#I also may have to smoke weed again for the first time in years and rewatch during the process | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fruittt-punchhh · 4 months ago

Text

sativa

Synopsis: little one shot based off of this ask, so idc to make this fancy: you and Toji smoke a lot of weed and fuck. enjoy💋

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x you.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, stoner! Toji, stoner! reader, having sex while high, big dick! Toji, rough sex, suggestiveness, cursing, breeding, dick suckin/pussy eatin, just filthy, unashamed Toji smut. I love that man.

Word Count: 5.6k-ish

Notes: ily and anon was the smartest for this idea. sorry if this is lame but being the stoner I am I couldn’t resist. I’m also bad at endings but it’s fine you’re the best byeeeee😈🥹🫶

You have all of thirty minutes to get ready for the party. Your mascara is dried out, hair totally untouched, and you still couldn’t decide on what outfit to wear.

You weren’t too concerned, but you want to look presentable. It was some random block party, but it was 4/20, so the theme was ‘Mary Jane’ of course. And if you were going to do anything, it’d be dressing appropriately for the occasion. You also know that every time you get high you love taking pictures of yourself and your friends, and you always felt a little better with your face beat and your hair laid.

Speaking of laid, it’s been a minute. Not for any particular reason other than no one has caught your eye recently. But maybe tonight could be your lucky night.

You settle on a green mesh top, a short skirt to go along with it, and some black platform boots to finish it off. You accessorize with your favorite green and gold jewelry, making sure to grab your ring with the big leaf emblem on it. You took a look at your ‘420’ sunglasses, noting how similar they look to New Year’s Eve glasses. Cringing yourself out from the amount of ‘hey I smoke weed!’ energy you’re giving off, you decide to leave the glasses home.

This was the first time in a while you’ve been to a party where you didn’t know anyone there. The front door opens as a couple walks out, and smoke literally billows from the living room. You scoot past them, as well as a large burly man who you assume is security, to get to the kitchen.

You had brought your own weed of course, but you were intent on sharing with others. There were plenty of supplies in the kitchen so you start to roll a few blunts before bringing them to the living room.

Sure, you’ve seen some of these faces around. But you were awful with names and may have snuck in a little gummy edible before the Uber arrived, so socializing has lost it’s sparkle.

You immediately light up, wanting to join the rest of the guests in their euphoria. There was loud music playing, plenty of laughter and talking, and you felt content in your own world.

You pass the blunt to the girl nearest you, and spark up again, wanting to start a rotation.

You’re lost in your phone as you wait for the blunt to come back your way. You look to the man to your left, and notice he’s hogging it. You’re much too chicken to say something, so you decide to let it pass. He was probably just too high and forgot he was holding it.

You continue scrolling, anticipating a lazy bump of your shoulder so you can steal back your blunt. Until a large, looming figure waltzes its way in between you and the blunt stealer.

“Think you’ve had enough, huh? Why don’t you give it back to the lady?” He says as he has a seat next to you, taking the blunt out of the man’s hands. He had it for so long, it wasn’t even burning anymore. You appreciate the gesture and put the blunt between your lips, cursing a muffled ‘dammit’ after you realize your lighter is lost in the abyss. Either that or someone stole it.

Until the man beside you pulls a standard, black bic out of his tight jean pocket. His large hands engulf the lighter as he flicks the spark wheel, bringing the flame closer to your face so you can relight.

You pull a deep puff in, uttering a thank you before you pass it back to him. It’s only right he has some since he saved such a damsel in distress.

You had unknowingly been avoiding eye contact with him; it was a habit of yours when you smoked. After passing the blunt to him, you have a realization.

“I thought you were security,” you blurt out, immediately laughing at the word vomit you were trying to keep to yourself.

“Security?”

God, does he look good.

“Yeah, uh, w-when I came in you were posted up at the door like someone paid you to keep watch. L-Like a big guard dog,” you say, fumbling over your own words like you were paid to.

“You’re funny,” he admits, not knowing what else to say. He passes you back the blunt for the second time, to which you take happily.

God, do you look good.

“Uh, my names Toji by the way.”

“Oh, nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

You watch his eyes trail your body. You can’t help when you do the same. He was intoxicating to look at. He was so tall, had such a large frame, and looked like he could kill you so quickly. Which as much as you hate admitting, was something you liked in men. He had dark hair and a little scar on his lip.

“Watchya’ staring for, hun?”

You turn to pass the blunt to the girl next to you again, hoping he didn’t notice the redness in your cheeks.

“You were starin’ first,” you say, and he can’t help but agree.

“It’s hard not to.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes a moment before responding, giving you another chance to examine him. Your eyes meet his, and you are the first to break eye contact, not being able to stand your ground under his stare.

“You look really fuckin’ good,” he says with the upmost confidence, before he leaves to go to the kitchen. Giving you no time to respond.

He’s back shortly after with two fresh blunts. Instead of taking his seat again, he leans over the back of the couch, pressing his cheek to your hair before he tells you to ‘come smoke with me upstairs’. His voice so close to your ear, so low and so quiet, scared you. But you were truthfully desperate for dick, and he looked like he knew how to give it. Even if it didn’t go that far, the living room was getting far too loud anyways.

You follow suit, standing up from the couch with an ‘okay’ before he beckons you upstairs. The crowd is thicker now, and you have no clue where the upstairs are. You look back at him, signaling you are totally lost in this dank, dark house. He puts a hand on your waist to help guide you and you swear his fingers dug into your hip intentionally. He lets out a rough ‘move’ to some couple in front of you two blocking the stairs.

He finds an empty bedroom upstairs.

“Owner doesn’t care if we smoke in here, it’s some guest bedroom.”

What a hell of a guest bedroom, you think. The room is fully furnished including a couch, a tv, gaming equipment, and there’s an attached bathroom. This shit was better than your own room back home.

Toji leads you to the couch where he pats the spot beside him, motioning for you to join him. He already has one blunt affixed between his soft lips, giving you the other once you sit down.

He instinctively puts his arm around you, but leaves it there once he notices you don’t mind whatsoever.

“Sorry, just got too loud down there,” he admits before lighting his blunt.

You reach for the lighter, but he grabs your hand out of the air. He turns your face to his, cupping your jaw with his other hand. He brings his face closer to yours, sticking the end of his blunt to the tip of yours, waiting for you to pull to light your own.

God, did he look really fucking good.

You mutter another ‘thanks’ taking a deep inhale as you had so many times that night. You can’t help but focus your eyes anywhere other than his face, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

“You’re starin’ again, doll.”

“Can’t help it,” you admit sheepishly, “you look.. really good.”

“Is that so?” He says with a smirk, trying his hardest not to love watching you squirm.

You nod, to which he responds, “use your words, y/n,” and you think you could faint.

