Wrong.

That was the wrong thing to say to him. And you walked right into it.

A smug smile spreads against his lips, accompanied with lowered eyebrows and a deep groan to his voice, intruding on your personal space, “so you admit that I make you uncomfortable?”

Your cheeks heat and you slither away from him, buttoning your shirt higher and mumbling about how disgusting he is while walking fast out of the store and making your way to Eddie’s van, your sandals clicking on the asphalt.

Walking through the door to outside feeling the sun beat down on his curly mess of hair, he can’t help but laugh at you storming away.

“Don’t run from your feelings, sweetheart,” Eddie calls from the parking lot, “I’m a give— oh relax bitch I’m not talking to you!” He yells to a woman ushering her two children inside the store as she glares back at him, frightened when he places the infamous devil horns on his head and flicks his sinful tongue out.

He climbs back into the van, laughing maniacally and blaring Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam. He looks over and sees you shrunken down in the seats, covering your head with your arms trying to make yourself as small as possible. Avoiding being seen with him with all your might.

“At some point in time princess, you’re gonna have to give up this facade that you’re some high and mighty broad.”

“I don’t think that—“ you say sitting up right and forcing the heat from your cheeks, “I just don’t want to be seen with you in public anymore than I have too, plus I really think seeing you humping the furniture burned a hole in my brain.”

“It was quite a sight wasn’t it, wait until you experience it first hand— you’ll have to go to church begging for forgiveness.” he finished with a whisper.

You roll your eyes, disgusted with his constant perverted mind spewing sexual comments.

“Do you ever, just— I don’t know, have a normal conversation that isn’t based around your penis and all the things you’d fuck if given the opportunity?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, turning down his music, “When did you get so boring? I swore you were never like this when I knew you. Eyeball’s little sister. Thee Tooty. Meanest girl in her grade. Stealing cigarettes from the gas station. Sneaking out at night to catch a ride with the freak to the nearest party, you were cool back then. Now you’ve joined the fucking convent in virgin town capital of Lame-ville, USA.”

You had forgotten about Kev’s nickname, Eyeball. Eddie had made it up after he had gotten a fishing hook through his eyelid back in their sophomore year. Eddie was at your house almost all the time, him and your brother were as thick as thieves, and sometimes they were just that. He always invited you along, telling Kev it was alright. After he had graduated in ‘85 and Eddie stayed behind, Eddie became your outlet, bringing you and his hellfire idiots, your own classmates, to parties because you didn’t have a car. Swearing to Reefer Rick, that you little goons were cool. ‘Specially Tooty’ he’d say, announcing that you were Eyeball’s sister with a toothy grin.

Seems like such a long time ago that you were all just stupid kids, living for the weekend and a shared bottle of strawberry hill Boones Farm on the way to a party, now half of you were in serious relationships, or college. But you were still here in Hawkins, cutting the hair of the rich while you could barely balance your mortgage and utilities.

People like you and Eddie never got out of small towns. Live, breathe, die.

The end.

No happy endings.

“I’m not a nun, you inconsiderate prick,” you yell at him, “I just don’t think fart jokes, or shitting with the door open and belching contests are funny.”

Eddie pulls his eyebrows together annoyance splattered on his face, “yeah, I’m pretty inconsiderate, just dropped hundreds of dollars to get princess Tooty a new couch, how fucking dare I?”

“You’re the one that burned the other one down!” You holler back at him, losing any shred of self-control you have left, “ I wouldn’t have asked you to do that and you’re the one who volunteered to buy it in the first place!”

“Well, you didn’t really give me a choice standing there with those sad fucking eyes acting like I just fucked your sister and shot your parents in the face.” He sneers back, nostrils flared, driving like a bat out of hell through Hawkins.

You’re pouting, crossing your arms and huffing loudly as he continues.

“I swear to God there’s not a single fucking thing that I can do right for you Tooty,” he snaps, knuckles tight against the steering wheel. “It doesn’t matter what it is what I will, or won’t do you just have it in your head that I’m the worst fucking person in the world.”

You sit there stunned, face crumbled into anger as you stew pissed off beyond belief at his bullshit remarks. He pulls into the driveway, stomping on the brakes and having you lurch forward as he throws the van in park.

He turns to face you. A ringed finger pointing in your face as he gets closer.

“Like I said earlier, sweetheart, you want to hate me? Get in fuckin’ line, this whole goddamn town hates me and I don’t give a fat rat’s ass what anybody thinks of me, especially a stuck up brat like you.”

