#( t: rising upside down )

[lgcyushin]

rising upside down

▶▶ LOADING … MENTOR MEETING WITH @lgcsori

yushin admits, while they are busy with some of agito’s schedules right now, he’s never too busy to make some time for trainees with potential, especially those that are busy competing right now. he was one of the members of v&a that had managed to debut without ever participating in future dreams, however, he could only imagine what the members were going through. while he didn’t have the hands-on experience of the competition, he had a few experiences under his belt that lent to him debuting.

having reviewed the future dreams material up until now, and with sori’s performances, and with the focus on charisma and dancing, yushin could sense that it could be a trying journey as there were many strong dancers. and sori offered a very interesting assortment of skills, and being multi-lingual, he hopes he’ll be able to express everything to sori where they could have a mutual understanding.

he awaits in one of the common areas of the places in the future dreams locations, not passing up the opportunity to get to visit the area where everyone was housed at. the idol is accustomed to having cameras on him, and he’s positive that sori and he will get along. waiting until his mentee arrived, when he finally spots her, the older waves immediately and stands up to greet her. “hi sori, it’s nice to finally meet you. i hope i’ll be helpful to you and answer any questions that you have. i will be completely honest, i’ve never been through future dreams, but i have been here long enough to have seen many go through various debuting processes including my own experiences. i’m the main rapper of agito, and while i know you guys don’t seem to be focusing on rap now, i originally did come from a singing background so if you need help with that, or with anything else, i am here for you.”  yes, yushin knows that sori’s probably in a different mind space from some of the other contestants right now, after having been moved from the dreamers to challengers, and that could not be easy at all. 

[artcalledtattoo]

Look to end over end to read blue print so small and upside right side up those birds too The fingers gave waves in pen strokes he was left handed so words were sung along All the while, while a couple punched through oiled screen those thumbs carried along from a keyboard/typewriter from no. 2 pencil into a mechanical lead required gauge at his favorite .03 but .05 -07 always found that note was ink so I will as I can fashion duplicate master a copy allow yourself to understand the marker will run away faster than ink in all you tanked in heads this world aquarium some filters needed and gravel Even thee aquatic plant life #Hastag & and fill in best 4 self * a-holes • think ^ lead Sing a song (and point to up) Have you felt And TUMBLR I write smaller for the bigger picture Chip (Words} Lead Pic Hummingbird Moths ContortionDownBelow Hashtag Think thoughts over ammunition add piercing needles I’ve oily blended sideways aeiou hashtag and tha bum would aeiou words lead T G of new leaders from back of there think everyone p-tsd state fair weaving and (the whip) all the dunce H&M I human Del Si Ri Rude Boy4Life where is the teargas asshole it’s all a daft in foot notes Allow Olivia hashtag asshole playgames let loosed and charged ass hole it’s a play list ohh, few don’t know, now, have you! Late Night Early Morning from a nostril the nose and my eye Intellect On the piece of paper Written in ink Look to end over end to read blue so small and upside down those birds too The Robin’s nest next too Rockin’ Guitars The Robins nest next to Rocking Guitars Bamboo Shoots would say Shake it (off) The hand writes really for nah tin The nothing don’t really ever care oh ever The anything’s get heavier I want precision Therefore lighter Ever sucked sugar cane It’s pocketed and capsuled Wordsbymm|mmybsdroW MMybsDroW|WorDsbyMM Right and left Alone a loose WordsbyMM MM why bull shit Dr(Doctor) ohh World Those words by mm Let’s make a trip to gain again Mm artcalled blogs It’s just an easy more for you from me I would say back in my past, I’ll add here as I’m living and breathing well can I sum none counted Look to end over end to read blue print so small and upside right side up those birds too

[occamstfs]

Triple Shot Theft

Trying to nab himself a sweet treat, Liam finds himself growing into the behemoth whose order he stole.

Shorter story! Petty thief to meathead bodybuilder, hope you enjoy this slightly more succinct story! -Occam

The coffee was in his sights. Liam just needs to wait for a moment when the mobile order counter was unattended andddd- There. He’s already out the door and headed down the street with enough caffeine to get him through his morning. I mean he’s not proud of his little act of delinquency, but it’s not like anyone’s suffering right? The coffee shop has unlimited resources, they'll make whatever poor schmuck whose drink he just nabbed a new one. 

Speaking of, now that he’s home free it’s well time for the first sip. Liam briefly checks the name on the cup, Elijah. “Well Eli, cheers to you. Bottoms up-” Raising the steaming togo cup to his lips Liam prepares for the ritual first burning sip. Not checking the label as he wants to be surprised by whatever hides underneath the lid. As soon as the drink touches his tongue it is revealed to be quite the unpleasant one as he rears back from the scalding drink and grimaces.

Totally unrelated from the boiling heat, the taste was the single most bitter thing he’s ever experienced before in his life. Sticking his burned tongue out before whispering a complaint he checks the label, “Jesus Christ dude!? What the fuck did your order?” Taking no time to analyze his criticism of a man who is by all intents his victim, his eyes grow wide as he sees the drink is a Black Dead Eye, that is drip coffee with three shots. 

He feels his heart flutter as he thinks about the amount of caffeine he now holds in his hand and plans how he is going to ration it out so he doesn’t completely overload himself. His mind briefly tries to picture the type of man to order this, though before a clear thought could be produced he shrugs and takes another sip. Could’ve at least had some syrup in there guy. Still taking a strained sip, an idea unfamiliar fills his mind, ‘psh as if I’m gonna drink some empty calories to start my day.’ 

Eliam’s eye twitches as he scrunches his face, presumably from the bitterness and grunts, “ugh, I hate-” Feeling a frog in his throat he clears it a few times in short succession. “Man, this drink sucks.” His brow immediately furrows as he hears his voice almost sounds deeper to his ears? Eliam eyes the drink for half a second before shrugging and assuming he must be coming down with a cold. Something within his subconscious questions how that will affect his time at work? No, not work, something else. Something close though, his arm rises in a right angle and he tilts his head as the thin limb tries to flex, immediately confused as to why he just did that, after a pause he reconsiders. Why does his bicep look so puny?

Uncomfortable with his bicep barely manipulating the sleeve of his shirt he considers, “Maybe I should start hitting up the gym?” Eliam scratches at his chest and frowns as he feels truly no muscle definition hiding under his T-shirt. His head buzzes with foreign emotion and instinct as the general apathy he has for his body and appearance is rapidly being replaced with disdain nearing disgust. He grunts and keels over as static, burning pins and needles, begins to overwhelm his senses. In the process he nearly spills his coffee which hits him with far more anxiety than losing a drink you didn't even pay for should.

His mouth is cold and dry as he stares at his nearly lost midnight dark drink and, even greater than the bizarre numbness and strange sensations contorting his body, he feels an urge, a need, to drink. Lips puckering as they strain to get closer to the cup as he brings it to his mouth, his legs give out and he falls back against a shop window. Passersby sneer at him as doggedly sits on the sidewalk and raises the cup completely upside down and lets it pour into his wanting mouth. His throat struggles to keep up as something besides himself, something with a will stronger than his own, forces him to down the burning drink in one go.

Mission accomplished, he gasps for air and wipes the few drops of coffee that landed outside of his mouth off his face before sucking them off his stained finger. When a businessman looks down at him with an eyebrow raised Eliamh feels a burning in his chest at the challenge. His jaw clenches and every muscle burns with the desire to show the pen pusher what’s up, dude doesn’t even know what the grind is! Eliamh’s eye twitches and he clenches at his gut as for the first time in his life it seems to be straining his intentionally baggy shirt.

The pettiest thief struggles to stand, using the wall for support as his legs suddenly struggle to carry his body. All the while making embarrassing grunts. He begins burping loudly as his stomach tries to get him to reject the drink in the only way it can. He feels more bloated with every labored breath and heavy movement, his midriff now exposes his thin treasure trail as his arms begin to fill the sleeves of his wrinkled button up. In between burps and groans he just gets out in his now decidedly duller voice, “Whuh- what was in that cup-” 

Usually happy to hide, Eliamh feels a rising need to challenge every man in sight, realizing something is beginning to overwrite his usual instincts, his rational ideas. As his pants begin to strain, thighs and ass bulging larger, Eliamh realizes that no matter his new desire to post up he needs to wait out whatever, uh, food poisoning this is. Stumbling into the storefront he’s thus far used as a stabilizer he groans out to the clerk, hand covering his mouth as he tries to hold back a loud burp, “Burmgh- I, ugh. Need yer restroom, dude.” Mouth curling into a frown at the clearly unwell man the cashier just points to the room at the back and Eliamh quickly stumbles through the door and locks it behind him.

Panting, Eliamh falls to the floor. Sweating through his clothes he leaves a trail on the door as he slides against it. Unconcerned with the filth of being on a bathroom floor his mind screams as his body begins to expand in every direction. Fabric tears as his bloated gut redistributes itself across his whole form. His arms that only recently bulged with any weight at all suddenly rip entirely through his shirt. Veiny biceps tear through, bursting larger than his thighs before his forearms race to match. His hands grow rough with callouses as he tears at his clothes as they begin to suffocate him.

Elijam’s shoulders pecs are initially inhibited by the clothes barely hanging in there. As soon as they give way and his torso is freed to the air do they begin their transformation outright. Drool pouring from his mouth as his mind flitters between the horror of becoming something anathema to himself while at the same time rapidly recognizing the arms as the powerful weapons he has honed for years now. Initially absent, the muscle on his chest pointedly makes up for the years spent abandoned. Pumping larger as his lungs expands and his chest widens to match shoulders that thicken to be shoulderpads, his pecs begin to become unseemly. Weighty enough that his current legs could never support them, his pecs surge to a size where the idea that he could ever be anything but a diligent bodybuilder is foolish.

His rougher hands trail down his sweaty, impossibly large chest and find that there are now swaths of his body where his bulging biceps and dense pecs collide that he simply can no longer touch. Moving down to feel abs as they push themselves out of his lower torso like cobblestones, his grunts and burps turn to deep moans as he bathes in the pleasure of becoming Elijah. Finally reaching low enough to free his package as it begins to fill his constricting pants, Elijah palms his balls as they begin to fill his body with hormones that make his boorish mindset make far more sense. 

Outside in the store the clerk contemplates calling the authorities as the deep moans echoing from the bathroom begin to scare off customers. Back in the restroom the bodybuilders thighs expand to truly the size of tree trunks as they lengthen along the cold tile. Immediately do they tear his pants as it becomes clear that he’ll never take a step without his massive legs rubbing against each other. It’s a wonder his package has any room at all to be as large as it is given the real estate taken up by his massive lower body. In no time at all the sweaty behemoth finds himself filling the small room with his musk which only heightens his heady delight.

His eyes cross as the few shreds of Liam that remained ingrained in his psyche through it all begin to give up the ghost. His balls pulse as the paltry aspects drain from his mind and every inch of him fully shifts to that of Elijah. Memories of countless hours spent underneath the bench press bar, tracking protein consumption, comparing his form with other massive titans. At the very same moment do loads begin to fly. Shooting high enough to grace the ceiling, his spunk stains the wall behind him like splatters on a canvas. His impossible changes took less than a minute but in his ecstasy he feels each and every one of Elijah’s memories soar to fill his mind.

Stumbling to his thick soled feet Elijah scratches his head as he tries to think how he’ll leave this store with nothing to cover his titanic form. The cogs of his mind turn slow enough that it seems like he can barely produce a thought at all. He grabs toilet paper to start to clean the mess made, but only ends up smearing it against the walls. Suddenly he laughs a dull guffaw as he remembers he lives nearby, just needs to run through the store and he’s home free. He’s sure the customers won’t mind seeing him in the buff, he thinks as he smirks at his peaking bicep. 

His cock stirs again as he wonders when he got this pump in. Knowing he doesn’t have time for another session right now he covers his impressive package with his torn clothes and sprints through the lobby, the clerk doesn’t have time to finish his name before he’s exited the storefront and begun to sprint homewards. Pushing through any man who doesn’t quite move out of the way in time, Elijah hits himself in the head as he realizes he needs to apologize to his bro for stealing his coffee this morning. Just as soon does the thought fade with another slow witted guffaw. He’s sure Elijah won’t mind, he’d probably do the same even. After all, they’ve got a lot in common.

[kombuuuu]

HEYY!!! Can you maybe write a fic or small drabble where fem!reader wants hobie to hang upside down so they can ‘spider man kiss’.

(also i luv the way you write hobie :P)

Spider Kisses

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

“What’re you— oh!”

small thingyyyyy, added a little twist tho C:

—

“Hobie?” Your voice rang throughout the empty alleyway behind your apartment, light disappearing behind the building wall your lover was currently — decorating.

“Wh— Oh! [Name], babe, come look a’ this.”

You partner turned to you, currently hanging from a suspended pole connecting one building to another.

Webs wrapped around his ankles to keep him hanging upside-down. Left hand holding a green can of spray paint, and right holding a paint ridden cloth.

His shirt was riding up (down?) due to gravity, the small peak of skin covered in different paint streaks that matched the tones the wall was now bearing.

“what’re you doing up there?”