Surely you weren’t wrong in assuming he wanted you too, right? At this point you were high enough that the potential backfire of your next question was no where near present in your mind.

“Can you fuck me?”

He coughs, accidentally blowing a puff of smoke straight in your face. You must have taken him by surprise.

His answer to your question comes non-verbally, as he grabs your plush thighs to situate you on top of him. You can already feel how much he wants this through his pants. You gasp, taken aback by his forwardness.

“Oh I can, doll, I really can. You think you can handle all that, though?” He asks, putting the blunt back in his mouth so he can grab your hips and pull you onto his length. The sudden stimulation to your clit leaves you reeling as you try not to throw your head back in ecstasy.

“I won’t know unless I see it,” faking how confident you were appearing. Your only motivator in putting on this mask is to get the release you need so desperately. You throw in a ‘please’ to stress how urgent this was.

“Gotta’ learn how to be patient, brat” he says with a light laugh, reaching out his hand to take your blunt for the moment. He finds a nearby ashtray to sit them on for the time being.

He wastes no time pulling you into a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue in his attempt to devour you. You lean into the kiss, meeting your chest with his as you slowly roll your hips down onto his length. He grunts into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth harshly.

He pulls away only to yank your shirt over you, his hands flying to cup your tits the second they’re free. He unlatches the clasp at the back of your bra while he trails sloppy kisses along your clavicle.

You can’t help but moan with every touch, each kiss, every roll of your hips. It had been so long since you’ve been touched like this and his ways with you were electrifying. Each touch left you wanting more and the lazy, rough rolling of your hips left his cock angry and weeping at the tip.

His lips latch to your nipple and suck, biting ever so slightly. You arch into him and he follows your movements, leaning back into the couch so you can really be on top of him, properly. He reached behind his head and grabs one of the blunts, praising god that it was still lit.

You were surprised that he wanted to continue smoking, and your movements stilled slightly.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” He asks, taking a brief inhale of the smoke and purposefully blowing it in your face. Shocked at his bravado, you continue the movements of your hips, already feeling close from the rough stimulation. But you can’t quite get there.

You place your hands underneath his shirt, running your cold hands up his taught stomach to his chest. Your right hand trails up to his nipple, and you can’t help but grab a handful of his tit, laughing as you do so. You expect him to get mad and maybe even call the whole thing off.

Instead, he laughs along with you to cover up a moan, passes you the blunt, and pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his already disheveled hair.

“You gonna’ strip for me, pretty boy?” You ask, genuinely needing to feel him closer.

He laughs again, and you can tell the weed is hitting him hard. But you were right there with him, you think, puffing on the blunt for the nth time that night.

“Only if you do, brat,” he says before he’s already reaching to take off his belt. He pushes you back some, needing room to get those tight fucking pants off. Your eyes are glued to his pelvis, waiting to watch his cock spring free.

He leaves you hanging, only pulling his pants down slightly before he’s telling you to ‘get up’. You follow suit, trying your best to take your skirt off slowly in front of him. He pulls his pants fully off and is left splayed on the couch in nothing but his tight, black briefs, neck and chest all red and splotchy. Laid out like your own personal slut.

It takes everything in him not to make you ride his face then and there, but he wanted to watch you cum all on your own.

“The fuck are you waitin’ for?” He asks, noticing how lost in thought you were. He brings you back to reality with his sharp words and motions for you to take your seat back on his lap.

He mutters a ‘gimme’ that’ before he steals the blunt from you again.

He takes a puff, “make a mess on me, yeah?” and you can’t help but comply. You fully seat yourself back in his lap, nothing between you two but the thin fabric of your thong and his briefs. Having his thick jeans out of the way let you fully feel how hard, how big he was underneath you. You could feel a wet patch at the tip and you were so eager to get your mouth on him.

You pick up the pace as he ruts his hips up into yours, hard cock pressing over and over again into your clit. You were already so close before, and the lack of fabric was dizzying.

“T-Think I’m gonna’ cum, T-Toji,” you pant, handing him back the blunt so you can brace yourself on his muscular stomach. He’s moaning fully now, waiting to watch you come undone. He sticks the blunt between his teeth quickly before he grabs your thick, plush hips and pulls you into him at a merciless pace.

“Do it then, bitch,” and with that, you were finished. You feel your legs tremble and attempt to close as you release all you have on the man before you. Your movements attempt to still, but he keeps up his brutal pace, not allowing you a moment without stimulation.

“T-Toji, s’too much, p-please,” you beg, pulling away from him so you could have a break from the overstimulation.

He mocks you, “awww, poor baby can’t handle it, huh? Why don’t we give you a break then?” He asks and you hope this means what you think he’s implying. He pushes you off of him fully and seats himself with his back to the couch again. He looks down at his briefs, noting the wet spot you left.

“Coulda’ done better, I think,” he says before he leans back and puts one hand behind his head, obviously waiting for you. He still holds the blunt tightly in between his lips, and he looks so fucking perfect like that. Waiting for you to do your worst.

You get off the couch, dropping to your knees in between his long legs. You reach your manicured hands up to his shaft, palming him through his briefs. He stiffens as do you, as you try not to freak out at how big he felt already.

“Take ‘em off, brat,” he lets out, almost sounding… desperate?

“You sound like such a slut, ya’ know?” You say, unaware of the consequences this would have for you soon enough.

“Fuck you,” he spits before taking it upon himself to fully undress.

Your eyes widen, “Jesus Christ,” and he can’t help but laugh.

“I get that a lot,” he says, which you note sounds awfully close to something a slut would say. But you hold your tongue, for now.

He was so perfect. His dick was long, thick, and veiny. His balls were heavy and relaxed, and his cherry red tip was spilling precum. You were desperate for a taste.

You grab him at the base, diving in headfirst as you take his tip fully in your mouth and suck, hard. He grunts above you as he puffs on the blunt again.

You had no want to draw out this process longer than it already had been, so you start working your hand up and down his shaft, inching your head lower and lower.

The quickness of your movements left Toji in a state of shock as he tried his best to stifle his noises. He didn’t expect you to start fully giving him one of the best blowjobs he’s ever received, figuring you’d be too timid to reach halfway down the shaft by the time it was all over.

But here you were, nose buried in the black hair decorating his pelvis, swallowing around him like you were paid to.

Needing air, you pull off with a loud pop before asking him a question.

“What’s the matter? I can see you trying to keep quiet, ya’ know.”

He laughs, again.

“Sluts whine when they get their dick sucked by a pretty girl. But I’m not a sl- fuck,” he whines, not expecting you to continue so soon after you asked.

You were taking him almost fully now, in and out of your throat, relishing in the salty, bitter taste of his precum. He was leaking profusely, so unbelievably turned on by the sight of you taking him like a pro.