You’re both breathing heavy, the tension between you both thicker than oatmeal. You can feel his breath on your face, your cheeks are heated and his are tinged pink. His eyes dip down to your lips for a split second before he shakes his head. He jumps out slamming the door hard with a loud thud, stomping his way through the garage.

-

You mull over your emotions, here you were again, but this time you got the best of him.

Eddie: 1

Tooty: 1

In all the years of knowing Eddie, you’ve never seen him that pissed off. Sure he got worked up about stupid society norms in school but this was different. He was pissed, yelling in your face in the van.

You were never afraid of him, the whole town might be but you had no reason to be. Not from a guy with split ends and in serious need of a deep conditioner. He was just as stubborn as you were. Refusing to bend.

-

The couch was delivered in record time, your tits really putting the delivery boys to the test when they said you were their only delivery for the day, marked mandatory.

When Eddie arrived from the doorway of his bedroom, arms above his head hanging onto the frame, a cigarette hung between his lips, he was still mad but truly astonished at their arrival only twenty minutes after you had gotten home.

He flops on the couch as soon as they leave, the delivery idiots still drooling over you working up the courage to ask for your number until Eddie made a sadistic comment about getting the cat out of the freezer for the ritual sacrifice had them running back out to the truck, whispering Hail Mary’s and making the sign of the cross as they ran.

“Fuck,” he exhales, kicking off his boots and putting his stinky socks on one arm, his head on the other unzipping his jeans, and slotting a ringed hand down the front of them, Al Bundy style, “can’t wait to break this thing in, need’ta christen the whole house yet too.”

Oh for fucks sake.

“Were you this nasty while you lived with your uncle?”

He closes his eyes as he answers you, snuggling his head and hips into the cushions, a leg thrown up on the back. “He works nights, but my neighbors knew that when the trailer was rockin’, don’t come knockin’.”

You scoff, “I just have a hard time believing that anyone would willingly want to fuck you.”

“Well believe it baby, they don’t just call me ‘the freak’ because I’m into metal and have long hair,” he says, opening his eyes for your reaction as he grabs his dick through his jeans at the base and wiggles the length around.

Your stomach burns as you walk away, half disgusted at him for being so crude, and more disgusted with yourself for looking.

-

The only way you can combat the lingering heat of turmoil in your stomach is by keeping your hands and your mind busy. You change your clothes into some cotton pajama shorts, the old ratty Garfield slippers you’ve had since the 8th grade, and a baggy shirt with the Marlboro logo on the breast pocket and printed fully on the back. You start with baking a loaf of banana bread, the same recipe Karen Wheeler passed down to Nancy, and Nancy passed down to you.

You begin to whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. A sense of calm takes over your body as you remember the days of having Nancy as a roommate. A vast difference to the hellion who’s snoring on the couch right now. Your mind wanders, questioning why the tension between the two of you in the van could have been cut with a knife.

You despised him, the thought of him making your stomach churn like curdled milk. He was skating on thin ice and if you were stronger, you’d have kicked his ass out by now. But Eddie was right about a few things. After Kev left for college it was just you at home, but Eddie stayed around. Watching out for you at parties, threatening to kick anyone’s ass who got too close to you.

You mash the bananas and set them aside, using the handheld mixer you had been gifted to beat together the butter and brown sugar. The light pales of yellow swirling with the chestnut granules of the brown sugar.

You remembered how he was dating Chrissy during his senior year. How Chrissy, yourself, Eddie and Chad would go bowling on Sundays after brunch at the Cunningham’s or how sometimes Chrissy would drive the three of you to go to Eddie’s shows at the hideout, sweet talking her way to the owner so you could all support him. How messed up he had been after she broke up with him. To this day you don't know the reason. You wondered if he knew what happened between you and Chad.

You add the dry ingredients to the wet ones. Adding the eggs one at a time, the soft plump yolks slipping free from the shells and landing gently on the forming mixture.

So many things had gone unsaid. Different aspects of life taking you both in opposite directions but now suddenly back again, but under very diverse circumstances.

The banana bread mixture is scraped into a loaf pan, and tossed into the oven, the timer set to sixty minutes.

You had to admit that having Eddie around gave you a small inkling of comfort. Almost as if you weren’t alone. Something you hadn’t felt in years.

You really must be crazy. Eddie Munson giving you comfort? What kind of dream land were you living in. Clearly the banana bread hasn’t given you any sort of calm, better make muffins next.