He shook the van again, spraying a little detail onto the mural, then wiping a line through the fresh paint to reveal the colour underneath.

“‘M paintin’, love.”

He turned to you, synthetic eyes wide and emoted.

“C’mere, come try.”

He shook the cloth in a ‘come hither’ motion, paint flecks landing on his shirt. You approached him happily, getting close to his mask-clad face.

“Don’ get too close t’ the fumes now, babe.” You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, turning back towards the art to get your first real look at it.

A low whistle came from behind you, “Nice view.”

“Shut it, bug.”

“Arachnid.”

“Whatever.”

You felt Hobie grab his web, releasing his ankles and dropping down by one arm. His feet hurting the ground with a small scuff.

Taking the first good look at his creation, you noticed how you were the centre of it. A dazzling smile with your features painted in a light you’d never known. He’d made you feel so beautiful.

The colours behind you complimented the shades of your hair and strokes of abstract making your features evermore admirable.

“Jesus, Hobie — this is gorgeous.”

“All you, babe.”

He crowded up behind you, letting his slender hands carter’s the skin along your waist and stomach. His muffled voice dropped low to your ear. “Like this, doll.” His right hand travelled up your arm, sliding over yours and disconnecting to wipe at the fresh paint.

His left hand stayed put against your abdomen, squeezing unconsciously. He handed you the cloth, watching your fingers wrap around the fabric and bringing his hand back to your upper arm, rubbing along your skin in a soothing matter.

“Now drag it along there, yeah? Right where it’s still wet.”

You snorted at the innuendo. Hobie scoffing at your childish thoughts and softly pinching your skin.

“Oh, grow up.”

You refocused, dragging your hand along the shade of purple and blue. Streaking them together and revealing the pink underneath.

“Good, you’re a natural at this point.”

You laughed lightly, turning your head towards his.

“It was one stroke, Hobes.”

He winked, a devilish smirk rising his smile lines. “All it takes wit’ you, ain’t it?”

“Oh my god, you’re crude.”

“Nah baby, ‘m honest ‘s all.”

You brought your hand back towards you looking up at the painting again. "Finishing touches."

You gave him a quick, curious "hmm?", before you felt the cloth leave your hands too fast for you to realise. The "thwip" of his webs alerting you of his methods — right as the sound registered in your head, he had shot another back onto the aforementioned pipe, and reached to swipe at the paint around your hair, melting it into you and making you stand out stark against the cohesive colours. "Looks good, dun' it babe?"

"Uhuh."

He spared you a glance, smiling under his mask at the distracted sound of your voice, when he caught you watching him, and not his painting — he could excuse it.

A thought had breached your head, one that had been popping up ever since you had gone to dimension 1806 with him.

—

"Hobie, I'm not a spider person! I can't leave!"

"But I made you a watch?" "

Yes— thank you, I love it. But also that's not the point."

"But the watch.."

"Fuck, fine. Whatever. Don't use that tone on me again."

"Say it's for science."

"Fuck science."

—

That day you had found something.. intriguing. A comic. With a rather interesting cover design. Spiderman — not yours — plastered on the front, upside down, with his mask folded up and kissing Mary Jane. It was probably the most romantic thing you'd ever seen. And now you had the chance.

"Baby."

Hobie stopped wiping the excess paint, giving you his full attention. "Yeah doll, what's 'e matter?"

"Can you— do the thing.. you were doing before?"

He gave you a quizzical look, eyes in his mask squinting. "Painting? I'm almost done, sweethear'. Now I just got'a wipe way the—,"

"No.. no, the uhh.. Thing."

"Babe, ya' gon' have ta' be a bit more specific."

"The— upside down thing."

He snorted. Still hanging from his left hand. "Wh— yeah? I can do it, but—,"

"Don't question my decisions, Hobes."

"God damn, sweethear', speak t' me like 'at more often."

You laughed just as he did, glee falling from your lips as you shifted closer to him. He twisted his body to raise his legs above himself, wrapping the webs around his ankles once more.

"Now what—"

You brought your hands up to his spandex covered cheeks, tracing the lines of his cheekbones under the soft skin of your fingers. Tracing your hands higher, you toyed with the lip of his mask. Exposing the skin of his neck and watching his Adams apple bob out of nerve. "Can I?"

"Whatever you want, Luv."

You rolled the mask just past his nose, hooking it over his bridge, surprising him. He opened his mouth to question why you hadn't taken the whole thing off, before your lips stopped him.

He melted into you, your hands stroking over his cheeks and chin.

It was awkward trying to find your position at first, but you both quickly adapted, his hands finding the belt loops of your jeans and tugging you closer to him. You smiled into the kiss and he followed, laughing about how this was the motive to your request.

Your lips disconnected and he grinned like a fool.

"Tha's why?"

"Oh, shut. It was romantic."

He chuckled again, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Never said otherwise, pretty thing."

—

phone still broken , just like my heart hastag KIILL ME BOW

that was sarcasm but YIPEEEE HOBIEEEE!!!!!

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 26, 27 & 28 prompts : blood, scary movies & mask

rated: T | cw: minor injury | tags: Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, pre relationship, post s4, Eddie Munson takes care of Steve Harrington, elusions to sub space

🩸🩸🩸🩸

Steve is trying to watch the movie, he really is, even if horror was never really his thing. Eddie’s eyes went so bright when he picked it out at family video, distracting Steve. Then he complimented Steve on the pumpkin decorations he’d made for the windows which distracted him further. And finally he handed it over at the counter in a way that made their fingers brush; essentially shutting down Steve’s brain completely. So then, by the time Eddie asked him if he’d seen it, all steve could manage was a no and a nod at the date set to watch it together.

Which somehow ended up with Eddie on his couch and their pinkies entwined.

Steve might have the image of it seared on his retinas, he can’t stop looking at them.

The place where they’re touching. Where he’s touching Eddie. Touching a boy, on his parents couch.

Freddy Krueger jumps out. Steve’s father’s face flashes in his minds eye. His heat rate skyrockets.

Steve jumps up. ‘I’m just gonna go to the bathroom, you I’m, do you want more popcorn?’ He asks.

Eddie jumps too, staring at Steve with wide eyes. ‘Uh, no I’m good. I’ll pause it yeah?’ He asks, already sliding off the couch and shuffling over to the set.

Steve nods and walks out, does use the bathroom even though he didn’t know he needed too. Checks the back door is locked, it is.

It’s started to rain; Eddie needs to drive safe he thinks as he slices an apple for himself.

But his hands are still damp and the blade slips. Nicks his thumb.

He’s bleeding. Red oozing out over his palm.

‘Shit, shit!’ He vision starts to tunnel, something smells weird, something mouldy. He’s bleeding and mouldy and and.

‘Steve.’ Eddie’s there, cradling his hand. ‘Sit for me yeah?’ Steve’s in front of the island stool. He sits. He swallows but his mouth is dry.

‘Wound care was a vital learning stage in my clumsy and overconfident life cycle as a child. Scraped my knee more than I ate Kraft cheese, and grilled cheese is my shit.’ Eddie says, holding a kitchen towel against the wound. ‘Bandaids?’ He asks.

‘Bathroom.’ Steve rasps, replacing his own hand over the towel as Eddie instructs.

At some point Eddie comes back, sticking a plaster over the cut and Steve feels like he’s floated off somewhere else entirely.

‘Woah.’ He says shakily; Eddie prodding around the covered wound in a way that makes everything go fizzy, he focuses on his breathing; on not throwing up.

He comes too laying on the couch, his head in Eddie’s lap. He thinks about sitting up for a moment, but the scratch of Eddie’s nails in his hair is just too good.

His mouth feels slow and awkward but manages to mumble. ‘This’s embarrassing, you saw me bite into a bat and now, ugh.’ He laughs weakly.

‘Steve I would give my single remaining nipple to never see you put on whatever mask you had to in the upside down.’ Eddie’s voice rumbled from above Steve’s closed eyes.

‘Hm.’

‘I mean it. Just relax okay?’ Eddie’s other hand strokes over his cheek. Steve feels like his whole body’s in a warm bath.

His jaw cracks as he yawns sleepily, his mind a dark expanse, thoughts float near the surface but don’t quite breach; the ebb of Eddie’s fingers sending them back beneath.

One slips past though, syrupy slow. ‘Mmm don’t wan, don’t want you to see me as different. As like, without the, the whatever. M’Indiana jones. M’supoosed to be like the hero, or, or the side kick you know? Robin to my Robin. Not, not this.’

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, as Steve’s floats. ‘There’s no mask right now?’ He asks gently.

Steve shakes his head, makes a little nu uh sound.

Eddie’s fingers don’t stop moving. ‘Each year the great pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch that he thinks is the most sincere.’ Floats out from the TV, the movie is different, Steve just now realises.

‘Stevie, you’re the prettiest you’ve ever been.’ Eddie whispers.

Sometime after that, sleep makes the world go black.

🩸🩸🩸🩸

Tag list (lmk to add / remove you) : @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair @wheneverfeasible

[neesieiumz]

catharsis || ──────── s. aizawa

day five — SOMNOPHILIA / VOICE KINK / DADDY KINK

『 synopsis 』 after a long patrol, your husband comes with an ache only you can sate, only to find you deep in sleep

『 warnings 』 — 18+. sm*t. minors do not interact. husband!aizawa. pro-hero!reader. p*orn with very little plot. that's why it's shorter than my normal fics. established relationship. she is a natural disasters hero. and he has his normal job. somnophilia. voice kink. daddy kink. he is very much in love with you. like borderline obsessed with you. and vice-versa as well. female reader. black-coded reader but anyone can read. he calls you a slut but you enjoy it. sweet aftercare. was this self indulgent? i plead the fifth, how bout that?

『 writers notes 』 honestly feel like i overdid with the daddy kink but here we are! hope you enjoy it and you won't get a new ktober fic until next week tuesday! check the masterlist!

『 word count 』 3.0k

previous fic in ktober | masterlist | next fic in ktober

The night had fallen upon your home before you had known it, the twinkling stars gazing down at you, the full moon’s brightness fully mocking your somnolence. You could no longer stay up for him, no matter how much you tried. You had waited for long before sleep was beginning to overtake your body, and you knew this was another night you’d go without being able to see your husband. 

Your husband was Eraserhead to the world, but at home, he was Shouta to you. Your Shouta. The two of you were heroes, after all, that was how the two of you met. You knew the long nights that came with the job, especially with him being a teacher as well. 

Dressed in a thin two-piece set, in a pale baby blue, you lay on your bed, covered in your warm sheets, with nothing but the sounds of your automated fan blowing cool air into your room, combatting the heated summer night outside. With school out, and your husband only getting a reduced check from his main source of income, he had no choice but to join up in nightly patrols, his main specialty when it comes to hero work. 

The two of you found each other while working patrols late at night, you being a new transfer from a faraway city on the outskirts of Japan, where natural disasters were then likely to occur. 

“Eraserhead, what kind of name is that?” Your smile was wide, contagious even. 

The two of you stood in an alleyway, with him hanging upside down from it, his eyes obscured by the bulky yellow goggles he constantly wore.

“Trust me, I was definitely not the one to make it.” His voice was deep and grave, it slightly echoed through the alley. 

“That means whoever made the name must have been pretty special huh?”

It was silent for a moment, and for a moment, you thought you hit a nerve, anxiety rising within you. 

“Yeah, I guess you can say they were.”

You gleaned up at him, seeing some semblance of a smile on his face. This caused your own smile to widen slightly, standing up straight. 

Your marriage was a private one, one with family and friends only, a short, quiet, and intimate event. The two of you only had a week off for your honeymoon, during the time of which students were out for school to not mess with his schedule. The two of you are extremely busy, with his job as a hero course teacher and of course your own as a rescue and natural disasters hero. The two of you barely had time for each other, easily taking what you could with each other. You knew what came with dating and eventually marrying another hero, especially with someone like your Shouta. 

You lay across the bed, sighing as you relaxed into the comfort of the comforters, onto the softness of the mattress. Closing your eyes, hoping to bring a new day, hopefully with your husband’s arms comfortably snug around your waist. 

— — — —

You heard a squeak first. 

Your eyes barely cracked open, still heavy with sleep, as the squeaking sound got louder and longer for a moment and then stopped altogether. You didn’t move, your heart racing and beating drums within your chest as the sound of muffled footsteps got closer and closer to your bed. You could hear ruffling, like clothes were being moved before the familiar fresh scent of mahogany and lavender, your body relaxing as you did so. You opened your eyes a little bit further, being able to see the clock on your bedside table, seeing the number 2:34 glowing from the digital clock. This was a first, you never woke up when he came home from patrols, you always found yourself being wrapped up in his arms when you woke up in the morning. You tried to find the confines of sleep, hoping to easily slip into it, knowing you’ll wake up in your husband’s arms once more. 

Creaakkk…

His footsteps got closer and closer, his scent slowly gaining intensity as something within went off, like chilling tingles crawling up your spine. You could feel his eyes staring holes into you, possibly scanning your entire form wrapped up in your blankets. A familiar tingling sensation began to erupt and spread through you. It had been months since the last time he touched you, the two of you being completely swamped with work. Suddenly, the bedframe creaked, as you felt the mattress underneath you slightly dip. He was so close to you, his knee grazing up against your back, the blanket being the only thing that kept the two of you lightly touching. Droplets of water, possibly from his shower that he took when you were still deep in sleep, dripped down onto you, feeling the cool, wet spots from your blanket. You kept yourself as still as possible, sleep still dancing in your eyes. And then, all of a sudden, he crouched down, the bed creaking along as he did.