Managing to get some noise out of him only motivated you further as you now work both hands up and down his shaft, taking what you couldn’t cover with your hands in and out of your wet heat.

“Don’t chicken out now, doll. You wanna make me act like a slut, you’ve gotta.. fuck- earn it.” He says as he grabs a fistful of your hair, standing to his feet and it takes all you have to keep your balance.

Immediately, he’s thrusting in and out of your throat mercilessly. The sounds filling the room were so indecent and filthy. He still has the blunt glued to his lips, not even taking a hand up to remove it as he fucks your throat.

He’s using you like a toy, controlling your every movement as you take him deeper.

“Who’s the slut now?” He asks, muffled only slightly by the blunt. He must have done this before, you think.

He pulls you off of him harshly, bending down to see you nearly eye to eye.

“Didn’t I ask you a fuckin’ question?”

You nod, not realizing the mistake you just made. He grabs your face roughly, slapping your cheek with his other hand lightly, although with his strength it felt nothing of the sort. But you weren’t mad about it.

“And what the fuck -,” he starts, grabbing himself at his base, forcing his way back into your wet mouth, “- did I say about using your words?”

His eyes are glued to you, watching your eyes water as he tries not to come apart entirely after hearing you choke around him.

“Imma’ ask again. Who’s the slut?”

You attempt your best to answer with a muffled, unintelligible ‘me’.

“That’s- shit -what I fuckin’ thought,” he says, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer if he kept using you like this.

You grab his thighs, bracing yourself before you start to actively move with Toji, meeting his pelvis with your nose with each thrust. You try your best to hollow out your cheeks, wanting to hear some more of those little noises he wouldn’t dare let slip.

“God..dammit, woman,” he huffs, pulling you off of him regrettably, “gonna make me cum.”

He grabs you tightly by the arm, bringing you to your feet as he pulls the blunt from his mouth, kissing you once more before he takes care of you. Your mouth was so sloppy and wet from the abuse and he truly couldn’t give less of a fuck. All you could taste from his mouth was smoke.

His blunt was nearly finished now, so he snuffs it out in the ashtray before he commands you to lay back down on the couch. He grabs the other, fresher blunt, and relights it, handing it over to you.

“We gonna’ smoke the whole time we’re doing this?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Don’t see why not. Can’t let good weed go to waste,” he says before he’s towering over you, planting wet kisses on your stomach and waistband. You still don’t know if you were even ready to cum again, but it seems like you have no choice.

He lands a particularly sloppy kiss on your mound, tasting you through your panties as your hips impulsively buck into his mouth.

“Be patient, doll,” he reprimands.

He crooks one finger underneath your panties, opting to push them to the side instead of pulling them off fully, which he felt was quite fitting for a slut such as yourself.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy, ya’ know that?” he says, leaving you no time to respond before his lips connect with you, wet tongue exploring every inch he can reach.

You whine, bucking your hips up into him again. He takes one hand to hold both of your hips down, ensuring you can’t squirm anymore.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, doll,” he mutters quickly, not wanting to waste any more time not latched to your sweet pussy.

He begins to suck on your clit, earning a loud whine from you. You feel a protrusion at your hole as he slowly enters two fingers into you. The stretch burns, but the feeling was quickly replaced with pleasure when he immediately curls his fingers up into your spot. You wouldn’t last long at this rate.

“Y-You’re realllyyy.. good, fuck,” you manage, to which he responds with a long, drawn out ‘mhmm,’ knowing the vibrations would drive you mad. He’s now bobbing his head, fully lost in your sex as he brings you closer to your second orgasm. He’s fully thrusting into you, preparing you for the stretch his dick will bring. The blunt was nearly forgotten at this point, hanging over the back of the couch along with both your hands. You were lost in the ecstasy of the moment until he takes his hand and pushes down on your lower stomach, increasing the sensation of his fingers deep within you.

He pulls off of you for just a moment to say, “gonna feel me all in here, aren’t ya’?” He inserts a third finger and curls that one all the same as the rest, sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue as you chant whines of ‘Toji, Toji, Toji’. With one final thrust, you’re releasing onto his fingers, attempting to clamp your legs shut to no avail.

“Uh-uh, pretty girl. Hah, gotta’ clean you up first,” he says as he pulls out all three fingers, replacing them with his tongue. You catch him reaching down to his length, fisting his angry, red tip in his hand as he finishes the job. He did as he promised, lapping up every last drop of your cum like the filthy dog he was, all the while groaning into your pussy. He finishes cleaning you dutifully, opting to leave your panties on, telling you how good they looked on you.

You take another drag and ask, “you want this back?” reaching out to him to hand over the blunt. He grabs it quickly after he wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand, and through the smoke and haze, you think you see him lick his palm clean, just like he did you. What a slut.

“Turn over f’me, baby,” he asks, not giving you time to respond before he’s manhandling you on the couch, flipping you over as he pulls your ass impossibly high into the air. He pushes your panties to the side, rubbing his cock over your puffy pussy as you try not to pull away from how sensitive you still were.

“Let’s see juuuust how deep I can go, yeah?” He says before he’s pushing his fat head into you without warning. You let out a loud ‘fuuuck’ as he enters you slowly from behind. His lips are sealed, still trying desperately to keep his pitiful noises to himself. He takes a drag of the blunt before he puts it in between his pointer and middle finger. He needs his hands free so he can spread you open, loving how your tight hole swallows him entirely.

“Look-,” he slowly thrusts into you, covering half of his cock in your slick.

He pulls entirely out, “-at-,”

Then back in again, “-that,” he finishes, before continuing his painfully slow pace. Although he’d never admit it, he had to keep himself from cumming too early. Having you at his will, totally spread for him, taking his dick so well was becoming too much for him.

He picks up speed, still not entering you fully. The blunt is replaced between his lips yet again as he grabs your waist, slamming you down onto his cock over and over again.

“T-Toji, more, p-please,” you manage, needing to feel him entirely.

He continues his pace, much to your dismay. “You’re gonna’ take what I give ya’ and you’re gonna shut the fuck up about it,” he says, enunciating his words with each thrust.

Taking matters into your own hands, you start meeting his thrusts, desperately trying to make him move faster. Fortunately for you, he likes watching you put on a show.

You whine as he stops thrusting, looking back to see him staying still on purpose, taking a long drag from the blunt and ashing it on the floor beside him while he waits for you to continue.

“You wanna’ get fucked harder, mama? Prove it, hah,” he chuckles, slapping your ass while he waits for you to move. You comply, slamming your hips towards his, hard, knocking the wind out of both of you as he finally seats himself balls deep into your cunt. You continue your movements, pulling your hips up and almost entirely off of him, just to slam back all the way down.