-

Later that night you’re lining pasta noodles in a baking dish, layering them with ground beef sautéed with an onion and pasta sauce, and ricotta, mozzarella and Parmesan cheese. The small kitchen smelling delicious, and the counters full of chocolate chip muffins and the banana bread you had made.

Turns out there’s a lot you can get done in the 5 hours Eddie has been passed out on the couch. Turtle waxing the bathroom floors, scrubbing the baseboards in the living room, reorganizing the fridge and wiping everything down.

He’s still sprawled out on the new couch, his long hair wrapped around his face, soft snores whirling through his nose.

Another hour later and supper is done, you’re standing at the stove cutting short horizontal lines through the lasagna opposite of the way the noodles are laid, when Eddie comes up behind you, warm crumbles of muffin between his lips as he whispers, “shit Tooty, did’ya take home-ec? This is delicious.” You jump almost ten feet high, shrieking and cutting a horrible diagonal line through the lasagna.

“.. I failed ya know.”

“High school?” You answer after catching your breath, “Eddie, everyone in the Tri state area knows that.”

“Nah,” he mumbles through another bite, more crumbs falling from his mouth, “well I mean yeah, but home-ec. That’s why I didn’t graduate on time.”

You soon around with an incredulous look on your face, “how the fuck do you fail home-ec not once, but twice?”

He leans his long frame against the counter, hip jutting up against it as he crosses his legs at his ankles, you note that his pants are still undone.

“Well chef,” Eddie starts, licking his fingers clean from the ooey chocolate that melted onto them, “I kept burning everything. I couldn’t even get the eggs to boil right. I burnt the sleeve of Jason Carver’s letterman jacket while trying to make crème brûlée,” He says with a laugh. “That might have been on purpose, after he stiffed me for over 3 oz and two full bags of pre rolls.”

You chuckle, “not a loss there, that douche probably deserved it.”

Jason Carver would remain in Hawkins to run his dad’s business. Last time you had seen him he was at the salon, flirting with you while you trimmed his hair. Still a douche.

“Ah, he was just mad I stole his girlfriend,” he says with a little sigh, referring to Chrissy, “High school, what a blast!”

“All six years?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, your teeth biting down hard into your lower lip to hide your laugh.

Pushing himself off the counter and stealing another muffin he leaves the kitchen with a grin and yells over his shoulder, “piss off.”

-

Eddie’s on his third plate of “flat noodle pasta thing” or to anyone living on the planet for more than three years would call it, lasagna, and your homemade garlic bread chewed up between his teeth.

“Christ,” he exaggerates with a sigh, “I feel like this is my last meal on death row or some shit.” He smacks his lips and licks his fingers like a primate. Moaning with each swipe of his tongue like a porn star with a huge bush in the 70’s.

“Did you just compliment me on something other than my body or insinuating that you want to fuck me?” You say with a false shock, “I’m honored.”

“Yup, write it down in your little diary, ‘Eddie Munson said something genuine to me, made me feel pretty, maybe I will stop being mean and let him see my titties xoxo’.”

“…and we’re back to your regularly scheduled programming.” You announce in a monotone voice, pushing your lasagna around with your fork and taking a bite of the garlic bread.

Eddie turns his head and looks over at you confused on how this nice little night— not arguing, for once, eating the best thing he’s had in his mouth bedsides the pussy that was in it last weekend, could turn into you silently stewing, mulling something over that he had zero idea on how to understand.

“So— what ever happened to Eyeball anyway? Should I go ahead and assume he’s buried in a shallow grave somewhere?” Eddie asks, taking another mouthful of lasagna, “seriously, I haven’t seen or heard from him since he graduated and left this shithole town.”

You take a deep breath and let out a sigh, you couldn’t hide this from him, not when he’s here in your house, on the couch he just bought since he burned down the other one.

If you were going to tell him, there was no better time than right now. You take a sip from your Fresca and set your plate down on the coffee table.

“Kev went to the east coast. Full academic scholarship to John Hopkins.” You say curling your knees up to your chin, facing Eddie.

“Yeah, I think he mentioned that— I bet your parents were proud,” Eddie says, eyebrows raised, fingers hanging loosely over his knees, the last remnants of the garlic bread in one hand.

“Of course they were, he’s the golden boy, Mr. Perfect. He could do no wrong in their eyes.”

You weren’t just being a jaded little sister, it was the truth. Your parents favored him over you. Once it was let on that he was smarter than most kids his age, and a certain level of genius— that was it for you, you were casted aside like a wet paper towel, tossed to the heaping flow of garbage. Their whole life revolved around him.