It took all your self-control not to gasp as you felt his erection pressing up against you. Even with the blanket, you could still feel it. You held back the slight gasp out a slight moan as he pushed his hip in between your bottom. He let out a hefty groan, his head falling right beside your own, his lips right next to your ear as he did. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, feeling yourself beginning to drip down your thighs and stain your thin shorts. All of your self-control was slipping piece by piece, your body aching and wanting for him. Your breathing became shaky, you know he could hear it, and yet he continued his actions. You could feel his lips slowly press up kisses along your cheek and jawline. His nose nestled itself in between your ear and your hairline that peeked from the night-time scarf you wore, before taking a deep breath in, taking your freshly washed scent, your body wash, as well as your nighttime hair products. 

“You smell so good,” his voice wasn't strained, as if he was holding back as well.

“I missed you so much,” he spoke again, the bed creaking again as he moved, his hands beginning to move down, thumbing along the hemline of your shorts.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here as much, snowflake,” he mumbled in your ear, his hand now officially slipping down into your shorts. 

His fingers slipped in between your legs, two of his fingers easily spreading your lips apart, cool air hitting your clit, causing your body to tremble ever so slightly. Your mouth is slightly agape, drool slowly dripping out of your mouth onto your pillow. His fingers easily spilled into the mess in between your legs, pressing up against your clit. Carefully, he massaged circles into you, every movement slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to wake you. He probably didn’t wake you up. You had just gotten home from aiding a beach town devastated by a hurricane, pulling people out from rubble, and creating emergency service tents. 

“I know you just got back, but I…” he trailed off on his words as his fingers slipped further down, sliding in between your labia. 

“I can’t hold myself back, fuck.”

Your husband sounded so pretty, his voice straining every syllable as his hips ground more and more into you. By now, your shorts were a mess, and your underwear soaked with your juices. No longer able to hold yourself back, you softly pushed your hips back against his fingers, and hard-on. He most definitely felt your movements, letting out a massive groan as his dick twitched underneath his boxers. 

“Naughty girl, such a slut even in your sleep…” his chuckle echoed against your bedroom walls, as his fingers dipped in even further, one of them pressing into your hole. 

“Everytime I have to stay away from you, whether it be my job, or your own job, I can feel myself descending into madness–” his words suddenly cut off with a guttural groan, his hips suddenly giving off a sharp thrust.

“I am obsessed with you, you know that right?”

Tears dripped down your eyes, staining your pillows as his words enchanted you, sending great shocks of ecstasy through you. You could feel yourself trembling, only aching for him more and more. His own boxers were sticky with pre-cum, you could feel it oozing onto your satin shorts, slowly mixing in with your own soaked juices. His hand slowly pulled themselves away from your cunt, the sudden loss of pleasure causing your emotions to deflate before feeling that very same hand pulling at the hem of your shorts. You kept as still as possible as his large hands pulled your shorts down around your ankles, revealing your wet pussy. 

“Agh, fuck,” is all he could say as he suddenly sat up for a moment. 

You could hear shuffling in the background, most likely him taking off his boxers, hearing some kind of fabric being thrown in the air and landing on the floor. You felt his hands back on you, before feeling the tip of cock press up against your cunt, slipping and sliding in between your lips, gathering some of your juices. With a final swipe, before you knew it, you felt him press the tip at your pussy, your body trembling as he began to push it. 

“Baby, baby fuck–”

He pushed himself deeper into you, your eyes squeezed shut, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Missed you, missed you so fucking much,”

You had never heard him ramble like that, his usually deep gravelly voice seeped in desperation. His hands gripped at the meat of your thigh, holding your place as he rutted his hips into you. Your lips parted, and the entire area underneath them was drenched with sweat. Your hands tightly squeeze the comforter. The heat was overtaking you, a violent intensity grappling at you. Your thoughts that once ran wild soon became filled with one thought, Shouta. Everything about him was different, the way his voice hit your ears, each syllable easily ripping a new reaction out of you. It was only a matter of time before you lost control before he knew you were awake, feeling everything he was doing to you. 

“My wife, my pretty wife,” he groaned, his hands moving up and about.

“How could I fucking stay away from you?”

With his strength, he moved you about with ease. You no longer lay at your side, but instead, your knees dug into the mattress, your stomach lying against the bed. He pressed his hand against your back, your back arching up against him. He never pulled his cock out of you, staying snug inside you as he positioned you to where he wanted you to be. 

As soon as you were in position, he held no mercy towards you. Pounding away at you, like a man with nothing else to live for at that moment but to ravage you. Tears welled in your eyes as absolute euphoric pleasure took over you, it came as quick as lighting. With the sudden overload on your senses, your control over your actions snapped.

A moan slipped out of your lips, the sound causing him to falter for just a moment. With the wet sound of skin against skin, he leaned down once more, moving his long hair out of his face, finally allowing him to see the tears streaming down your face, your eyes slightly opened, rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape with spit dripping down.

One of Shouta’s hands stayed at your hips while the other suddenly reached down, wrapping around underneath your chin, pulling your body upwards with ease. Your hands propped you up as he pulled your head back, your eyes locking. The position allowed you to see just how frenzied your husband looked. His thick fat cock plunging mg into you, each movement only escalating him more and more.

“How long have you been awake sweetheart? Huh, liked what I was doing to you? Hmm?”

You tried to speak, but the only thing that could slip out of your mouth was pleas if you could even call it that.

“Daddy, Daddy-fuck, it’s too–fuck!” You screeched, gripping at the pillow as your eyes squeezed shut, overcome by the sudden frenzied thrusts your husband was sending your way. 

“Dirty little slut, letting me think you were asleep ? How long were you awake for?”

For a moment, you couldn’t answer him, only focused on the effervescent volcano building up within you. All of a sudden, his thrusts slowed down, causing you to whine as you looked back at his teary eyes. 

“I asked you, how long have you been awake?”

“Since the moment—ahh– you walked in! Since the moment, you walked in, please don’t stop fucking me, Daddy!”

Shouta suddenly pulled all the way out, your cunt only squeezing around the tip of his fat cock, before slamming it back into you, almost hitting and bruising your cervix. Both you and his own moans and groans echoed into the air, mixing together in a beautiful melody. His hand left your chin, your body flopping forward for a couple seconds before suddenly feeling your arms being jerked back. Your moans became scream-like as he grabbed at both of your wrists, suddenly pulling your arms back. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, hissing as he pummeled into you, “so fucking tight–huh, you like the way I fuck you, huh?”

You could barely get any words out, shaking your head vigorously, clenching around him. Every plunge into your cunt devoured you, your husband’s moans and groans had your body trembling. His growls reverberated within your ears, only causing your body to curl in pleasure. 

“I said,” he suddenly cut into your thoughts, your body jerking up even further, “you like the way I fuck you, slut”

“Yes, daddy!”

Shouta’s chuckle was deep, and his thrusts only overwhelmed you even further. You relished in the way your skin took the pain, feeling the bloom and sting tingle all over you. If you could blush, you knew the bottom of your thighs would be blooming red. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, your eyes rolling out the back of your head. All of a sudden, Shouta dropped your arms, your body flopping, back arching into the bed as his hands gripped at the flesh at your hips and butt. His thrusts became erratic in nature, his already broken-down composure crumbling even further. You could hear his breathy words, soaking in the neediness laced within them. 

“Missed you so fucking much, my wife– my fucking wife.”

“Look so fucking pretty, so fucking senstive f’ me.”

“Missed this pretty fucking pussy, hate how much I have to leave you–fuck!”

Shouta’s body lurched, towering over your own. You could feel his sweat dripping down from his body, falling like light rain into your almost bareback, your thin night-top crumpled up at your bosom. Your hands crumpled up the blankets and sheets underneath you, the feeling of your tongue slightly grazing against the fabric. Your words soon dulled out, the only thing on your tongue was your monas and coherent words putting together the title you called him in bed. You could feel your cunt tightening up around him, like a ticking time bomb going off within you. 

“Such a sweet fucking pussy– fuck–” his body suddenly lunched, the bruising grip he had on your hip tightening. 

Your body convulsed, shaking in his hold as your mind went blank white, tears streaking out of your eyes as your climax ripped out of you, your juices spilling and ripping all over him. 

“Daddy!—”  your final words cut, your voice echoing against the white walls of your room.

With a final grunt, you felt your husband slump over, feeling his dick twitching inside of you, painting your walls white. Soon, the only thing you could hear was the sounds of your heavy breathing, both your and Shouta’s as well. You let out a whimper as you felt him pull out his cock out of you, leaving you with withdrawal. Without him letting go of your hips, your legs fully slumped onto the wet bed. With hands still around you, shrieking as he swept you up from the bed. You held onto him as your husband slowly got off the bed, turning your head to see him slip into your bedroom’s bathroom, using one hand to turn the light on. He placed you on the toilet, before walking to your sink. You couldn't help the soft smile that slowly appeared on your face as you heard the faucet turn on. 

He walked back over with a rag, slowly opening up your legs as you both felt and saw your cum mixed with his, dripping down your inner thigh. He moved the warm rag against your skin, letting out a short gasp as he grazed the rag against your sensitive cunt, cleaning up the main source of the mess. You heard your husband let out a breath of a chuckle, seeing a ghost of a smirk etched on his face. Your soft smile turned abashed as your hand reached up, smacking him slightly on his shoulder. Your brick house of a husband didn’t even flinch from your smack, continuing to clean you up. Soon you could feel nothing but the touch of water on your legs. Once finished, your husband slowly pulled your soaked shorts down the rest of the way, before tossing them into your laundry hamper. With nothing else, he carried you back to the bed. 

The two of you slipped underneath the sheets, his arm easily wrapping your waist as he pulled you close. You had no use of the pillows, using your husband’s naked chest, humming at the warmth that radiated off of his body. Before you knew it, you had laid a soft kiss against the beefy shoulder of your husband, before snuggling back into him. You both heard and felt him move, smiling as you felt a soft pressure against the top of your head, feeling the sensation of lips. With that, you drifted off to sleep, slowly hearing your own husband’s snores echo into her. 

[littlexdeaths]

borrow the moonlight - e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: descriptions of trauma/night terrors, upside down, mentions of eddie and reader’s deaths, allusions to smut, body insecurities, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, cream pie, one use of daddy

a/n: this might not make a lot of sense if you haven’t read the first part, so you can do that here.

also thank you to my baby @strangerstilinski for looking this over for me and @mugloversonly for the suggestion on the title 💕

based on as long as you’re mine from wicked

word count: 3.4k

His feet hit the ground at a rapid pace, his makeshift shield clutched tightly in his fist. His spear had long been abandoned, the metal lid now his only source of protection.

Not much farther now, keep pushing.

The flapping of bat wings are getting closer as Dustin’s high pitched screams cut through the air.

“Eddie! Run faster!”

He’s almost there, the trailer door is barely ten feet away now. And that much closer to you. His ears are ringing and your words echo through his head.

Please come back to us.

Eddie’s foot catches on a vine, causing him to go crashing to the ground. His eyes widen in fear as the swarm of demobats suddenly surround him. Another scream pierces the air as he holds the shield over his face, dread filling his chest.

He’d know that voice anywhere.

You weren’t supposed to go through the gate, you were supposed to stay in Hawkins. Why didn’t you listen to him for once? But before Eddie can process what’s happening he feels a bite pierce through the flesh of his stomach, his own screams sounding far away in his ears.

But when he feels your hands on his chest the panic really sets in, and you move the shield away from his face. The bats are circling the both of you now, and he attempts to tuck you into his side. The metal lid now covers your faces as the male uses his own body to shield the rest of you.

“I couldn’t just leave you in here,” your voice shakes and tears stream down your cheeks.

A painful cry leaves your lips as one of the creatures bites down on your calf.

“Stupid, baby, you’re so stupid!” He cries before pressing his lips to yours.

The creatures circling above you let out one more loud shriek, and Dustin watches in utter horror as they dive down toward you both. Before Eddie can process what’s happening, you’ve rolled yourself on top of him. Shielding his body from the onslaught of demobats, your cries of pain echo loudly in his ears.

No no no.

Eddie awakes with a start, a muffled scream ripping its way out of his lungs as he sits straight up in bed. He’s dripping sweat, chest rising and falling as he attempts to catch his breath. He frantically pats the spot beside him; he panics once he notices it’s empty, the sheets cool to the touch.

Meaning you hadn’t been in bed for quite some time. He swings his legs over the side of the mattress, but he doesn’t get the chance to stand before you’re rushing back into your bedroom. His heart rate begins to slow as he takes you in, fully coming back to reality.

You’re wearing one of his old Garfield t-shirts, the neck is so stretched out it’s basically hanging off of your shoulder. Your legs are bare, just a pair of fuzzy socks adorning your feet and the sight brings a small smile to his lips.