“S’ fucking messy, baby, goddamn,” he pants, not knowing how much longer he can keep up the tough guy act while you’re brutally sucking him in and out of your snug cunt.

The pace you’re at now is bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night, but that won’t do. Toji pulls out of you fully, throwing you back down onto the couch so you can face him.

“Wanna’ see that pretty face when you cum, slut,” he adds, handing you the blunt again, “see if you can keep this in your mouth and I might let you cum again.”

You obey, sticking the blunt between your teeth as you wait to be fucked, properly this time. He rips off your ruined panties, discarding them onto the floor beneath you. He grabs both of your legs with one hand behind your knee, pushing them up close to your chest so he can marvel at how incredible you look, so wet and willing for him.

He lines himself up again, wasting no time to increase the pace he had set earlier. Your instinct was to take the blunt out of your mouth so you could moan freely, but the second he sees your hand move, they’re both pinned above your head.

“What’d I tell you, huh? Wanna cum or not?” He says as he gives you all of his inches, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he absolutely abuses your poor cunt.

You let out a muffled ‘mhmm!’, eyes wide and pleading for him to let you finish.

“Such a greedy..mmph - fuckin’ cunt, yeah? Bet you feel me in your tummy now d-don’t you, mama?”

And truth be told, you did. Every thrust he was pounding your cervix, desperate to break through to fit that last inch in fully. Toji was becoming more vocal, letting out huffs and groans each time he entered your warm, sloppy hole.

“I feel it now, baby, hah. Lil’ pussy’s boutta’ snap my dick in half,” and goddamn was he good. You were due to cum any second now, focusing solely on how sinfully he kept hitting your spot, over and over again.

“Cum for me, doll. Right fuckin’ now, cum on this dick,” and before he can finish, you’re spasming underneath him as you somehow manage to keep the blunt tightly between your teeth. Smoke is billowing from your nose and mouth now, and every breath you take brightens the cherry red end of your blunt.

“Thaaaat’s it, such a nasty slut f’me,” and you nod, knowing he’s read you all too well.

You hand him back the blunt and he finally puts it out in the ash tray, wanting to focus his sole attention on you.

“T-Toji?”

He grunts out a ‘hm?’ as he drags your hips impossibly close to him, tossing each of your legs over his shoulders.

“C-Can you give it to me, hard? P-Please, baby. Wanna feel all of you,” you admit before grabbing him by the neck, pulling him into another heated kiss.

“Ya’ sure? Dunno’ if you can handle all that, pretty girl,” and your answer comes in the form of action. You reach down in between your legs, rubbing yourself lightly before you bring it to his cock, rubbing his shaft with your juices. You line him up and try your best to pull him into you.

He smirks, leaning down to put his forearms on either side of your head, stretching your legs impossibly far.

“Please,” you mutter, scared he might fully break you, but the need to feel him as deep as you can take supersedes that.

“I might fuckin’ break you,” is the last thing he says before he’s thrusting fully into you, pushing against your cervix, and he starts at a pace that has you seeing stars. No more games, no more going easy on you. He was fully intent on fucking you within an inch of your life. He just had to make sure you could really take him before he started fucking you like the animal he was.

This is what really sends him. Losing all control, fucking you as he was made to: primally.

He starts grunting, then moaning, and then full on whining. With nearly every thrust, he was spewing obscenities or whining your name.

“Take - fuuuck, baby - take all those fuckin’… inches,” as if you weren’t already. He expects no response from you as you were practically drooling underneath him. You could form no coherent thoughts, no words, just noises. Sinful, filthy noises that made Toji feel drunk.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ deep f’me,” he spits, sweat daring to drip from his forehead, “such a good fuckin’ slut.”

You were so close although you weren’t sure if you could cum anymore that night. You kept teetering on the edge, begging to fall, but you couldn’t quite get there.

Until you’re finally able to come to your senses long enough to speak.

“I-I’m the.. slut?” You ask with a strained laugh, waiting to see just what he does with you now.

He laughs too, after he’s grabbed you by the throat, not forgetting to move his other hand down towards your clit.

“Can you f-fuckin’ blame me, doll?” He asks, somehow quickening the brutal snap of his hips.

You feel your core tighten, “You make me s-so pussy drunk, mama,” he confesses, too far deep to care if you thought he was a slut or not. He knew deep down he was nothing but a man whore. But he tried to keep that fact about himself under wraps. Everything about you, though, was bringing it all to the surface.

“Cum f’me, one more time, baby. ‘Know you can,” is all he can manage to say before he’s a grunting, sweaty mess above you. His fingers toy with your clit and his cock is hitting you too deep, filling your walls to the brim.

“Not gonna last, p-please fuckin cum, doll,” he begs, needing to watch you come apart up close and personal.

You feel the coil in your stomach snap and you reach around his back, digging your nails in the soft skin you find for leverage. You go mute, unable to process anything other than your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Your back is fully arched off of the couch, making your entrance even tighter, and Toji can’t take it. You grab him harshly, pulling him even closer to your face.

“Inside me, Toji,” you whisper and he fully loses it. His hips still before he spills his seed deep inside you, pitiful chants of your name the only thing he dare let leave his lips. He grabs the base of his cock, slowly stroking up to where he’s still buried in you before he pulls out, cursing at the overstimulation.

“Holy shit,” he sighs, standing to his feet to find a towel. He comes back from the bathroom, tossing you the towel so you can clean up.

As he lights up the rest of his measly blunt, he has but one more question to ask: “you hungry?”

hehehehehe

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gojos-thot-patrol · 2 years ago

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i DEFINITELY want more Frat Boy Sukuna!!! 😍😍😍😍

Oh man, you're twisting my arm so hard here nonnie, what ever will I do?

I guess I'm just going to have to post some headcanons and frame work I have for the up coming part 2 (Of which you can get on the tag list for it: here!) Oh! And if you want a refresher, you can find Seven Minuets in Heaven Here!

Now Presenting...

Some supplemental reading if you will ;)

Ok, lets start with just some basic information on our boy

Hes in the Alpha Beta Omega frat, or the ABO frat. The entire Frat is very quick to point out they’ve been around longer than ABO when you bring it up, minus Ryomen.

He just tells you he’s an Alpha and asks if you’re trying to be his Omega. It normally gets whatever reaction he wants

He’s majoring in business against his will (Remember this: It will come up) with a minor in he’s really about: History

If taking over his fathers very lucrative business (Again: This will come back up later) fails, he wants to be a history teacher.

He often bonds with Nanami over hating their shared major and being annoyed with Gojo and Geto making out in the most inconvenient places.

He sells drugs on the side to supplement his income, but nothing harder than weed because “Weeds not even a drug when you think about it.”

Is known for being the biggest manslut in the manslut frat. But hey, at least he gets tested regularly.