“So what happened?” Eddie pressed, setting his plate down and twisting the rings around his fingers.

“Well, he went to college in August of ‘85 and at first was excelling in all of his classes, as if he were to ever do anything else. If you ask my parents, what happened next was out of character for him, and he was coerced into it, the wrong place at the wrong time kind of a deal, but you know how he was. He had a wild side to him.”

Kev was wild indeed. He was the one who convinced Eddie to borrow Wayne’s truck at thirteen and take it driving through Hawkins on a joyride to the gas station that led to all of the mailboxes in Forest Hills to be backed over and almost a gas pump. A smirk forms on Eddie’s face as you continue.

“I always thought it was his way of escaping— trying to be normal. Anyway— he made friends with some guys who were kinda like the Hellfire guys at home. Ya know nerds, who need haircuts.” A small laugh escapes from your lips.

“Easy, now.” Eddie jokes, shaking his mane, “This takes time and patience, ain’t built for the weak.”

You roll your eyes and keep going, “one of them was involved with dealing but it wasn’t just joints and half ounces like you did in high school. This was crack, and heroin.”

Rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palms, dreading this more than Eddie could ever know. “He started using—heavily. One thing led to another and he was eventually kicked out of school, turns out you actually have to show up to class and get good grades to keep an academic scholarship.”

“My parents tried to get him to move home, go to rehab, but he refused. He moved into a house with some other “friends” if you would even call them that.” You take another shaky breath, voice wobbly as you continue, “w-we aren’t exactly sure what happened— all we know is that he was driving down a one way, going double over the legal speed limit and he struck a woman— in broad daylight, killing her instantly.”

Pain is evident in your face as Eddie stares into your eyes, leaning forward on the couch, the venom of his words from last night and earlier this afternoon twisting like a knife in his chest. “Holy fuck.”

“He had been tripping out on whatever it was he was snorting, or smoking—I have no idea, for days, according to him, and he doesn’t remember anything. The woman was from a very well off family in Maryland— so they went for murder instead of vehicular manslaughter— and won. There were two other people in the car with him… they were both killed on impact. He’s currently known as inmate #90045, serving a life sentence and a sling of other charges in Roxbury Correctional in Hagerstown.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide at the thought of Kev in an orange jumpsuit, face behind bars. The fingers he was spinning his rings with stops, mouth agape.

You pinch your eyes shut and throw your head back, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “My parents sold the house the following year and moved out there to be closer to the golden son, still to this day refusing he did anything wrong, blaming it all on anyone but him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, shocked, “I can’t fuckin— wow.”

“Yeah,” you say, bringing your head forward, dipping into your chest. Sniffling quietly and rubbing your nose.

Eddie is dumbfounded by your admission. He thought for sure that maybe Kev was married and had kids so your parents went to help them out to be supportive grandparents. He would have never guessed that he was in prison doing hard time with a heroin addiction. And he certainly can’t believe that they left you here like discarded mail.

“But you stayed in Hawkins? By yourself, this whole time?” he says in disbelief. Outer corners of his eyes turning downward as his face frowns.

He feels like shit, he had been here the whole time in Hawkins and he didn’t have a clue that you were alone.

Shaking your head you answer slowly, shame on your lips. “The Wheeler’s ended up taking me in.”

“Tooty,” Eddie rubs his hand across his face, stubble catching on calluses as he thinks about the times he saw you at school. “Fuck man, why didn’t you say anything? Jesus, why didn’t any of them mention it?”

“I told them that if they told anyone I’d shave their heads,” you say proudly. A sense of pride present across your face, as you hold your head high.

This explains a lot, why you were bitter and downright miserable. He couldn’t believe this shit, how your family just left you, discarding you like you weren’t their only daughter. You were dealt a shitty hand, and all you had left to protect yourself was you. Eddie knew all too well how that felt.

His eyes are full of concern, wet with tears as he realizes how lonely you must have been.

“By the way,” you say, stretching your leg out and nudging him with the toe of your slipper, “that head shaving thing, goes for you too Munson.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. ” Eddie said, throwing his hands up in innocence. “I wouldn’t risk losing these curls over that, the ladies love this.”

-

Later that night Eddie laid in bed. Still completely blown away by the fate of his old friend. Not only that but what happened to you as well. When his dad went to prison, he had Wayne but you? You didn’t have anyone. Moving in with the Wheeler’s like you were a charity case, an orphan, with Ted Wheeler being the not bald Daddy Warbucks. He didn’t sleep worth a shit that night. His mind constantly running over the millions of conversations you had up until his graduation— not once did you let on that you weren’t okay.