Your hair is messy from sleep and pulled back from your face. But the dark circles under your eyes tell him you’ve been up for a lot longer than he realizes.

Despite all of that, you still managed to take his breath away.

“Another nightmare?” your voice is soft, practically a whisper as you approach him.

Eddie reaches forward to grab your shirt in his fist, pulling you between his open legs. He buries his face in your middle and you wrap your arms around him, pressing a tender kiss to his sweaty curls.

“You— you went through the gate.” His voice is muffled as you run your fingers through his curls.

“You… you…”

Eddie can’t speak the words, but you already know what he was going to say.

His shoulders shake as he starts to cry, but the implication of his words makes a lump form in your throat.

“It’s okay baby, it was just a dream. I’m right here.”

You let him soak your shirt with his tears, knowing he needed to let it out before he’d calm down completely. It had been well over a week since he had a nightmare of this magnitude, and you had thought he was beginning to improve.

Clearly, you were very wrong.

This was the first time he had never dreamt of you dying though, and it broke your heart. In the beginning it was him who had been the one to comfort you when you awoke in the dead of the night. Dreams of his lifeless body, trapped in the upside down forever flashing behind your eyes. But the further away from Hawkins you went, is when his nightmares began.

So now it was your turn to comfort him.

When his breathing starts to slow, he carefully pulls away from your middle. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy as he glances up at you, the tear streaks beginning to dry on his cheeks.

“Can I see her?” he asks hoarsely.

You smile softly, carefully untangling yourself from him. You press a light kiss to his forehead, before you slip out of the room. Eddie wipes any remaining tears from his cheeks, running a hand through his messy curls in an attempt to tame them.

You return a few moments later with a bundle of blankets in your arms. Eddie’s face immediately lights up at the sight of you two, grinning as you carefully pass the sleeping infant into his awaiting arms.

“I just got her to go back to sleep, so try not to wake her,” you whisper.

You take a seat beside him on the bed, watching fondly as he gazes down at the little girl. A calloused finger lightly strokes her rosy cheek, before she sleepily wraps her small hand around his finger. Her dark curls are sticking up wildly, much like his own. She was almost a carbon copy of him, except for her eyes.

Those were all you.

“I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long… she was just so fussy,” you apologize, exhaustion clear in your voice.

Exhaustion soon melts into worry the longer you look at him, worried that your prolonged absence was the reason for his sudden night terror. Despite knowing that these things were quite common, especially considering what you both had gone through.

Eddie just shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s little fist before meeting your eyes.

“I’m fine, sweetheart, I promise. Having both of you here really helps,” he reassures you.

When Winnie starts to stir in his arms, he begins to gently rock her back and forth, cooing at her every so often. The sight of the two of them together makes your heart feel more full than you could have ever anticipated. You want him to soak up as much time with her as possible, so you slip out of the room again and into your small kitchen.

After everything that happened with Vecna, closing the gates and eventually clearing Eddie’s name— you both put Hawkin’s in your rearview mirror.

You found yourself in a small, but cute seaside town on the coast of Washington. After you quickly realized the hustle and bustle of city life just wasn’t for either of you. While Indianapolis was a great city, you barely made it a month before the nightmares started.

The constant noise only seemed to fuel his growing anxiety, and he woke up screaming more nights than not. His body would be drenched in sweat and he trembled in your arms as the memories of the upside down flashed behind his eyes. The longer you stayed there the worse it became, so you packed up and moved again.

But you would do anything for him, if it meant he was by your side. That he was safe.

Opening the kitchen cabinet you grab out one of the many mugs that used to line the walls of the Munson trailer, one that Wayne had insisted you take with you. Cradling the chipped ceramic in between your palms, you grab out a packet of hot chocolate and empty the powder into the mug. You turn on your electric kettle, before glancing out the kitchen window.

The night is absolutely still, quiet.

Much like you preferred it to be. Experiencing life in the big city made you realize just how much you missed your sleepy little hometown. Before it was overrun by monsters.

You let your eyes slip shut, remembering all those nights you spent with Eddie at lover’s lake. Before your life was turned upside down.

Only the sounds of crickets and your mingled breathing fill the night air. The moon shone brightly overhead, engulfing you both in a pale glow. His fingers would trail over your smooth skin, his mouth swallowing your soft whimpers when they dip further between your thighs—

You’re suddenly snapped out of your daydream when you hear the soft pad of footsteps coming down the hall towards you. And your eyes flutter open when you feel his arms slip around your waist.

“Hopefully she doesn’t wake up again tonight,” he mumbles sleepily, pulling you flush against his chest.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching as you begin pouring the warm water into the mug.

“Is that for me?” he asks, his breath tickles your neck and causes you to squirm in his embrace.

His lip lifts in a cheshire like grin when the movement has you unintentionally grinding your ass back into him.

“Mhm, to help you sleep.”

You shrug, knowing from past experience how a cup of hot chocolate was always able to coax him back into a deep slumber. It was something Wayne had mentioned in passing once, it was one of the only things that would help when Eddie awoke from a nightmare as a young boy.

You glance up at the clock on the wall, 4:07 am. Eddie would have to be up to go back into the shop in a few hours.

He hums, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and traveling down your throat. His hands that were once secure around your middle begin to wander lower, brushing against the hem of your t-shirt.

“Hmm… I think I know of something better to help me sleep, darlin’.”

Eddie spins you around in his arms, a small gasp escaping you at the sudden movement. The brunette quickly lifts you, setting you on the counter before slotting himself between your open legs. His lips are on yours before you have a chance to reply, your arms slipping around his neck to tug him closer.

His urgency leaves you a little breathless when his mouth trails back down the side of your neck, descending… lower lower lower. Until his lips brush against the curve of your knee and those brown hues gaze up at you longingly from his newfound position on the kitchen floor.

“Eddie…” you hum, caressing the stubble that lines his jaw.

The male continues to press his lips along the apex of your thighs, only stopping when you grip his curls in your fist. You tug on them harshly, in an effort to get his attention, a throaty moan leaves him from your actions.

“Please, let me,” you pause as he sucks onto the flesh of your inner thigh. A soft whine leaves you as his teeth soon graze over that same spot, “Let me take care of you for once.”

The brunette glances up at you again, and the pleading look on your face is enough to convince him. Not that Eddie could ever tell you no, he’s been wrapped around your finger from the first moment he laid eyes on you.

He rises to his feet without another word and helps you down from the counter. You eagerly switch places, guiding him back against the cabinets. Your hands trail down the bare skin of his chest, fingers showing extra care to the uneven flesh.

The scars that littered his torso were just another reminder of what the two of you had been through. Eddie hated them, and for the longest time afterwards he never let you see them. And while they were a reminder of the horrific things he had gone through in that other dimension, they were also a testament of his strength.

That he fought his way back to you— both of you.

“You’re beautiful, Eds,” you mumble, your lips passing over where your fingertips had just been.

Until you sink to your knees, gripping the elastic band of his boxers and tugging them down his thighs. His hardened cock springs free once the fabric pools at his feet, and he kicks them to the side. Your mouth practically waters as you take him in fully. Reaching out to wrap a delicate hand around the base of his shaft, and you feel him shudder.

“I love you,” he breathes, dark eyes watching you with the utmost admiration.

You press a kiss to the pink tip before taking him past your full lips, a low groan leaving his own. His head tilts back as you engulf him completely, fingers gripping the edge of the counter to stable himself. Eddie practically whimpers when he feels you gag around him, hips jutting forward until he hits the back of your throat.

While his eyes have slipped shut, yours are focused intently on him. The way his teeth sink into his lower lip when he tries to quiet himself, and his brows scrunch together when your tongue drags along the underside of his cock. They only flutter open again when he reaches out to rest his palm on the back of your head, slowly fucking himself into your mouth.

“That’s it… shit. You look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” he grunts.

The volume of his moans steadily increases as you pick up the pace. One of your hands rests on his thigh, while the other moves to cup his balls. His face continues to contort in pleasure, each drag of his cock against your tongue has heat pooling in your lower belly. His thigh begins to tremble beneath your palm, and you know he’s close.

Before he reaches that precipice, he’s pulling you off him. A string of saliva drips down your chin as you practically pout up at him. Eddie laughs softly, taking your hands to help you to your feet.

“Don’t give me that look, baby,” he cradles your face in his palms. “I just don’t want this to end yet.”

The male leans forward, capturing your lips with his own. He begins to walk you backwards until you bump into the kitchen table, only pulling away to lift the sleep shirt over your head. Eddie guides your panties down your thighs and helps you step out of the fabric.

“Lay back for me, pretty girl,” while you raise an eyebrow at his request, a playful smile graces over his features, and that dimple makes an appearance.

Eddie carefully lifts you again, and you hiss quietly as the cool wood of the table touches your overheated skin.

“It’s my turn to worship you,” he asserts.

Eddie then kisses the tip of your nose before coaxing you to lay back against the hard surface. A small shiver runs through you as he leans over you, the light above the stove bathing the kitchen in a warm, yellow hue. It casts an almost halo-like glow around his silhouette, he looks like an angel.

His head dips, kissing along your collarbone and your breath begins to pick up in your chest. He can feel your heart racing beneath his lips, which spurs him on further. Those same lips graze over the swell of your breasts, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak. He soon switched to show the same amount of attention to the other.

But Eddie doesn’t stop there, allowing his lips to travel over the stretch marks that zigzagged across your lower tummy and hips.

Your own set of battle scars, while different from his— only made you more beautiful in his eyes.

He could tell from the change in your breathing that you were nervous, hands pushing his long curls back from his face. While his body had changed, so had yours. Growing a little version of the two of you had widened your hips, thighs. The raised stripes along your skin was something you were still getting used to.

Despite knowing how much he adored you, that little voice in the back of your head continued to tell you that you weren't as desirable as you used to be. That he wouldn’t want you in the same way he used to, your body was too different. Eddie notices the far off look in your eyes, and he already knows the reason for it.

But he wouldn’t let you dwell on those thoughts for long.

“So goddamn gorgeous…” he nuzzles his face into your stomach, blowing raspberries against your skin. The brunette grins at you as you giggle softly, “That’s my girl.”

He slowly crawls on top of you, resting his palms on either side of your head before slotting himself in between your open thighs. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his dark eyes beginning to melt your remaining defenses.

You reach between your bodies to grasp his shaft, lining him up with your entrance. He sinks in slowly, savoring the way your warm walls envelop him fully. Once he’s fully seated at your deepest point, his head drops. Forehead resting against your own as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Eddie gives an experimental thrust forward, his cock dragging against your walls in such a delicious manner. The feeling has you whining softly, clutching onto him as he fills you to the brim with each gentle rock of his hips. The table beneath you creaks in protest, but the sound only encourages him to go deeper— faster.

Determined to watch you fall apart beneath him.

And when his cock hits that perfect spot that has you keening aloud, he presses his lips to yours to silence you. You can feel him everywhere, body completely molded against yours. So much so that you can’t tell where you begin and he ends.

Eddie can feel the way you start to tremble beneath him, your manicured nails digging harshly into his biceps. Just another way that you’ve marked him as your own. His lips soon detach from your own, trailing down your jaw to the hollow of your throat.

It’s been far too long since you’ve been like this, between his long hours at the shop and taking care of your newborn baby… you haven’t been able to have this time together.

So as much as you both would love to do this for hours, your bodies clearly have other plans.

Another whimper of his name has his cock twitching inside you, his thrusts beginning to pick up speed as your walls clamp down harder around him.

“You gonna make me a daddy again, angel?” he pants into your damp skin, the question being the thing to finally push you over the edge.

You cry out incoherent babbles of his name and exclamations as your body shakes. Stars dancing behind your eyes when they squeeze shut. Curses tumble from his mouth when you feel him spill inside you, continuing to rock his hips until the exhaustion finally overtakes him.

Eddie all but collapses onto you, sweaty and spent. You giggle when he nips at your shoulder, lifting his head to regard you with the sleepiest of expressions.

But that peace doesn’t last long.

The phone rings suddenly, a shrill sound makes you wince. A loud wail soon follows, both sounds piercing your ears. You both are scrambling off the table in a flurry of limbs.

“Can you go get her, please?” you groan, pulling your discarded shirt over your head before you reach for the receiver.

Eddie haphazardly pulls his boxers back up his legs before he rushes down the hall toward your crying infant.

“Hello?”

You can’t hide the bitterness from flooding your tone, knowing sleep wouldn’t be coming for quite some time now that your daughter was awake again.

“You need to come back to Hawkins… now.”

You would recognize Robin’s voice anywhere, but the urgency in her tone has your brows scrunching in confusion.

You grip the phone tighter in your palm, “Why? Rob, what's going on?”

It’s silent for a beat, only the sounds of her shuddered breathing on the other end of the line.

“He’s back.”

tagging some moots who seemed interested 💕@loserboysandlithium @razzeith @vamp-bunny @take-everything-you-can @probablyin-bed @mmunson86 @eddies-acousticguitar @nailbatanddungeon @guiltyasquinn

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

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

[Chapter 24] || [Chapter 26]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: not smut but a bit of sexual tension Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ahem ahem ahem ahem

thanks to @lyralein for helping solve a problem I was having during this chapter

and also @st-el-la-luna for THIS brilliance that although I didn't copy or anything, still got stuck in the back of my head and made me giggle and inspired me a little!