Ok, so now I want to start with a little bit of his background because it informs a lot about how I characterize him.

He’s Yuji’s older brother by about 4 years. Both of them look almost exactly like their father. The man really said Ctrl C, Ctrl V, Ctrl V.

Their father left when they were 7 and 3 respectively. Yuji doesn’t remember, but Ryomen very clearly remembers how horrible their father was to their mother. To him, it was a relief when that asshole finally abandoned the family for good.

The family moved in with their Grandpa, who was one of the very old school “I will only tell my kids I love them on my death bed” types. He also died when the boys were only 13 and 9.

Meaning our boy never really had a good role model for how to perform masculinity, and now that he’s an adult he finds himself pretending to be the type of man media told him he was supposed to be. Somewhere between Tyler Durden and Joey Tribbiani. He doesn’t think he’s very good at this performance.

The moment he turned 16, he started getting piercings to try and look less like his dad. The moment he turned 18 he got his tattoos to really separate himself from his father. Yuji thinks it’s insane, but Ryomen thinks it’s worth it to be able to look in the mirror without wanting to punch it.

His father reached out to him his senior year of high school. He offered to pay for 100% of Sukuna’s college tuition, as long as he majored in business and took over the “family” company once he graduated.

Yea, turns out dear old dads new wife couldn’t conceive, and his smoking had finally caught up with him in the form of lung cancer. Faced with an inevitable death, he was desperate for an heir.

Ryomen may have despised his father with everything in his being, but he realized how stupid it would be to throw away not only a free education, but also a guaranteed career. So he agreed.

OKAY now that that’s outta the way, let’s get into how he is in a relationship 😈

You are his first real relationship. He’s had “relationships” that lasted officially about 2 weeks at the longest. He’s had a plethora of situationships where he’d make promises he had no intention to keep. But as far as actually, serious, relationships you’re number one.

And genuinely this new emotion kinda scares the shit out of him. The first time he got love pangs he thought he was having a panic attack, the first time you brushed him off he felt like he shattered. this shit sucks yo, no wonder the Greeks thought it was a mental illness.

He has no idea how to properly love someone, he’s winging this shit: Doing everything entirely based on vibes

In his past “relationships” the moment conflict arose, he would leave. He doesn’t want to do that to you though, so head it is.

I’m not joking, the moment you have an issue he’s taking you to bed to try and distract you. And he’s always shocked when you still want to, ya know, communicate about issues you’re having after the fact. And he’s always even more shocked when you don’t just leave the moment conflict arises.

Did I mention he has no real concept of how healthy relationships work?

He’s trying though. He’s trying harder to make this work than he’s trying to keep his grades up.

Often catches himself flirting with other girls without even realizing it, it’s just second nature to him. He’ll always disengage the moment he realizes

Oh he’s jealous. Oh he’s so jealous. He sees you just talking to another guy and he’s spiraling in his head. He’s immediately getting involved and planting hickies on your neck right in front of whoever you’re talking to, because you’re his god damn it.

As such he loves to buy you jewelry. His dad’s got fuck you money, and he plans to spend it all on you. His current favorite thing to see you wear it a dainty, golden chain, with a ruby encrustedfrat b R hanging from it. It looked gorgeous on you, and marked you as undeniably his.

Suguru has 1000% had to talk him out of getting a tattoo of your name, this man is down so unbelievably bad. He’s never really been in love before, and now that he’s feeling it he’s overwhelmed by it.

This man really thought he was above getting pussy drunk until he hooked up with you. Now he realizes he’s is Not. At. All immune to it, and is actually quite prone to it!

Ultimately, his goal is to marry you after graduation, even though his fraternity brothers are highly against it. Not because they don’t like you, quite the contrary, they love you! But they all know that marrying your first love probably isn’t the move, and that the two of you have a lot of problems to work through. They want him to at least wait a few years before popping the question.

Still, every once in awhile he catches himself looking at rings and day dreaming about the future.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk frat boy au #fratboy!sukuna #frat boy sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna #frat boy! Sukuna x reader

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undead-supernova · 10 months ago

Text

Masterlist / 18+

pairings: modern!boyfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie are very excited to spend 4/20 together. aka just two idiots getting baked and having fun

important note: this is a silly little unserious one-off of my High Tolerance series, dedicated to the best day of the year (other than Halloween)! This could be read as a stand alone but I think my series as a whole is pretty cool and it makes me squeal and kick my feet

warnings: W E E D, just as much fluff as you'd expect, actual smutty behavior, and YES in this one they're a COUPLE now !!!!

wc: 2k

It began the moment you woke up.

At the first indication of your eyelids opening, Eddie was putting an unlit joint in your mouth and carefully sitting a party hat on your head.

“Happy 4-20, Weirdo,” he whispered before presenting you with a cup of coffee. The mug was one of those ridiculous ones from Spencer’s, with a bowl carved in for the sole purpose of smoking while drinking coffee.

And he packed the bowl. Packed. It.

Taking the joint from your mouth, you said, “Good morning.” It was all groggy and soft, resulting in a quick yawn and your hand lazily reaching for the lighter left on the bedside table.

“We have a full day ahead of us,” Eddie said as you smoked. “Just you and me engaged in a state of bliss.”

“That’s what she said,” you murmured, smoke escaping your nostrils.

“God, I love you,” he said with a chuckle before taking the mug from your hands. As you got out of bed, he added, “Have I said that?”

“Not today.”

“Well, I love you,” he said again, following you as you padded through the hallway and into your living room.

But you stopped in your tracks when you saw a shitty banner strung up on the wall. Just a string holding green balloons with blaze it written out. Oh, and one with a shitty drawing of a weed leaf.

“Okay, I can explain that,” Eddie said, stepping in front of it.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, so there were literally no banners at Walmart, so I made this myself.” He lifted his hands and gestures towards it as if he was presenting it at an art gallery. “Look at that impeccable handwriting.”

“I know, I can actually tell that’s an e,” you agreed, nodding.

Eddie grinned. “You flatter me.”

“Also, I think I love you more,” you finally said. “Just saying.”

“Uh, that’s false,” he argued, quietly skipping into the kitchen to grab a bag. “Not when you see your present.”

“You got me a present? When?” you asked. The two of you had a rare moment of having both days off together. You’d spent that time in bed watching TV and fucking. A normal day for you now, to be quite honest.

Eddie ran back over. “Jailbait Hemp had an early morning Wake N’ Bake sale,” he explained, presenting you with the bag. “Ballsy move to get me out of bed by eight, but I did it.”

“The bravest soldier,” you said with fake sincerity, putting a hand over your heart and bowing. “I owe you my life, my lord.”