🤍

🤍

🤍

🤍

🤍

HOPE YOU ENJOYED 💋 SEE YOU IN VOL IV

vol iv

[writing-until-i-drop]

You're Married? | Drabble wc: 375

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x wife!reader (no use of y/n)

After the bird strike incident, Natasha knows who's coming to check on her but the rest of the squad is in for a surprise.

Warnings! Brief mention of past experience with homophobia and brief mention of minor injuries. Wrote this on my phone so formatting might be weird.

Requested by: 🗡️

Read the request here.

Natasha knew it was coming from the moment she ejected. She knew they would call her emergency contact and she knew you would drop what you were doing to rush to her side. She also knew you'd be mad as hell.

"Natasha Trace," The gaggle of big, strong, pilots surrounding her bed parted like the Red Sea at your angry tone. "I am too young to be a widow."

You stomped past her squad without a glance to them, focused solely on your wife, who besides a few bandages and the IV in her arm looked perfectly fine.

"You're married?" Rooster and Hangman exclaimed together, looking between Phoenix and her wife in surprise. You didn't notice, grabbing Natasha by the chin, twisting her head to get a better look at her injuries.

"Baby girl, I'm fine. Just a few bumps and scrapes,"

"Is Bob okay?" You looked around, spotting the backseater lying in the bed on the other half of the room, asleep. Your anger dissipated, always quick to start and quick to leave. "Oh, Bob."

"He's okay, just tired," Maverick assured you but you crossed the room to inspect him as well. Natasha smiled softly, watching you smooth the man's hair off his forehead.

"You're married?" Hangman asked quietly, pointing at you as if you were an apparition. "To her?"

"For two years this June," Natasha beamed proudly, pulling our her dig tags and showing the delicate silver band that hung there. "She is the love of my life."

"Damn right," You kissed Bob's forehead before rejoining your wife, kissing her on the cheek. Natasha was enjoying the look of shock on everyone's faces and by the embarrassed giggled you smothered by burying your face in Natasha's neck, she knew you were too.

"Why the secret?" Fanboy asked, eyebrow quirked. Natasha shrugged,

"Had a bad experience with a squad once when they found out I was gay."

"That won't be a problem here," Maverick said in a tone that left no room for argument. "Come on, guys, let's leave Phoenix to get lectured my the missus in private."

"No, no, you can stay," Natasha pleaded when your glare returned. "Please?"

"Not a chance," Rooster laughed. "Maybe if I had been invited to the wedding." The door wasn't even shut for five seconds before you launched into a worried tirade but Natasha took it all, holding your hand, promising that when she got cleared by the doctors, she'd show you just how fine she was.

[daydreamingyuta]

https://www.tumblr.com/daydreamingyuta/748740564117323776

THIS IS SAUR CUTE WHAT

🥹❤️

It’s insane how well you capture mark’s personality through your writings that it feels so real yk?😵‍💫

If it’s possible could you write another version of this butttt make it spidey!mark where the reader tries on his costume?? (don’t blame me pls. 200 and his rem acc is making me feel things HAHA)

Spidey Suit | Mark Lee

summary: fluff, drabble, asking spiderman!mark if you can try on his spidey suit <3 wc: 375 a/n: omg thank youuuu!! that's literally such a sweet compliment omg! thank you for reading and liking my mark drabble 🫶 also I loved writing this and I'm sorry that it took so long but I hope you enjoy it! <3 <3

“Can I… try it on?” You ask, unsure of how he’s gonna respond. Mark isn’t the type to not want you wearing his clothes, actually most of the time he’s the one suggesting it, but you’ve never tried to wear his spidey suit before. 

You watch as his face turns into that smile of his that you love so much, revealing his cute cheekbones. “You wanna wear my suit?” You nod your head, hopeful for him to say yes and before you know it, he’s rummaging through one of his draws and pulls it out. “Ok, but I get to take pictures of you in it.”

🕸️🕷️🕸️🕷️

You thought that it would be super hard to squeeze into, but it was surprisingly easy. It was tight, without feeling tight at all. Actually, it felt like the most comfortable thing you’ve literally ever worn before. 

“It’s nice right?” You hear Mark ask. You had asked him to turn around while you got changed but he must have noticed that you managed to get it on when you stopped moving around so much. (spidey senses). 