Chapter 25: Soap............?

you: simon. you: save me pls. Simon: Location. you: that felt ominous as fuck. Simon: You texted me to help you. Simon: Location. you: oh gosh no simon its not urgent. you: its not even like you: a panic thing you: no danger Simon: Don’t ever text me to save you when it isn’t an actual emergency. you: i’m sorry!!!!!! you: did i scare you that much??? Simon: Yes. Simon: You had me ready to steal a HUMVEE to get to you. you: I’M SORRY! you: i’m just out with my friends for brunch and kyle and johnny came and they’re embarrassing me and i need help Simon: So that’s where they went. Simon: You’ve got this. you: SIMON, THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT OUR SEX LIVES! you: DON’T LEAVE ME TO DEAL WITH THIS ALONE. you: HELP? Simon: Darling you’re dating them, you’re gonna have to get used to this sooner or later. you: I KNOW BUT STILL you: SIMON PLEASE Simon: I’m in a meeting, darling. Simon: You’ve got this. Simon: 🖤 you: SIMON?! you: awwww you sent me an emoji! you: BUT SIMON?!?!?!??! you: don’t leave me like this!!! you: how dare youuuu

He stopped responding so you sighed dramatically and put your phone away, your eyes flittering over the table.

In just 15 minutes, Johnny and Kyle had gone from bickering to regaling your friends with sexcapade stories to talking about your dates, about each other, about the rest of the guys, about work. 

Your friends are, of course, eating it up, how could they not? The lads are charming, funny, interesting, hot…

You want to pay attention to the stories Johnny is regaling your friends about, as well as Kyle, with the retelling of his helicopter upside-down cruise, but… you can’t. You’re still mortified, long after they moved away from the sex talk… 

And it doesn’t help that Kyle has taken your chair and made you sit on his lap while the five of you talk.

Sure, you’ve graduated to regular talk, but that doesn’t solve the fact that Kyle’s cock is hard, straining against the fly of his grey jeans, and slotted right between your ass cheeks, his hands gripping you around the hip to keep you sat still.

Thank God for the existence of Simon Motherfucking Riley (memo to self: ask him and the rest of the lads what their middle names are)...

The door opens after what felt like a torturous amount of time and in strolls a 6ft4 mountain of a man in all black, as usual.

“L.T.!” Johnny shouts and waves him over, as if somehow Johnny’s raucous laugh was missable and Simon might not know where he, and the group, is.

Your friends, of course, immediately look over, their jaws proceeding to drop in unison at the sight of Simon.

His sexy little black leather jacket, black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots… No mask in sight… And, for once, his hair is lying flat over his forehead, loose blond strands just barely reaching his thick eyebrows.

He has to have done it on purpose.

“Hi…” You greeted Simon softly, your face warming up a bit at the sight of him. He nods at you and cocks an eyebrow, the left corner of his mouth rising in a smirk.

Just as you’re wondering where he came from, how he knew where you were, and wasn’t he in a meeting…

“Finally. Texted ye the address like 30 minutes ago.” Johnny quips next to you.

“Piss off.” Simon replies as he keeps looking at you. He doesn’t even bother to introduce himself to Leah and Mia.

“Hear you’ve been embarrassing our partner.” Simon says, his brown eyes slowly sliding up to Johnny then to Kyle behind you.

“Ye did?” Johnny asks and turns to look at you. “Ye told on me?!” He asks dramatically, as if it was the biggest betrayal.

“Don’t look at ‘em, look at me.” Simon quips as he leans forward and rests his hand on the back of Kyle and your chair, glaring right at Johnny.

“Oh, please, L.T., it’s all good-natured.” Johnny says dismissively with a playful smile on his lips.

“Is it?” Simon retorts.

“Why’s it feel like I’m watching a big brother confront a school bully?” Kyle quips.

“Don’t start too, Garrick, you’ll get your dose soon.” Simon adds.

“Si… Please…” You remark and laugh nervously as you look around, your face already burning hotter and hotter. “We’re making a scene.”

“You asked me to save ya, darlin’, that’s what I’m doin’, hm?” Simon tells you before leaning close and planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth, his eyes still glued to Johnny. “So, how about it, Johnny?”

“How about what, L.T.?” Johnny asks, though, you don’t miss the way his eyes are shining at the sight of Simon’s protectiveness… or the way Kyle’s breath hitches right behind your ear, his cock throbbing against your ass.

“If you’re so keen on embarrassing people by revealing private matters… How about we tell everyone about the reason your callsign’s Soap?” Simon quips. Then, he turns his head and, staring right at your friends, he continues.

“A callsign is like an alias we use over the radio.” He explains. “And Johnny’s here is ‘Soap’... wanna guess why? I’ll tell you…” He turns his head and looks right at Johnny again.

“It’s because he’s dropped his in the shower more often than one can stand to bloody count, if you catch my drift.” He remarks, then, he shoots you a little wink.

“That’s nae- You know it’s- You-” For the first time in what must be his whole life, Johnny was left a blubbering mess, stuttering over himself…

“Damn… didn’t know friendly fire was turned on…” You quip, trying to clear the air a bit. It seems to work, because all three of the men around you chuckle at it.

Your eyes then lock with Simon’s, then Johnny’s… and meanwhile, Simon’s also looking at Kyle behind you. The sexual tension is almost palpable…

“I think we should go home, so we avoid any more embarrassment, hm?” Simon suggests and pulls you up to your feet by the forearm, causing you to squeak in surprise at the suddenness of it. 

“I agree.” Kyle says as he stands up too. 

“Well said, L.T.” Johnny adds.

Simon pulls out his wallet and drops a few bills on the table. “For the check.” He tells Leah and Mia. “Nice to meet you.” Then, he drags you out of the bistro.

“It was very nice to meet you!” Kyle tells the girls, making no attempts to cover the bulge in his pants as he rushes after you and Simon.

“Sorry, duty calls. But we need to do this again.” Johnny adds as he scoots across the gap in the chairs and winks at the girls before setting off after the three that have already left. “I’ll make sure to tell you all the hot gossip next time!” He adds loudly before leaving out the door.

Leah and Mia are left sitting there flabbergasted, eyes blinking slowly, before exchanging a look with one another.

“The candle worked too well.” Mia states blankly.

“It did.” Leah agrees. “Do you… have another one?”

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

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

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[la-muerta]

[ENG SUB + Translation] Hou Minghao's farewell message to Zhao Yuanzhou, 16 Nov 2024

"There's always a breeze or two in the mortal world that can send me on beautiful dreams for 18,000 miles."

This trip in the mortal world is a journey that I, Zhao Yuanzhou, had to make.

A one-word spell: Dream. Now, let me tell you a story...

In the Great Wilderness, everyone knows me, and everyone sees me as the Great Demon that has committed every evil deed, deserving of death. But I made the unexpected choice to enter the fray with sworn enemies, old friends, and new acquaintances, embarking on a new path investigating cases and hunting demons together. To voluntarily sign a contract that decided my death date... most people would think that is an ill-omened beginning. But to me it was a relief, to finally be free of the prison that was of my own making...

Fate bound our demon hunting team together, and as we solved cases together, we got to know each other's true hearts. Some amongst us conquered might with gentleness, some amongst us were full of righteousness, some soft-hearted despite our tough exterior, some are lively troublemakers, some holding on to a true heart. Such a motley crew coming together and the only thing they seemed to be able to agree on was: that I wasn't to be trusted. They know me as Zhao Yuanzhou, but they can't forget all the evil I did as a Great Demon. But it didn't matter since I didn't hold much hope for myself as well, so all these other emotions didn't mean anything to me.

If you asked why I came here, I would tell you it's because I am the Great Demon Zhu Yan, forced to bear the burden of being born as a "vessel". I lost control and made an unredeemable mistake, and only death can eliminate the pain in my heart. Living is torture; Death is the gift of relief. However, I also wanted to give myself a chance at redemption, a boat rowing against the current.

Along the way, the demon hunting team encountered many complicated cases, but we worked hand in hand to solve them and the blades that we had pointed towards each other were turned towards the outside. Sworn enemies became comrades in arms, and as we took one step closer to saving the world, we also uncovered wounds that had already scarred over. As we saw each other's past wounds more clearly, we saw the past laughter that was used to hide the pain. Those who had a responsibility to protect found themselves unable to, those bearing the burdens of upholding the family's honour were just trapped in a dream, and those should have grown up with no worries found their world turned upside down overnight...

If you have a nightmare, someone might comfort you by saying don't worry, everything that happens in a dream is inverted. But what if it's a beautiful dream? Everything I'd experienced felt so real to me. As I journeyed on, I began to get lost in the dream. I started to wonder, what was I going to do if I was the one who lost everyone else in the end? I have to confess, I began to feel reluctant to part with everyone...

The lonely boat travels across the bitter seas, but friendship caused waves to rise in a heart that had died. Along the way, we mended each other bit by bit. What I have experienced is too beautiful for the other "me" to ever understand. The wish to enjoy the passing seasons and happiness of an ordinary life held great hidden strength, so that even though I already knew the ending, I did not give up the struggle. Because of all of you, I was driven not just by my thoughts of despair, but by my desire to protect all of you.

Be it the Great Wilderness or the mortal realm, everything must return to its original path. If you grieve over the fact that Zhu Yan did not get a chance to choose, then I will tell you that it was only a dream. If you are looking forward to embarking on a new journey with Zhao Yuanzhou's companions, then you have to wake up to hear the rest of the story. By the way, don't forget what I said – in the future, when it rains, that means I've come to accompany you. Turn the boat around and think of it as a big dream. On the other shore, someone is searching for me. A one-word spell: Wake.

The days I spent with Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, confining myself to my shell and experiencing a life seeking an inevitable end, but I also felt the redemption in the countdown. For an actor, this was a very special creative process. The director's help, encouragement, and trust played a huge role in letting me experience this unique and meaningful role of Zhao Yuanzhou. He gave me a lot of room to interpret the one and only Zhao Yuanzhou, and with this support, I was able to accompany Zhao Yuanzhou through this journey, and finally entrust him to you, the audience, with peace of mind.

Also unforgettable were our companions who were with us every step of the way, and the process of everyone coming together in the creative process is very enjoyable, very satisfying, very worthwhile, and I will remember those scenes vividly. I will miss the Great Wilderness, the Demon Hunting Bureau, and the Kunlun Mountains... places where we left our joys and sorrows. Thanks to Wen Xiao, Xiao Zhuo-daren, Pei Sijing, Xiao Jiu, Ying Lei – because of our little demon hunting squad, Zhao Yuanzhou left knowing he was loved. Thank you to my ride-or-die Li Lun, we didn't forget our oath to protect the Great Wilderness. Thank you to my dear friend Zhao Wan'er, and Grandpa Yingzhao, who gave Yuanzhou the rare warmth of familial affection! Last but not least, I would like to thank all the crew behind the scenes for their hard work over the past few months. I have woken up from the dream, but my heart will always remember.

Signed, Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, with remorse but no regrets

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The man walks you straight through a yard and into the thicket of trees behind. If he wasn’t so confident, you would think he had no idea where he’s going. His hand stays locked around your arm as he has you staggering over peat and leaves.  

You come out on the other side of the trees to the open highway. A car zooms by but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, the force of the cars whipping by blowing around you, horns honking. He pushes you towards the cement barrier. Before you can lift your leg, he lifts you. 

He puts you on the other side and follows. He doesn’t miss a step. On and on, across another three lanes and down into a ditch. Across the field. You look back and he yanks you, nearly taking you of your feet. 

A chill creeps through you, numbing you to the terror boiling in your gut. Your legs tremble but don’t stop either. You’re too scared to resist. 

The sky darkens and the moon peeks out from behind another line of pines. On and on. At last, your body gives out. 

Your legs burn as the fold. He catches you. He puts you over his shoulder and presses on. That’s when it really sets in. It’s happening. You don’t know what just that it isn’t good. Your body wracks as your tears flow free, rolling down to your hairline as you hang upside down. 

When he stops, you’re in a clearing. He puts you down. You sit on the dirt as he squats in front of you. The moonlight barely limns his figure. He reaches to his belt. He pulls out a pair of thick cuffs and dangles them. He tilts his head.  

You sniffle, “please, I won’t go.” 

He stares then slowly hooks them back on his belt. He stands and looks around. You hear him in the dark, twigs snapping, leaves rustling. You catch a glimpse of his shadow now and again. The crickets hum and dampness rises from the ground. 

A spark, then a full bloom of flame goes up. The fire casts a light over the barrier built with large rocks and the pile of thick sticks broken to fuel it. The night flickers with the cinder and he approaches you again. He moves you to sit closer to the heat. 

He lowers himself next to you, legs bent, arms resting on his knees. He just sits and watches the flames. You look down and slump. You’re exhausted. 

You flinch as he grips your shoulder. He lowers his legs, crosses them, and pulls you down until you’re on your side. He guides your head onto his thigh. He holds you there. He doesn’t need to give the order. 

The adrenaline never quite evaporates, merely recedes. Your eyes close on their own. You plummet into a pit of darkness. Your head and body ache with the sheer senseless sleep. 