“If you keep talking like that, we may have to play maiden in a tower again.” Eddie took a step forward, one hand on your waist as he put his other over yours. Cleared his throat before dramatically tossing his hair over his shoulder. “It is I, good maiden, that has come to rescue you. To guide you to freedom.”

Matching his straightened posture, you let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, dear prince, you have gone to war for me. How can I show you my appreciation and gratitude?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” he murmured with a smirk, leaning in to kiss you gently. You couldn’t help but return the smile, your palm grazing his stubble as you caressed his cheek.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the plate of cookies you’d left on the counter the night before mostly eaten. A glass sat next to it, the milk gone but a white film left behind.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you nearly moved away. But Eddie wouldn’t let you go that easily.

“Where’d the cookies and milk go, Eddie?” you asked.

“Oh, that?” he said, guilt written all over his face. “Babe, I told you Snoop Dogg would come and eat them.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Saw him with my own eyes,” he continued. “He told me to thank you for making them. He even left you two.”

“Two. Out of the ten that were left over.”

His cheeks tinged with pink as he tried not to laugh. “Snoop Dogg got up to pee, right? And then he saw all those cookies you left out and was like ‘Oh, wow, those look really good for a four-a-m snack. Thanks, bro.’”

But Eddie clearly knew he wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “And he was like, ‘Damn, your girlfriend is just so hot. Sooo sexy. Give her a kiss for me.’”

“Snoop Dogg said that?” you questioned, fighting a smile as you went to wrap your hands around his waist.

“Mhm.”

You nodded, pulling him closer. “Every word of that, right?”

“Totally. And I told him to back off ‘cause I spent three years trying to date you.”

“Yeah, it ruined my five-year plan, actually,” you said with a smirk, lifting your hands to trace his collarbone. Eddie laughed, but he shivered at your touch. “Could you imagine still being just friends still? Today of all days?”

Eddie shook his head. “Considering I got painfully hard whenever I was around you—still do, obviously.” His eyes flickered down to the growing bulge in his pajama pants. “But I would not have been able to keep my hands off you. You, my dear, are the most outrageously beautiful being to walk this land.”

“Smooth,” you complimented, trying to slow your racing heart. “I may just forgive you for eating my cookies.”

“Remember when we decided to stop smoking?’ You nodded. “And we had an argument in the kitchen?” You nodded again. “I don’t know why, but I wanted to bend you over the counter so bad it was killing me.”

You couldn’t help your goofy grin despite the aching wetness pooling in your underwear. “That’s funny, ‘cause I was thinking the same thing.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“We were eye-fucking each other,” you whispered, letting your hand move up to caress his face again, placing your thumb against his bottom lip. Watched as he opened his mouth willingly for you.

Eddie’s breathing became staggered, slithering his hands down to cup your ass. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t hot, though.”

“Edging each other for, what, two of those years?”

Pressing you back against the wall dividing the living room and the kitchen, Eddie slotted his thigh between your legs. Lifted one of your thighs to sit at his hip, grinding himself against you.

Being teased was so much more intense within the haze of your high. Every movement was another wave of pleasure, tipping you further into insanity. And you could tell Eddie felt the same from the way he swallowed, clearly trying to keep his composure.

“I do have you all to myself now, you know.”

He ground against you again, pulling a louder moan out of you. You couldn’t help but push your thumb past his lips, watching his eyes roll back as he sucked on it. Swirled his tongue around the digit..

You two were a dangerous pair.

“Eddie, if you don’t bend me over right now, I think I’ll fucking die.”

You didn’t have to tell Eddie twice.

It was almost impossible how quickly he had you pressed against the wall with his cock out and your underwear shoved down your thighs. You let out a sound of impatience, turning your head to watch him pull a condom from his pocket and roll it on.

Your eyebrows pulled tight in confusion when he pulled out another small packet, this time being lube. He messily pumped it along his length. And, before you could ask any questions, he was lining himself up at your entrance and pushing in.

And, as he bottomed out, you gasped.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, head falling back, feeling his wild hair against your face. “Did you have a condom and lube in your pocket the entire time?”

Eddie finally thrusted into you, a high-pitched sound leaving his mouth. “Jesus, sweetheart.” He sighed. “Considering we fuck like rabbits? Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Happy 4-20,” you teased, pushing back on his cock and reveling in the squelching sound and the way his cock buried even deeper inside you.

He gasped, tightening his grip on your hips. “Happy 4-20, baby.”

It took you and Eddie about two more hours to come down from desire, the intimacy too alluring in this state. It had only been six months since you started dating, having nothing but time to make up for. And you’d tried to stop after the first round…and the second. Popped some pizza rolls in the oven and tried to put a movie on. Ended up riding him until the timer was up.

And you would never admit to immediately forgetting they were still in the oven. Though, that was Eddie’s fault for not letting you go until you finished. Always a gentleman, that one.

You ended up in a tank top and a new pair of underwear while he threw on some boxers and one of your cropped t-shirts. Cracked open your windows to air out the joint he bought this morning. Let him crank up the music on his phone as you shimmied your way around the apartment, passing the joint back and forth. It was easy to forget to pace yourselves when he was pulling you close and putting it between your lips.

And it was an easy kind of love, the kind you’d always shared. Everything felt just the same as it had, only needing to remove the tension to fully embrace it. Eddie was always touching you now, no matter where you were. Always doting on you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Steve and Robin always complained that you were lovesick idiots—and they were right, of course. Eddie was always blabbering about your shared future, all the plans that were practically set in stone now. There was no room for doubt or questions.

“I’m gonna marry you, you know,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, one hand on your exposed hip as you swayed. “Just you fucking wait.”

“Mm,” you hummed, your content smile widening. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

You laughed. “Eddie, you’ve told me that, like, a million times since we became official. You already know I wanna marry you, too.”

“Well, I won’t stop,” he promised. “And we’ll have joints at the reception and everyone will dance and we’ll do karaoke and do that cake shoving thing and I’ll have the sickest vows and it’ll be ridiculously cheesy.”

“You’re gonna cry more than me,” you teased. “A big ole baby.”

He giggled. Eddie fucking giggled. It was the cutest goddamn sound you’d ever heard, knowing that he was as elated by your love as you were. Two goddamn smitten idiots.

“It’s gonna be fucking amazing,” he said, putting the last of the joint up to your lips. Watched as you took a puff. “And we’re gonna slow dance to the Lord of the Rings theme song.”

That made you laugh which then made you cough, stepping away from him and clutching your stomach.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, obviously trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, rushing over to chug the last of your glass of water. Just so you could exclaim, “We are not slow dancing to that.”

“Why not?” he asked, scoffing as he put his unoccupied hand on his hip. “It matches our theme.”

“Our theme?”