“I cannot believe you made this yourself, It’s genuinely incredible.” You say, checking yourself out in the mirror. You can’t see him but you know he’s blushing by your comment. “Can I um turn around now?”

“Oh, yeah.” You say, now facing him. 

You watch as his eyes focus on you and his head moves back slightly, something he always does when he’s surprised. “Wait, you actually look so cute.”

“What do you mean actually? You weren't expecting me to look good in it?” You say playfully, crossing your arms.

“No, no '' he says, his voice cracking. “I just meant like, when I wear it it’s super intimidating and cool looking. But somehow you just look adorable.” He says, walking towards you. 

You give him the sternest look you could muster. “I’m intimidating too.” 

“Right right.” He says as he cups your cheeks in his hand, pulling you in to kiss you, “I definitely wouldn’t want you as my enemy.”

“Exactly.” You kiss him back until Mark starts to laugh. “What?”

“Nothing, it just feels funny. Like I’m kissing myself.” You let out a laugh too because of course he would say that.

[girlfromflor]

tobio kageyama x gn!reader + hair pulling

tw: contains hair pulling (obviously) but that's pretty much it, not proofread sorry | wc: 375

tobio is a sucker for so many things you do. like the way you always gently trace a finger to his features, softly bopping his nose before giving him a breathtaking kiss. how you use your soft voice, puppy eyes and pouting lips to get anything you want from him. he thinks you’re so irresistible already, so how could he not accept whatever your request is while you ask so nicely.

but there’s one thing that gets him deeply needy for you. is the way you scratch the back of his neck with such light touches. running your fingers through his hair slowly, which never fails to make goosebumps raise all over his skin, head leaning to your hand. he often expects you to tug at it, wondering if you do all of this to provoke him from time to time, because that one time you caught him by surprise keeps getting the best of him. 

you were doing what you always did, fingers tangled in his dark locks while you two cuddled on the couch. but then he said something, some snarky remark that was obviously a joke, that made you roll your eyes and tug his hair ever so slightly, saying “stop being mean to me,” in such an affected, whiny tone with a pout forming in your lips. he couldn’t stop himself from teasing you again, his voice muffled since his face was buried in your neck as he added “why are you so sensitive?”

but then you knocked the wind out of his lungs, not thinking twice before you harshly pulled at his hair a second time. “cut the shit, tobio,” you said, only for him to quite literally drool over you. mouth agape letting out a not so quiet sound in a mix of pleasure and surprise. with his dick throbbing in his pants and cheeks growing hot, he pressed his face harder in your neck, his hand reaching your waist to pull you closer. “don’t do that to me, baby,” he said, his voice pleading and you could swear you heard him moan quietly as he kissed your collarbone. you just mocked him, smiling ironically as you said “looks like you’re just as sensitive, huh?”

[seokminded]

To date a dancer ♪ ₊˚

Hoshi ✗ gn!reader

꒰☆꒱ Genre: sticky sweet fluff.

꒰☆꒱ Warning: None? not proofread, R calls him 'Youngie', might fuel delusions.

꒰☆꒱ Wc: 375

His hand was gentle on the arch of your back and yours held his shoulder. Both your free hands mirrored to meet and clasp together. Feet in a harmonious sync like a scripted movie scene. Your eyes flickered to his for a brief moment, causing a smile to grace your features as his face mimicked your bashful shyness.

Slow dancing away lazy afternoons in the kitchen after cooking a meal together was more or less a habit for the two of you. But somehow you could never get used to the feeling of him holding you so tenderly while he swayed you gracefully like a petal in the wind. After all these months, you still couldn't control the heat that crept to your face.

As a few more languid beats went by, you relaxed in his arms. Mind repeating the sequence he had taught you. You recalled the very first time he taught you to dance without tripping on your feet. His hands guided your movements as he spilled praises every time you followed his instructions. Both of your giggles filled the room when he finally succeeded in the challenge to make you dance. You had come a long way, and so had this relationship.

Snapping back to the present, you decide to close the gap between your bodies and place your head on his chest feeling his warmth engulf you. Gently turning and looping over the hardwood floor, he rested his chin on your head while closing his eyes savoring this moment with you.

"I love you Y/n. A little more than I should."

He whispered against your satin locks.

"Me too, I love you too youngie"

You whisper back and wrap both your arms around his neck, while he draws circles on your waist. Letting the music fold around you like a gentle mid-summer drizzle.

This is what it feels like to date a dancer.

Random mid-day thoughts. This originally was supposed to be for Minghao but soft Hoshi just fits.