You wake with a chatter. The man still sits. He hasn’t moved. You flutter your lashes at the lightening horizon. 

His hand drifts from your shoulder and crawls up your neck. He brushes along your cheek and over your hair. You hold your breath. Your scalp aches as you brace for another cruel yank. He retracts and pokes your shoulder instead. 

You sit up and stand only when he does. He reaches for you and you cower. He rips your knapsack from your arms as he spins you. He hurls it away into the trees. Then, it’s back to walking. 

You’re stiff from a night sleeping on the ground. Your clothes are damp from the dew and a frigidness lingers in your skin. He keeps you moving until the sun meets its apex. 

You come to a lot in the middle of another highway. It’s empty but for a black motorcycle. He marches you to it and guides you onto the back. He straddles the front and flips up the kickstand. You’re too tired to be confused, to wonder about how and why and what. 

He taps his shoulders. You hesitate but grab onto them. It might not be so bad to fly off but you’re still human. You still have that need to survive. 

He takes off with a roar of the motor. You yipe and squeeze tight. You fight against the wind and lean forward, hooking your arms around him as you feel your grasp slipping. He doesn’t seem to mind as you cling to him. He has a heart. You can hear it through his back. 

You close your eyes as the wind tunnels around you, whipping around the bike and your bodies. He’s a barrier to the brunt of it.  

He rides through the night and beyond. You have to keep awake to stay latched on. He keeps on and on, into another crowd of trees, one so dense that it darkens the daytime.  

When at last you are still, you as good as fall off the motorcycle. You stumble until he grabs onto you. He moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your shoulders. He leads you from behind. Twisting and turning you in a deliberate path.  

You look up at the faded planks on the side of the reclusive house. You clatter up the steps beside him. He stops and tugs the back of your jacket. You think he wants you to stay still. There’s a beep and something clicks. Then something else. 

You look around in confusion. He flicks your cheek. Hard. You wince and hiss and look forward. He points over your shoulder. You follow the gesture to the door as the latch rolls back on its own. 

You stop before the door and just stare. Where the walls are covered in wooden siding, it is metal. You gulp. He reaches around you, stepping flush to you. He pushes the handle down and shoves the door inward. His other hand nudges your lower back. 

You enter and automatic lights flash on. You gape at the room before you. It’s like any other cabin you’ve seen. On television, you were never rich enough for vacation homes. There’s a floral couch and a matching armchair on a round area rug, right before a fireplace, a table with a lamp by the chair. It’s all startlingly normal. Not like him. 

[fandomfloozy]

Oh, I'm pretty boy?

pairing: katsuki bakugo x sick!reader

c/w: fluff, early relationship, petnames (katsuki calls reader babe, reader evidently calls katsuki pretty lol), sprinkles of hispanic!reader/spanish-speaking!reader, gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

~°•*~

You've been sick the last few days.

You're on the tail-end of recovery now, thank god, but for most of the week you've been bed-ridden, and snotty, and sweaty, and hot, and cold. It's been miserable, if you're being honest. With the light at the end of the tunnel in view, you're glad the worst of it is over.

There has been one upside to being sickly, though--one aspect that makes you wish you could be sick just one more day: Ever since you fell ill, since the moment he'd heard you were taking leave off work to rest at home for a bit, you've been under the thorough care of your very own, self-appointed nurse, Katsuki.

There's this saying: "You'll never truly know someone well enough until you've seen them struggle financially, grieve a lost loved one, or witness them while they're sick."

Your relationship is new. Not early days, but still far too soon for him to be seeing you sick, for your liking.

But when he showed up at your door a couple days ago--masked up, worry-eyed, and holding all the essentials for treating a typical head cold--how could you refuse him?

And to be fair, he's been a rock. He's changed your compresses (water bowl kept at optimal temperature), given you medicine in intervals (timed and administered to the MINUTE), and even cooked you palatable meals (anything you could keep down, but namely the caldo recipe he got from your mom when he asked her what you ate when you're sick). He did everything short of rubbing Vick's vapo rub on you (not for lack of trying), all while keeping a level head and brushing aside your concerns over feeling like you're burdening him.

"You're my partner," he'd say matter-of-factly. "This is my job, ain't it?"

A rhetorical question. He said it as if it was an irrefutable truth, as if he hadn't even considered an alternative, as if the very thought of leaving you to fend off this cold by yourself was an affront to your relationship, scowl on his face and all.

His bedside manner needed work, but when he said those words to you... let's just say the flush rising up your face probably had nothing to do with the cold.

So, yeah. While you're happy to be feeling better, you can't help being a little disappointed that the doting will soon come to an end.

Which is why you now sit with your head resting in your hands, elbows on the kitchen bar, making the most of admiring a now unmasked Katsuki as he cooks your dinner on what will be the last of your "sick days."

You're unashamed in your ogling. You feel bold. It might be the relaxed atmosphere. It might be the way Katsuki let you wear his hoodie tonight... It might just be the cold medicine. You feel dozy, comfy, and so dopily content as you watch your boyfriend chop vegetables.

He does it with ease--so practiced that it's like he's on autopilot. His defenses are down, completely in his element.

"'Ya sure you want all this cooked in with your rice?" Now that you're feeling better, he's less inclined to hold his tongue about his thoughts on your childhood dishes.

You yawn and nod. "Mhm, it's the way my mami always makes it."

"Just sayin', I could make ya rice without all this extra stuff."

"It's a good thing you're not making rice, Katsuki." You pout dramatically for emphasis. "You're making sopita."

"Sopita," he repeats, shaking his head with a sideways grin. "Alright, babe. I've got you covered. Sopita coming right up."

You switch to resting your cheek in one hand, continuing to observe your boyfriend as he works. He looks so serene this way. With his smug little half smile, even his expression screams "relaxed"--very unlike his usual frown and furrowed brow.

You're not used to seeing him like this. Sure, you've seen him in a good mood, upbeat, excited, even downright elated, like on the day you agreed to go out with him.

Katsuki has always been an... expressive person, even when it doesn't grant him the most flattering of expressions.

Right now, though, while he's contented and caring for you in the comfort of your own home, his features are on display in such a way that you wonder if the cough syrup really is getting to you.

He looks almost...

Pretty...

"You're starin'."

You know you are. "Sorry," you laugh. "I was just thinking how it's a shame you have such a cara de fuchi most of the time, Kats. You're so pretty."

His head snaps toward you. "Fucking WHAT." The furrow is back in his brow. If you were paying proper attention, you'd notice the flush rising up his neck and the back of his ears, but your eyelids are feeling a bit heavy at this point.

You wave your free hand dismissively. "You know, cara de fuchi," you explain. You're sure you've used this phrase in front of him before. "Like you're a sour puss, you pull faces--"

"I'm not fucking pretty," he interrupts.

You open your eyes slightly to squint at him. "Pfft," you laugh. "Has no one ever told you that?"

"Hell, no." He turns back to the task at hand. Grumbling under his breath.

With his signature grimace making its return, the allure is gone; but now that you've seen it, you can't unsee it. He's beautiful. His eyes are a nice shape, and the crimson color of his irises is striking against his light complexion. The way his hair falls just above is strong browbone makes you want to push it back and rub at the scrunch between his brows. And you know he has soft lips, but on top of that, they're such a nice shade of pink. His jawline. His cheekbones. His chin.

It's a fundamental truth. Katsuki Bakugo is pretty.

You fold your arms on the island and press your cheek into the crook of your elbow. "I'm sure people would tell you more often if all the pretty wasn't covered up by your perpetual stank face."

Cue said stank face. He bumbles over his words in frustration for a second. "You're sick and loopy, stop bein' weird."

You giggle. "And you have a nice face when you're not acting chronically disgusted by the world."

He looks at you properly and you smile to yourself in pure delight and fondness.

"You're pretty when you're happy, Katsuki."

He deliberates over it for a moment, stank face semi relaxing. He's about to say something else when you cut into the silence with another yawn.

His gaze softens into an amused smirk as he reaches for your cheek and pinches softly. "Alright, alright. Don't fall asleep on me just yet, you gotta eat properly before goin' to bed."

You swat his hand away and rise to attention while rubbing your eyes. "Okay, okay. I'm up."

He smiles and goes back to cooking your half-prepared meal. "Ponte las pilas, or whatever the hell your mom says when you start lazin' around."

You huff at that. "I regret teaching you Spanish, you always pick up the worst phrases."

Katsuki barks out a laugh and you can't help the snort that follows as you giggle right along with him.

You two settle into the monotony of the last evening of your first of many sick days together. You're sure your boyfriend has had more than enough of witnessing you sick to satisfy stipulations. Suffice to say that he felt he knew you and your "sleepy freak tendencies" a bit better now.

There's definitely an addendum you'd make to that old saying, though: You'll never know how pretty someone is until you've seen them care for you while you're sick.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via ara-kan (deactivated)

[novaursa]

I need this kind of drug please Dareon targaryen x reader velarion Dareon kidnaps his loving niece of dragonstone after he finds out that he will marry jacaerys in 1 moon Dareon and her get married on while she argues with him, she pulls him by the hair so he lets her go, she takes his virtue after the moonlight act If you want you can go wife but you are mine not your brother's oh can you stay uh figure out with me a way to avoid this ridiculous war

Wedded in War

- Summary: Your uncle steals you from Dragonstone and takes you as his wife; true to his name: Daeron the Daring.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Daeron Targaryen

- Note: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The cool winds of Oldtown bite at your skin, tugging at your gown as Daeron pulls you through the crowded streets, his grip firm on your wrist. The Starry Sept looms ahead, its dark silhouette bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. The scent of salt from the nearby harbor mingles with the distant smell of incense, and despite the beauty of the ancient city, all you can feel is anger seething in your chest.

“How dare you take me from Dragonstone!” you snap, your voice low but filled with fury. You tug against his grasp, but his hand tightens, his pace unrelenting. “You had no right, Daeron! You must take me back. You will take me back.”

His face, pale and sharp in the dwindling light, remains tense. His violet eyes flick to you, but he does not stop, does not yield to your demands. “I couldn't leave you there to marry Jacaerys. You were meant to be mine,” he says, his tone desperate yet determined. “I love you, Y/N. I won’t let you go so easily.”

His words ignite a fire within you, burning with the weight of your stolen future. “This is madness!” you shout. “Do you not see what you’ve done? You’ve stolen me from my home, from my family!”

“You’re Targaryen blood,” he responds, stopping at the steps of the Starry Sept and turning to face you. The people passing by give the two of you strange looks, but you don’t care. All that matters is the rising anger within you and the thrum of your heartbeat. “And Targaryen blood must stay pure.”

Your chest tightens at his words, his intention sinking into you. He had taken you not out of love, but out of duty, out of a belief in keeping the family line strong, unbroken by outsiders. “So, that’s all I am to you?” you spit, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and pain. “A means to an end? A symbol of blood and fire?”

His hands come up to your shoulders, his gaze pleading as he draws closer. “No, you’re more than that, far more. I’ve always loved you. Since we were children.” His voice softens, and you see something in his eyes beyond duty, beyond the pressures of his station. “This isn’t just for the bloodline, Y/N. I will love you, cherish you, protect you. I swear it on my life.”

You hesitate, your heart warring with your mind. There’s truth in his voice, an undeniable sincerity in the way he looks at you. But the weight of what he has done presses on your chest, suffocating and confusing. You had been promised to Jacaerys, and now everything has been turned upside down.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “Marry me. Stand by my side, as you were always meant to.”

Your heart skips a beat, caught between his words and the bitter reality of your situation. Can love truly grow from such treachery? You don’t know, but even as your thoughts swirl in chaos, you can feel the pull between you and Daeron, the undeniable bond forged in dragon’s blood and shared history.

With a deep breath, you nod once, barely perceptible, and his shoulders sag with relief. Before you can think further, he pulls you into the Starry Sept, where the High Septon waits.

The vows are spoken in hushed tones, and your fingers tremble as Daeron slides a silver ring onto your finger, the weight of it foreign and heavy. The Starry Sept is grand and cold, its vaulted ceilings seeming to reach toward the heavens, but it feels like a prison. Your heart aches as you repeat your vows, your mind still reeling from the events of the past few hours. 

When it's done, the ceremony leaves an emptiness within you. You’re no longer the daughter of Rhaenyra, destined for Dragonstone and a future with your brother, Jacaerys. You are now the wife of Daeron Targaryen, bound by the oaths you swore beneath the Seven’s watchful eyes.

Later, in the solitude of the chambers prepared for your wedding night, you sit by the window, looking out over the darkened city of Oldtown. Daeron stands nearby, silent as he watches you with an unreadable expression. The bed looms in the background, its presence thick with expectation, with the weight of the night ahead.

“Do you hate me?” he asks quietly, his voice almost swallowed by the sounds of the city below.

You don’t answer immediately, unsure of how to put your feelings into words. You look back at him, at the young man who had taken everything from you and offered only himself in return. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I feel.”

He approaches slowly, cautiously, as though fearing you’ll turn away. His hand brushes against your cheek, and despite everything, there is tenderness there. A part of you wants to flinch away, to push him from you and demand he return you to Dragonstone. But another part, deep inside, wants to believe him, to believe that perhaps, in this dark, twisted way, he loves you as deeply as he claims.