“Yeah, like, you’re gonna dress up like Arwen and I’ll be decked out in Aragorn’s sick outfit. It's perfect. What about that don’t you get?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, and let me guess. You think we’re gonna get replicas of that fucking ring.”

Eddie couldn’t help his goofy laughter, tossing the burnt filter onto the counter before taking your hands in his. “Was that not already established?”

“You’re the absolute worst boyfriend to exist,” you teased, moving to brush his nose with yours. Breathing him in, all hazy and at ease.

“Yeah, but I’m a great husband,” he whispered before kissing you once more.

another thanks to the lovely @strangergraphics for helping me with the dividers and the editing. you're the best I love you mwuah

#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #boyfriend!Eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x y/n #high tolerance series

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remushrts · 9 months ago

Note

hihi I love your fics n this is my first time requesting :]

may I request a Barty Crouch jr x romantic!amab!reader fluff fic?

Something, something along the lines of the slytherin skittles (or just reader and barty, your call) up on the astronomy tower after curfew (snuck out n’ stuff), and then reader fell asleep on Barty while they were pointing out all the constellations they could see?

thank you so much if you write this, and absolutely no pressure at all if you don’t want to! <3

Stargazing

— pairing: barty crouch jr x amab!reader

— a/n: hii, thank you so much for requesting, i hope you enjoy it, i tried my best!! it's also my first time writing for amab!reader, so let me know if it's okay <3 barty might be a little ooc for what it's used to but i love the idea of a soft barty only with his partner (feel totally free to request again if you want him more chaotic, i'll gladly write that!!)

— warnings: mostly fluff, mention of smoking pot (barty is a little high, reader is open to interpretation)

For the first time in years, maybe, Barty doesn't feel like talking.

Not that he would need to anyway, the silence that lingered between you was comfortable enough to allow that, but still, he never felt so at peace.

He thinks it's about you. It's your presence, the way your hair tickles the skin of his neck where your head lays, gentle weight settling on his chest. When he commented that with Regulus, he said Barty should get a weighted blanket. He thinks you beat it by at least hundred times. Weighted blankets wouldn't do half of what you do to him. He wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

To be fair, you wouldn't either. Not even with the smell around you, weed and smoke and the stolen candies from the kitchen that lay unfinished next to you. Not when you have Barty's heartbeat just above your ear, his voice just loud enough to rumble across your chest when he speaks. You have no idea what he's saying anymore, but it's just so nice to hear him talk.

"This meteor shower is supposed to be rare. You, baby, are supposed to watch." His voice is full of taunt, the smug on his face when he catches your eyes sneaking to him.

"Yeah, Crouch?" You smile back at him, snuggling closer to him as if there was a way to get closer.

"Uhm, can look at me anytime, baby." His hand tugs at your chin, grin wide as he gently pushes it upwards, to the sky. It's beautiful tonight, clear vision from the shooting stars that light up the sky for brief moments before they disappear. "We should make it ours." A beat of silence has passed and you think you've lost something. He makes no sense.

"The stars?" You ask, smile slipping to your lips with no resistance.

"All of it. Each wish from those, they're all ours now. The planets too. All ours..." He points out, following an imaginary trace from the meteor that fell just a moment ago. You blinked, looked over at Barty again, and it's gone.

"I thought you didn't believe this crap?" You say, voice no softer than a whisper, but Barty catches the tease.

"Oh, baby, don't offend me." He lets out a breathy laugh, flicking the side of your head, but not letting you move it either. "I'm taking all the wishes I can for you, angel." The pet names drips from his lips, he has a tendency of saying them a lot when he gets high. You're always "baby", always "angel", always "pretty boy". There's a lack of something on his tone, his arrogance or taunting, but you're buying it. It's strange seeing him so soft, but you adore it, every moment.

You nod against his chest, his rambling and the raspy tone pushing you towards a state you've been trying to avoid, sleep claiming your body in a slow but sure pace. You think Barty can feel it either.

"Thanks, B..." You mumble, getting more comfortable on his chest.

"Anything for my boy." He says, no edge of intention to his words, his hand slipping around you waist to hold you close. His fingers trace your hip bone, softly.

His boy, his words echo on your chest, soft, soft. You could be that, if he kept saying it with that voice. Especially his. You're convinced he got you folded in half with that tone alone. He kisses the corner of your lips, thumb holding your chin in place. He begins to talk about the constellations again, not a single coherent idea to the textbooks you've learned, but just as poetical. You're pretty sure you hear he names a star after you before you fall asleep.

#marauders #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders fluff #the marauders era #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch jr x amab!reader #remushrts writes — ★

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hyperfixated-on-cod · 1 year ago

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✨Smoking with 141, König, Los Vaqueros✨ (CW: cannabis use, 18+)

(This was supposed to be posted like 3 days ago lol but either way…) (the 18+ warning is for a very brief reason but it’s still there)

I got absolutely fucking ASTRONOMICALLY high last night sooo here’s some headcanons😍

John Price

Smoked a little bit here and there when he first enlisted, but eventually quit when he realized he was serious about his career in the military. (I personally don’t think he planned from the start to climb the ranks like he did)

It will take a LOTTT of convincing to get him to smoke with you, and if he agrees, it’s reasonable to assume you’re very special to him.

Goes into it acting like a career stoner… but in reality he hasn’t touched the stuff in about 15 years🙃

If you can’t get him to partake, he absolutely will hang with you while you’re high. All you gotta do is ask.

Prefers edibles simply because “I like having lungs.” Even though the man LITERALLY SMOKES CIGARS😭

Ghost

I don’t think he’s a stoner but like… I also think he does have an edible from time to time, for medical reasons (mostly mental health).

Not many people know this about him; Price knows and helps him plan accordingly for drug tests and makes sure that it’s noted in his file that he uses it for medical reasons; Soap found out on accident.

Under no circumstances does he ever let anybody see him high, so good luck getting him to smoke with you lol

Only gets high when he knows he’s in the clear with work and will be for awhile (so, when he’s on leave). If he feels like he needs to get high (like if he’s just coming back from a particularly hard mission), he goes to Price and asks if it’s okay.

Prefers edibles because he finds it more relaxing and it’s easier for him to take one, and then he gets an hour or so to do other stuff before it hits.

Soap

This man is a stoner. Period point blank.

If he isn’t the first of these men you ask to smoke with you, and he finds out about it, he will be SO offended.

Gets high just to get high. Everything else is a bonus.

Started when he was young, like 16. Quit for awhile as his career was getting more serious, and then he started again.

The whole team knows but nobody really cares because he’s super responsible about it like Ghost is. He plans far ahead of time, doesn’t do it unless he’s off base, etc.

This man is such a giggly bitch and his laugh is so infectious; he’s the first to start laughing and everybody else follows.