Send in requests cause I'm a people pleaser :)

© 2023 SEOKMINDED. Do not copy, translate or repost any of my works or i'll cry.

[boydepartment]

Charity Work- Lee Heeseung x Fem! Reader

a/n: just a little drabble based off personal experience <33 things i need to remind myself daily except heeseung tells it to the reader <33

warnings- none wc- 375 MASTERLIST

“Are you done?”

You looked up from the middle of your rant, astonished at Heeseung’s sudden question.

“I- No but I can stop talking…” You mumbled suddenly insecure of yourself, you shifted slightly at the desk in your room and watched as Heeseung got up from your bed to your desk. He leaned down to your level.

“All you do is complain about incompetent guys.”

“Well, I give them a shot, I don’t know they’re incompetent until I speak to them…” You fiddled with your pens as the proximity was starting to get to you.

Heeseung scoffed over you before looking away, when you knew his eyes were off you, your eyes looked over his features. His jawline prominent and part of his face was shadowed due to the overhanging light.

“I thought you were okay listening to me rant?”

Heeseung looked back down at you, his hair falling over his eyes slightly, “I’m always okay with listening to you. I’m just tired of hearing about how much these losers fail to even impress you.”

You blinked at his words, slowly processing, how could they impress you when your best friend was standing over you looking at you like this.

“What else did this guy say? Oh, I bet he was self-deprecating right? And then he wanted you to raise his ego?” Heeseung continued to speak, and you kept listening now, nodding slightly. Once again, he smirked knowingly, his tongue poking his cheek. He looked away from you again, clearly pretending to be in disbelief.

“And then you, the hottest girl that has given him attention says, ‘noo you’re handsome!’ even though you’re doing charity work? Isn't that right pretty girl?” Heeseung looked back over to you in the middle of speaking and put his hand under your chin to keep your eyes on him.

“Yes…” You mumbled, Heeseung clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Stop doing charity work.” At that he stood up straight and walked to your door, “you’re still going to the friend meetup on Friday, right?”

You swallowed hard, “Um… Yes…”

“Okay! See you then, pretty girl! Remember no charity work!” At that he left your room like it was the most normal thing in the world, leaving you shocked and tracing the part of your face he touched.

[magicalbuttertarts]

D2 with Darius Martin x Female Reader??

AEW Masterlist

Smut Prompt List

Cumplay (18+)

Darius Martin x f/Reader

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: Smut under the cut. Unprotected sex. Cum eating. Oral (m receiving) . Throat fucking. Use of dildo

Requested by @hooks-martin .Hope you like it.

WC: 375

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

D2: Cumplay

I looked down at her as my hand quickly jerked my cock over her face.

She is looking up at me as she bit her lip. Her hands rubbing her upper body and squeezing her gorgeous tits.

"Here it comes." I groaned as I grabbed the top of her head as I groaned loudly, forcing my eyes to stay open as I watched her close her eyes as I came all over her face.

She was smiling as I painted her face with my cum.

I tapped her face with my cum, milking the last of my cum out of me.

She wrapped her lips around the tip of my softening cock to get the last of it, and then ran her tongue up and down my cock, making my cock twitch.

♥︎

"Cum in me please Darius. Please cum in me." She prettily begged me as she wrapped her legs around my waist, holding my lower body flushed against hers as I called out her name as I came inside her fluttering pussy as she came.

I let out a breath as she unwrapped her legs from me and I pulled out, watching as my cum started to leaked out of her.

I grabbed the discarded dildo and pushed it inside her pussy, moving it back and forth watching as our combined juices leaked out around it.

"Don't stop Dar." She cried out as her back arched off the bed.

♥︎

Her head is hanging off the side of the bed as I fuckef her mouth and throat. My hand was over her throat, groaned loudly as I can feel the outline of my cock in her throat each and every time I thrust into her mouth.

I didn't warn her as the first rope of my cum shot from my cock. I held my hips against her face, as I came.

I could feel her swallowing every last drop.

"Fuck, that felt good." I groaned as I pulled out of her mouth.

She quickly turned around, laying on her stomach as she took my cock back in her mouth.

"Need more baby?" I asked her.

"Mmhmm." I am sure she said as her mouth is full of my cock.

"Don't worry baby. I got you."

◆

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @madhatterbri @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @tahiri-veyla @crowleysqueenofhell

[addicted-to-slashers]

Insatiable Hunger

POV: First Person

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Fem!fae!reader

⚠️Content Warning ⚠️: Mentions of gore, blood, and the consumption of body organs, read at your own risk!