“I swear to you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “I will never hurt you. I will love you every day, with every breath. You are mine, Y/N, and I am yours.”

The words, soft and full of promise, melt the last of your resistance. You reach up, touching his face, your heart a chaotic mix of anger, confusion, and something that feels dangerously close to love.

The night is a blur of emotion—of whispered vows and lingering touches. You both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment, shedding the weight of your shared innocence in the embrace of one another. The world outside ceases to exist, replaced only by the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand. For a moment, you forget the war, the bloodshed, and the sacrifices.

Afterward, as Daeron sleeps beside you, his silver hair fanned out against the pillows, you lie awake, staring at the ceiling. The sheets feel too heavy, and the silence too loud.

Will this sacrifice, this union born out of desperation and desire, truly end the war? Can love, even one as complicated and fraught as yours, be enough to save the realm from the fires that rage on the horizon?

You don’t know, but as you drift toward sleep, you find yourself clinging to the fragile hope that perhaps, just perhaps, it might.

[crappymixtape]

baby let me in

REQUEST → @thecreelhouse , SUMMER BLURB PARTY ❝ 🌘 because of you prompt – angsty in-between at steve’s house post-upside down –* steve drives you home after vecna and cleans you up, but who’s gonna help him? | ( 1.2k – TW: blood, wounds, etc // steve harrington x reader, lovesick and a lil fluffy )

B A B Y L E T M E I N 🎶 even if the world don’t understand you, aquilo

Everything was a little hazy around the edges, soft in the low light of Steve’s parents’ room, your bare figures swimming in navy shadows and slivers of gold from the lamp on the nightstand. In any other circumstance this would feel different, charged, skin to skin on the bed and close enough to see the steady rising and falling of Steve’s breaths, but it wasn’t.

It felt like something between grieving and falling onto your knees in relief. Felt like gasping for air after being under water too long. Like you’d both lost something out there in the Upside Down and were leading each other through the dark, finding and feeling your way together.

Bent low over a box of medical supplies, Steve sorted through band-aids and rubbing alcohol, gauze and thread and needles – a first aid kit for monsters. He’d just finished cleaning and covering up the last cut on your back, hands sure and steady as he taped you up before carefully tucking the antibiotic ointment back into place.

The rush of adrenaline was long gone now, exhaustion creeping in around the edges of the bed as you sat knee to knee and cross-legged next to each other on the duvet. Steve had given you an old, oversized Journey tee to wear, the hem dancing just above your knees, but was shirtless himself. Wearing only a pair of old basketball shorts that hung low on his hips and you couldn’t help letting your eyes trail lazily over him.

Damp hair stuck messy across his forehead, a mark to match yours squeezing around his neck, his jaw half-cast in shadow – so stoic, so calm. His lashes were a long sweep over his cheek bones, gaze low in his lap, his lips twisted in concentration.

Pretty. So pretty. Even like this.

The muscles in his arm flexed as he spun the lid closed on the rubbing alcohol, his bare chest warm in the low light, like his skin held summer underneath it. You traced the bob of his Adam’s apple, the small tick of concentration in his jaw, soft slope of his shoulders, down, down, down, until your eyes caught on his shoulder blade.

Bright red.

An angry looking cut courtesy of a demobat or maybe the tangled vines that crept through the Creel house and it made your stomach knot with worry.

“Steve–” you started and it pulled his gaze up from his lap.

“Hm?” came out tired, but when he met your eyes and saw the furrow of your brow his own pinched together. “Oh–what is it? Your bandage?”

“No. It’s your shoulder blade,” you said softly, hand lifting to ghost over his back before pulling it back quickly.

He suddenly glanced away, nerves buzzing under his skin and shrugged it off, too casual for how bad it looked, “Oh, I’m okay.”

“Steve, it’s bleeding–”

“I’ll get it after I finish your stitches. Done it plenty of times.”

“But how can you reach–”

“Ah, I just turn around in the mirror and patch it up, it’s really no big deal. Don’t worry about me, Princess. I’ve had worse, it’s not impor–”

You grabbed his hand in yours, stopped him from digging out anymore supplies and he froze, the feeling of his fingers flexing against your palm making your heart stutter in your chest.

“Not important?” you finished his sentence for him, shaking your head, “Yes it is.”

Steve cleared his throat and tried to go back to finding a needle and thread, but you stopped him again and he listened this time.

“Let me help you…please?” you asked, meeting his gaze and his expression melted – soft, defeated.

“I just–it’s–it’s my job to take care of people, I gotta put them first because if I don't who's gonna make sure they're–”

“Steve,” you squeezed his hand, “It’s okay.”

And taking the box from him you let go of his hand and slowly moved around behind him, careful of your thigh, making sure to not bump the tape and gauze he'd pressed to it. Your eyes didn’t leave him, watching how his shoulders tensed, his pulse fluttering against his neck, the way he squeezed his eyes shut and tongue jammed into his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you said again and he nodded, eyes still closed.

“Okay,” he murmured.

Pulling a cotton ball from the supply box you uncapped the alcohol and wetted it, still watching. “This is probably gonna hurt,” you warned, eyes catching the way his hands balled into fists as he nodded quietly. Just get it over with. And when you pressed the cotton to his skin he sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, a low rumble groaning in his chest.

“Sorry,” you worried, but he looped his hand around his back and pushed it to your waist.

“I’m alright, keep going,” he said, eyes still squeezed shut.

And so you cleaned it, slow, easy, gentle, as he winced and tensed and groaned, gripped your waist like a life line as you washed the blood from his back, red turning pink until you could see the cut clearly.

It wasn’t as bad underneath it all and when you placed the last piece of tape over the corner of gauze you let your hand linger on his back, your fingers resting on the ridge of his shoulder blade.

“Thanks,” he murmured, finally turning on the bed to face you.

A tiny smile flickered at the corner of your lips, but it faded the longer you looked at him. “Why don’t you think you’re important too?” fell out before you could bite it back and your cheeks warmed when his eyes widened.

“Well, I guess I just…I’m the oldest and those kids need me and as long as they’re safe then…” he drifted off at the end, hand moving to rub at the back of his neck and you took his hand again.

“Who’s making sure you’re safe?”

And it quickly pulled his eyes back up to meet yours. Warm honey and burnt caramel, a muddied mixture of surprise and bewilderment and deep gratitude.

“I…” he started, but couldn’t finish and you reached up to tuck a lock of hair out of his face.

“You’re important too, Steve,” you said softly.

And your words struck him heavy, his throat squeezing around everything he wanted to say to you, blinking rapidly against the stinging in the corners of his eyes. He tried to will it away but knew it was no use and closed them tight, tears slipping between his lashes and down his cheeks.

“Okay,” he said, voice thick as he let you pull him close to settle into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping wide and warm around your waist.

And you sat like that there in the dark of the room, in the strange little bubble you’d created for yourselves out of vulnerability and trust, peeling back your layers and letting each other in. Seeing each other for the first time. Learning each other for who you really were.

A new start. A fresh start.

I’ll make sure you’re safe.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Congratulations in 5K, wow that's amazing and I'm so happy for you!

Could you please write a Graves drabble (he doesn't get enough love) where he's just so absolutely in love with his SO? Like standing back, leaning against a door frame, and watching his partner do something as mundane as the dishes or drawing? Him softly smiling as his SO hums or does something subconsciously??

I love your writing. Thank you for being my comfort writer.

—Love Echoes In Silence

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

You dip your soapy hands back into the water, grabbing another plate before moving it over to the side to rinse its white porcelain face—finally setting it down in the plastic dish rack. Shifting back over, you hum under your breath and grab another, snatching up the washing rag as well to get rid of any residual germs. 

You’d only been at this for about ten minutes; the dishes from last night were left for this morning on account of Phillip coming home early. You’d both had a soft supper with a few glasses of red wine before retiring to bed, where the man was still asleep in the ruffled sheets as his bare skin lay in the rising sunlight; his stomach to the mattress and his hair sticking this way and that. It had been a chore to sneak out from under his arm, but you’d done it nonetheless even if it had taken a few minutes. One delicate kiss to Phillip’s forehead later, you’d slipped into his large t-shirt and padded to the kitchen. 

So, here you are, cleaning up with a smile on your lips and sleepy heat under Phillip’s shirt. A slow hum echoing through the air. 

Another dish is added to the clean pile, and as you grasp one of the dirty wine glasses, you miss the small creak of the floor leading to the kitchen as you listen to the birds outside. 

Phillip rubs at his face with the palm of his hand, yawning slowly before he pushes back his hair and watches. He’s only in his sweatpants—the gray color bunched as the un-tied waistband hangs at his hips. Blinking at you, a slow twitch goes across the man’s lips as he leans to the side, his shoulder to the door frame. 

He doesn’t speak—doesn’t utter anything as his arms cross over his chest and you continue your shapeless tune. Phillip isn’t a good man; he isn’t worthy of care or compassion. He’s done things that will follow him to his grave, the one he’d been digging himself since long before he met you. But there were moments like these where the light hit your body just right; where the house was silent and the floors were soft underfoot. 

Tiny moments that echoed like a call to home. 

You place the wine glass upside down to let the water drip out, wringing out the wash rag and unplugging the sink. You’d only begun washing your hands when your ears twitch to movement. A smile peels your lips.

“Mornin’,” Phillip mutters into your hair, hands sneaking around you until you’re held back to a bare chest. 

“Good morning,” you whisper, flicking off the water on your fingers. Your heart is light. “Sleep well?” 

He hums, squeezing you gently. 

“Come back t’bed.” Your chuckle makes him smile, eyes crinkling. 

“Phillip, I just got up.”

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” he pleads but doesn’t give you time to respond, arms bending to capture your legs and the span of your shoulders. You laugh as he hikes you into his hold—carrying you before your arms snap around his neck; curling into him. “Up ya get.”

“Really?” Your amused voice makes him look at you, raising one of his pale blows as he smirks softly. He brings you back to bed, tendrils of hair bouncing along the way. 

“Up and disappeared. You always leave the men with cold sheets and a yearnin’ in their hearts?” You roll your eyes, giggling into his neck. “You’ll be stickin’ right beside me today, Doll. That’s an order.”

All you do is kiss the corner of his mouth before he drops you both back onto the mattress.

[werepuppy-steve]

Between discovering the Russian bunker under Starcourt, discovering their plans to get into the Upside Down, being caught by said Russians and tortured, after making sure Dustin and Erica got out of there, Steve was confident that this was an isolated incident.

Hopper had assured them that El had closed the gate at Hawkins Lab, saw it with his own eyes. So maybe if they (he, Robin, Dustin, and Erica) dealt with this one on their own, it wouldn’t be so bad. There were no monsters this time, at least.

Steve had naive hope that the others wouldn’t have to get involved.

But as the four of them are chased through the mall by a big guy with a gun, Steve and Robin still coming down from a truth serum high, his hope turns into dread.

Because a show car is suddenly flung from the floor and into the group of Russians that have them cornered behind a counter in the food court, and there’s only one person he knows with the ability to do that.

They all slowly peer over the counter, and sure enough, El is standing at the forefront, her hand extended in front of her and her nose bleeding. The other kids plus Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie are with her. Steve’s stomach drops and the nauseating feeling from earlier is back, but it’s not from the drugs this time.

Eddie makes a beeline toward him and Robin while Dustin greets the others with enthusiasm, Erica a little starstruck over El.

“What the hell happened?” Eddie demands, eyes flitting frantically all over Steve’s face and taking in the worst of the damage. Steve knows he must look like shit– he can’t see that great out of his left eye and that whole side of his face has gone numb.

Billy bashing his face in last year has nothing on the pain he’s feeling now.

“It’s a long story,” Steve says as he leans heavily into Eddie’s space. Eddie’s hands land on his shoulders and he holds him gently, like he’s afraid of hurting him even more. “I’ll tell you after this is all over.”

“Steve–”

“Teddy.” Steve pulls back and looks him in the eye, as well as he can. He must have not puked everything out of his system like Robin thought because he still feels a little giddy when he reaches up and taps Eddie on the nose. “Later. I promise.”

There’s really no time to say anything else because Robin and Erica need to be brought up to speed about everything and he and Dustin need to be caught up on what’s happening now, and when they are, Steve desperately wishes that it was just the Russians they had to deal with.

Help comes in the form of Hopper, Ms. Byers, and a balding man that Steve’s never met. While they’re all squabbling and trying to come up with a half baked plan, Eddie finds a first aid kit in one of the kitchens and makes Steve sit on a counter so he can try to patch him up. They don’t speak, but Steve grips Eddie’s unoccupied hand while Eddie stands close between his legs.

There isn’t much time between then and everybody splitting off into groups. Scoops Troop plus Eddie all pile into the TODFTHR (“You sure you’re her daddy, sweetheart?” Eddie teases with a smirk and Steve’s glad the bruising hides his blush.)

Everything gets a little fuzzy after they leave the kids at Weathertop. When he’s asked later, he’ll say he remembers hearing that song from that one movie, but he’s not sure if it actually happened. He’s so hyped up on adrenaline, it’s probably the only thing keeping him conscious.

Steve doesn’t remember making the decision to t-bone Billy’s car, but he does remember the horrific scene inside the mall; the Mindflayer screeching and its tentacle-like appendages swinging this way and that. He remembers pelting it with explosives to distract it from attacking El. He looks down and his stomach lurches when he sees the monster go straight through Billy’s chest.

He hears Eddie let out a strangled curse beside him and Steve has to ignore the bile rising in his throat. He knows there’s been casualties; Barb in ‘83, Ms. Byers’ boyfriend last year, however many people the Mindflayer had killed this year.

This is the first death he’s ever seen in person.

He’s still reeling from it when Owens and the military swarm the building once the monster is finally defeated. They’re all pulled in separate directions for medical attention and questioning. Steve feels downright miserable, sitting in the back of an ambulance with Robin, a shock blanket over his shoulders. He squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” he says.

Robin takes a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of it. I think for once in my life, I’m speechless.”

Eddie finds them after he’s been looked over and Steve opens his arms to pull him in for a hug, wrapping both of them in the blanket. Eddie presses a kiss to his forehead and Steve sags against him. They take a moment to breathe each other in, basking in the fact that they’re both alive.

“They want to take us to the hospital,” Steve says. “They’re pretty sure I have a concussion but they want to run tests to make sure there isn’t any other damage.” He nods to Robin. “And they wanna keep us under 24 hour observation 'cause of the drugs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, eyes sliding shut.

Steve frowns and uses the corner of the blanket to brush against Eddie’s cheek comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a grimace. “This probably wasn’t how you were expecting to spend your birthday.”

Eddie turns his head and kisses his fingers. “No, baby,” he says. “Absolutely nothin’ for you to be sorry about. Had me and Wayne worried sick when you didn’t come home last night, though. I was close to callin’ Hopper when Lucas started screaming code red over the radio.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about how that probably worried them even more. “Your present’s in my car,” he says instead. “You can’t have it until I’m discharged, though. I wanna see your face when you open it.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “That just makes me even more curious, sweetheart.”

He pinches Steve’s side playfully, but gently. Steve stifles a giggle and leans into him more, very aware of how Robin’s watching them like a hawk.

“No peeking,” Steve warns, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face. “It’s a surprise.”

Eddie only nips at his finger. Steve doesn’t even blink. Sighing, Eddie releases his finger and marks a cross over his heart. “I promise I won’t do any snooping.”

Steve pats his cheek. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a shit liar, Munson?”

They break into giggles, their heads bent forward, and Eddie would’ve leaned in for a kiss if it weren’t for Robin clearing her throat rather loudly. Steve curls into Eddie’s front, Eddie’s arm going around his shoulders. God, he’d give anything to be at home and asleep in their bed.

“I’m still very confused about this whole thing,” Robin says, waving a hand in their direction. “I just fought a monster from a whole other dimension, but this is probably the biggest shocker of my life.”

“Strange things follow this group around like a shadow,” Eddie says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. And for him, it is. “You better get used to it, Buckley, 'cause you’re one of us now.”

written and originally posted for @flowercrowngods birthday 🤍 dio is an absolute treasure and a great friend to have and is my #1 gseb stan. happy belated birthday!!! 💙

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

[darksigns-exe]

Together: Noah Sebastian

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader Warning: Swearing, mutual masturbation (fingering (f recieving), handsjobs (m recieving) Word Count: 2.2k Note: Welcome to part 2 of this little series with @malice-ov-mercy @deathblacksmoke and @circle-with-me <3

Read the rest here: Folio Ruffilo Jolly

Summer has really settled in as skin sticks to skin, and you swear that you’ve never felt warmer in your life. It’s been blazing hot for most of the week, and thankfully you’ve been able to spent most of that time with your feet dangling in the pleasantly warm water of a pool. One of the many upsides that comes with having a decently famous rock star of a boyfriend. 

You’re in the fortunate position that you can do most of your work from home, meaning that you’ve been answering emails from your lounge chair. Noah has been in and out of the house, frantically preparing for their next release. You know that he’s been hard at work with it, pouring most of his hours into it, just so everything is perfect. You admire his work ethic, but you can tell that he’s starting to wear thin. The boy needs a break, but he hardly listens to you when it comes to that. 

He knows his limits, you tell yourself. 

All in the hopes that he actually does. 

Your attention is caught by the sound of his voice in the living room behind you. A quick look over your shoulder tells you that he’s in the middle of a phone call. He looks awfully bored with it and when he finds you look at him an idea pops into your head. 

You place your laptop down behind yourself, before you assemble a quick plan. Noah is, at his core, still a guy, and a predictable one at that. It doesn't take a lot to get his attention. He’ll be easy prey with how bored he looks pacing around your living room.

With your plan assembled, you get up from your lounge chair. The oversized t-shirt that you’d plucked from your closet that morning barely reaches the top of your thigh, and really that makes it perfect for what you have in mind. You slip through the opening in the sliding door without him noticing. His back is still turned towards you when you close it as quietly as you can. 

Noah flashes you a quick smile when he finally notices you. You wave your fingers at him, head cocked to the side as you watch him. His reply to the person on the other end of the line rushes past your head as you trace your fingers up the tops of your thighs. His eyes follow the ascent of your fingers. You can tell that Noah has long stopped listening to whoever is on the other end of the line. 

Your fingers rise even higher, grazing across your tummy and the waist line of your bikini bottoms. His eyes flicker between yours and the skin your fingers dance across. His replies come slower, less focused. 

You decide that now is the right time to slip off the shirt. You wait until his focus is on your face before your fingers curl around the bottom hem. His breath catches in his throat when you begin to lift it as slowly as you can manage. He watches intently as your hand drifts up your now exposed tummy. 

You sigh when your fingers skim over a sensitive spot. Across from you, Noah mutters an answer, clearly distracted by what you’re doing in front of him. 

Finally, you pull the shirt over your head. The fabric drops to the ground next to you, and it feels as if a brick drops and shatters the tile beneath your feet. For a brief second, you feel insecure, but then the weight of his gaze settles on your mostly bare body and the feeling quickly fades away again. Seeing how you affect him always makes your confidence soar. 

“What? Sorry, I didn’t hear that.” you hear him rush out. 

His struggle brings a smile to your face. You feel awfully wicked teasing him like this, but you know that he’d easily play you in the same way if he’d have the chance. 

You trail your fingers across your chest, making a conscious effort to let them pass over your nipple. You reach behind your back, finding the tie of your bikini top. His chest rises and falls with laboured breaths and when you let your eyes drift lower your thought is confirmed. His shorts are already visibly tented, and that gives you the last bit of confidence you needed to let the top fall, too. 

“Fucking – hell.” Noah mutters below his breath. 

His hand presses against his crotch in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. Feeling fuelled by that, you pull the tie of your bottoms loose as well. Noah draws in a deep breath. His eyes darken, narrowing as he tries to keep his focus on the call. 

His focus wavers for a moment when you dip your fingers between your thighs. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. The touch of your finger pulls a sigh from your lips. You take your time with it, drawing slow circles across your clit. 

It feels a little forbidden to touch yourself while he is speaking to what you assume is a representative of the label. You know that he would have long ended the call if it wouldn’t be important. Noah slumps down the side of the sofa that is closest to him. You follow, sitting across from him, just out of his reach. It’s a little diabolical. 

You pull one leg up onto the cushions, giving him a perfect view of your body. He goes quiet when you trace a single finger across your slit. His hand returns to the tent in his shorts. This time it stays for longer. To amp up the stakes, you dip a finger between your lips, before bringing them back to your already soaked pussy. You don’t try to silence yourself, not when your little game is just starting to become fun. 

The slow, teasing circles around your clit make your skin heat up. It’s all so precarious, if he lets out one wrong noise, the person on the other end of the line will know what you’re up to. You know he won’t, you know that he can keep his composure if he has to. One hand comes up to cup your breast, fingers teasing across your nipple. The fingers of your other hand tip into your hole, and you have to fight against your instinct to close your eyes. You need to see everything. You need to see how you affect him. 

Noah’s hand gives a firm squeeze to his cock. The poor boy is suffering, but he’s nowhere near desperate enough for your taste yet. You watch as his hand dips behind the waist band of his shorts. He sighs, but quickly catches himself with a startled cough. 

“No– no, I’m fine.” he rushes out, “Wrong pipe.” 

 His obvious struggle makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a glare in response. You’re not as easy to affect as he is, though. This is your game, he’s just a pawn in it. 

A second finger joins the first, and you moan, entirely unashamed, at the stretch. The hand that is stuffed inside his shorts flexes as he returns his focus to the call for a moment. 

“Listen, I’m sorry something just came up. I’m going to have to call you back.” he struggles to keep an even, unaffected tone. It’s endearing. 

You’re sure that he ends the call before the other person has a chance to say goodbye. His cell drops to the cushion as he lets out a groan. 

“You’re evil.” he sighs, “The devil.” 

He remains still for a moment, before he begins to get up. You click your tongue at him, shaking your head. 

“Stay there.” 

Noah’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing with the realisation of what you have in mind for him. 

“Go on, you’re awfully overdressed.” 

You’re not entirely sure where this confidence comes from, but you’re glad that it’s here nevertheless. His shirt comes off before you’ve had the chance to register it. A moment later, he’s struggling out of his shorts and underwear, quiet swears breaking from his lips as the garments refuse to cooperate. 

His eyes fall shut as his hand closes around his aching cock. You can only imagine how good it must feel for him to finally get a little relief without having to hold back. 

“Touch yourself, honey.” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Despite the distance, you’ve rarely felt closer to him. It feels a little like the times you’ve gotten yourself off while on the phone, except that now you actually get to see what he looks like. This is a rare treat. 

Noah takes another deep breath, before his hand begins to move. It’s slow, and you can tell that he has a tight grip on himself. And with his eyes focused so intently on where your fingers curl inside your pussy, you like to think that he’s imagining himself buried there instead. His free hand grips into one of the cushions.  

You find yourself aching for more. But as much as you want to give in to the need and crawl over to him, you stay strong. Instead, you work a third finger into yourself. 

“That feel good?” he asks. 

His voice is so rough with it already, and his breath hitches when you nod. 

You have to slow yourself a little. A soft little noise breaks from you when your fingers find that spot. 

“So good.” you reply in a moan. 

His hand stops just below the head of his cock. It’s a tight clutch, and you know that he’s trying to keep his end at bay. 

Noah’s eyes find yours. God, he looks so worn down already. His brow is in a constant furrow, cheeks tinged pink as he bites down harshly on his bottom lip. 

You readjust your position, pushing yourself forward just a little more so that he can see even more of you. The noise that falls from him is not far from a whimper. 

“Baby please.” he sighs, “Can I — let me touch you?” 

He sounds so awfully desperate for you that you almost want to give in. Almost. He’s been so good for you up until now.

You stretch your leg to nudge your foot against is knee in an attempt to get him to shift. Noah understands what you want and moves his thighs just a little bit further apart. He thrusts up into his hand, the movement eased by the slick of the precum leaking from his tip. You can tell that he’s close. Another whine falls from him, a needy little sound that makes you want to call him over to you. You know that he’ll be between your thighs immediately if you’d ask him. He’d fall to his knees in front of you, face buried in your heat. 

The thought spurs you on, fingers moving faster now, pressing against your walls more intently. 

He keens, whines around the prayer of your name. The coil in your belly feels almost too tight now. Seeing him so close to falling apart sends your mind into overdrive. Your thumb presses against your clit and your walls tighten in response. 

“I’m – I’m not gonna last.” he whines, “Please, baby.” 

You need a moment to keep yourself together. 

“What do you need?” you choke the words out, barely able to keep up this cool façade.

His hips buck up into his fist, thighs shaking. He’s right on the edge now. 

“Need you closer. You’re so far away.” 

You can’t deny him that, not when you’re so desperate to feel his skin against yours. In the blink of an eye, you’re kneeling on the cushion next to him. You grip into his bare shoulder with one hand, trying to keep yourself upright as you return your fingers to where they had been before. You can’t stop the moan that falls from your lips when your fingers settle inside of you. Noah’s hand finds your waist in an almost too tight grip. 

It won’t take either of you long now. You try your best to match his tempo. It’s a slow grind, barely moving with the overwhelming sensation of it all. His hand quickly migrates from your waist up to the side of your face so that he can pull you in for a kiss. He whines against your lips. The hand behind your head keeps you close against him. His breath catches, body freezing up entirely. You don’t have to check to know that he’s spilling across his hand and belly. 

Your own release hits you a moment later. Your body collapses against his as you both work yourselves through your orgasms. Your fingers curl against yourself until it suddenly becomes too much. 

Noah lets out a deep breath, before he kisses you again. 

You’re silent for a long moment, the only sound that fills your living room is the laboured breathing that falls from both of you. You shift, finding a slightly more comfortable position against Noah’s side. His body is so warm. He’s slicked with sweat, and you swear that he’s never been more beautiful. 

“Good?” you finally ask. 

He huffs out a laugh, “More than good.” 

“Shower?” 

He pulls away a little, so that he can look at you properly, “We’re not finished here yet, baby. I still want to get between those pretty thighs.”