WC: 375

For Anon, who asked: any of the slashers with a fae girl who basically eats people's livers/lungs/hearts to sustain herself, usually dines on the slashers' victims like "oh free food, cool"

The now deceased victim of Jason hadn’t seen you coming. They really thought they would be able to put an end to his rampage. As if he could be killed so easily. Well, you couldn’t be killed either.

“Thank you for the meal!~” You thanked after you had eaten their livers and lungs first, always saving the heart for last. It was the best part! How could you not savor it? You were the most unique kind of fae, you had to eat organs to sustain yourself.

And you had entered a symbiotic bond of sorts with Jason, the hockey mask serial killer, you would eat the heart, lungs and livers of whatever victim he had to slay and he would get rid of their bodies afterward. You never knew what he did with them.

Perhaps he threw them into a large body of water like the ocean?

Dissolved them in acid?

Left them in a public place for someone else to find?

Oh well. That wasn’t your problem to worry about. Your hunger was satiated and that was all that mattered to you. You licked the blood off of your fingers after consuming the last of the heart, careful not to get any of it on your dress. Looking towards Jason, you gave him a grin, which you knew if it had been anyone else, they would have been set running in the opposite direction, but Jason didn’t seem to mind.

“See you around!~” Before you could vanish, you felt a weight on your shoulder. “What’s wrong, big guy? Lonely? Want me to stay?” You lifted your gaze from Jason’s hand on your shoulder to his eyes, hidden behind his hockey mask. His expression was unreadable but at your question, he nodded. He wanted you to stay.

No one really wanted you around, particularly after they learned how you needed to sustain yourself, not even your fellow fae wanted you around.

But Jason wanted you around.

“Alright, I’ll stay. Let’s get rid of this body together.”

A serial killer and a fae. Who would have thought?

[cakewritez]

LIGHTENING MCQUEEN HUMAN AU.

reader has a new job interview at they have to catch, theyre on a time crunch and look extra good in business attire and McQueen cannot seem to keep his hands to himself. Convincing the reader with a simple "I am speed.." as they have a quickie in the car.

DAWG. DAWG. . . I ACTUALLY CANNOT.

"𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐘. ."

CW: Suggestive?, I KNOW WHO ASKED ME THIS. And no smut for you bc ya I said so ♡ but I do enjoy exposing you !! ( ´-ω-)

AN: MAN how low has my life stooped to. / crack fic taken seriously / McQueen talks in yellow and red / PLS GUYS ITS A JOKE I SWEAR if u know me NO YOU DONT.

WC: 375

You had a managed to succefully get a job interview after getting laid off, I'd had been months until you got a call back. Maybe just bad luck? Perhaps, that doesn't matter now. You have 30 minutes to get ready, look professional, and ace your interview.

The phone rings as you tie up your hair to do some makeup, it was McQueen. [I ACTUALLY CANNOT.] You picked it up to hear your ecstatic boyfriend, he had picked up some lunch for you when you got back for said interview. He wanted to give you a little treat!!

“Hey baby! Got ya something, sweet lil thing like you deserves something to come home to after your big interview!”

“Awww, thank you sweetie! I can't wait to see you.” You responded with a sweet tone.

“Mmh, such a sweet little thing. Aah! Shit, I'll see you soon okay? I gotta focus on the road.”

“Okay, see you soon!” You hung up with a little extra spring in your step. Finishing your makeup in the mirror, you stood in front of it looking at your outfit. The seams hugged your curves quite tightly, the striped fabric covered everything quite nicely however it was still a little revealing and skin tight.

You sighed and ran your hands down the fabric, trying to hype yourself up. As soon as that was finished, the doorbell rang.

“Hey sweeticous! Are you. . ready?” He looked you up and down, smirking and gave a high whistle with his fingers.

“Shit, you look stunning. Any chance we could skip the interview? Maybe, have a little fun with this. .?” He asked suggestively while walking closer to you, it was hard keeping your composure and he ran his hands down your hips and whispered words into your ear.

“Cmon, we still have time sweetheart. I'll be quick.”

He peppered kisses down your jaw, squeezing your hips as his hot breath fans across your neck.

“What makes you think we'll have time?”

You asked him, as one your arms were placed across his shoulders. One of your hands was running though the back of his hair, while the other was holding his shoulder.

"𝐀𝐰𝐰, 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐞? 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝.”

IM ACTUALLY SO SORRY WHOEVER READS THIS 💔 sigh.. the things I do for my friends