Very flirty when he’s high and texts Ghost messages that are just like “🩷🩷💕💕💘💘”

He is so ridiculously horny when he’s high. Been tryna convince Ghost for agessss to get high with him so they can 👉🏽👌🏽

Gaz

Honestly? I don’t think he’s into weed all that much.. or really any substance. He drinks here and there and is never opposed to having a glass of whiskey with Price, but that’s really it.

He has done it tho, and didn’t have a good experience. I feel like he’s a very logical person, so after his first time he probs figured the first time sucked bc it was the first time. So he did it a few more times but nothing changed.

On the off chance he agrees to smoke with you, he wants “adult supervision” (Captain Price lol) just in case he has another bad time.

Makes sure the environment will be 100% controlled. Comfort of his own home, lays out rules and boundaries with you and the Captain (“don’t let me do too much,” “here’s what to do if…”), soft music playing, pillows and blankets everywhere.

König

Again, you’re lucky if you get him to do it with you.

His giggles are somehow worse than Soap’s and significantly more adorable😂

His munchies are SOOO bad. Like, he may plan ahead of time and lay out some snacks to prepare… but he ends up not wanting any of them and stumbles to his kitchen for something else.

He’s a big guy so it takes a bit to get him going, but once he’s there he’s there.

Alejandro

Doesn’t partake. Never has and probably never will. He’s been curious, but just never felt the need to act on that curiosity.

He’s cool about people close to him doing it tho, and will also hang with you while you’re high. Provides some of the BEST snacks.

Rudy

He does do it but he’s… pretentious about it. In a good way.

Oh, you’re bringing him gummies from the dispensary? No. He’s making homemade edibles but not like brownies or cookies; he’s making pasta with infused olive oil or some other type of meal.

He’s super careful about his measurements and makes sure that the product he’s using is as high quality as he can get it.

If you wanna get high with him, go into it on an empty stomach bc he’s gonna make sure y’all eat a damn good meal in the process.

#cod headcanons #john soap mactavish #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #konig mw2 #alejandro vargas #rudolfo parra #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #cod modern warfare #captain price #ghost cod #smoking #cannabis

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pollenallergie · 2 years ago

Text

The Dunes | e.m.

A/N: Reposting this because I tweaked the ending a lil bit... hehe. Also, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” didn’t come out until 1979, so (realistically), you and Eddie would’ve been almost in high school by the time it came out and, therefore, would not have spent your whole childhood singing along to it. However, it’s my (midwestern) family’s road-trip anthem so I had to include it. Thank you @chainsawmunson for beta-reading this!!! Ily <3

Word Count: 6.0k

CW: Adult themes (cursing, smoking weed, etc.; however, nothing smutty happens nor is anything smutty discussed beyond a brief, undetailed mention! I tried to make this as ace friendly as possible, but please let me know if there's something I can do better next time, in that regard!!).

18+ only!!

mdni

“It’s this exit, right, bunny?” Eddie asks.

“Um,” you pause to look down at the map and then up at the road signs ahead. “Yeah, this one,” you confirm.

Eddie merges into the correct lane as he resumes his solo performance of Creeping Death, strumming his calloused thumbs along the worn leather of the steering wheel like it’s the strings of his beloved guitar.

“How close are we now, bug?” Eddie asks.

You check the map before replying, “54-ish miles.”

Eddie huffs out a brief chuckle, “Ish?”

“Yeah, it could be 53 or 54, but it’s definitely not more than 55,” you explain while grinning cheekily.

“Dude, you’re a horrible navigator,” Eddie teases.

“Hey, I told you we should’ve brought the guys with us,” you say defensively, though there’s no real bite behind your words.

“This is probably gonna be our last vacation together, bug, so excuse me for wanting to spend some one-on-one time with my favorite person in all of Indiana,” Eddie remarks dryly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Roxanne had finally moved to Chicago,” you tease, referencing the bartender from the Hideout that you suspect he’s had the hots for since Corroded Coffin first started playing there last fall. Not that you’d blame him for being attracted to her; she’s everyone’s type. Roxy may very well be ten years your senior, but she looks like she hopped straight out of the pages of one of Eddie’s Heavy Metal magazines; as a bottle blonde with tan skin, long, slender legs, heaving breasts, and an affinity for red leather, she’s the very definition of the beauty standard.

Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches across the console to gently shove your shoulder as he grumbles, “Shut up.”

You giggle at his response, but the joyous sound dies in your throat when you remember something Eddie had said previously.

“Grub, why would this be our last vacation together?” You ask curiously.

“Because, Jitterbug,” he sighs before continuing, “in a couple of weeks, you’ll be off in Michigan, meeting all sorts of cool people who are into all the same stuff as you, and you’ll forget all about little ole me,” Eddie explains, feigning lightheartedness as he does so.

“Eddie-” You begin to refute his assumptions, but he soon interrupts.

“Bunny, it’s fine, really. I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen; you’d go off to some amazing university after high school, and, for one reason or another, I’d have to stay behind in Hawkins. I just wanna soak up the last little bit of time we have together, okay?”

“Eddie,” you sigh, moving your hand to rest on Eddie’s thigh, only to immediately remove it when you feel his muscles tense underneath your palm. “Eddie,” you start again, this time without the physical contact, “you’re an idiot if you think that moving a couple hundred miles away is really gonna be enough to make me forget about you. Seriously, I can’t even go a week without talking to you. What do you think I’ve been saving up all that change in my piggy bank for? It’s so I have enough quarters to call your dumbass while I’m away at school,” you reassure him while also teasing him a bit to lighten the mood.

“And here I thought you were saving up to win me that stuffed elephant from the claw machine at Benny’s,” Eddie jests, and you snort at the thought.

“That thing’s been in there since we were ten, otter. I don’t think winning it is even possible,” You reply. Eddie’s heart flutters fondly at your childhood petname for him, one that even predates Grub, inspired by the time you’d watched a seven-year-old Eddie consume a dozen Otterpops one hot July afternoon.

Eddie grins, “Maybe not for you; you suck at claw machines.”

You scoff, “Dick.”

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie responds immaturely while the both of you fight off matching amused smirks.

Eddie covertly glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, a bittersweet feeling stirring in his chest. He misses you already, and you haven’t even left yet. Pathetic, he thinks.

Soon enough, the next track on Eddie’s road trip mixtape begins to play, and a grin lights up your features as the sound of Charlie Daniels’s voice fills the entire van.

Eddie begins to sing along to The Devil Went Down to Georgia, the song the two of you had spent the better half of your childhoods singing along to, thanks to Wayne. And just like that, any and all thoughts of your impending departure are gone.

Just a little under an hour later, the two of you arrive at Dunewood. After an essential stop at the campground’s convenience store for some ice cream sandwiches, you’re ready to set up camp. You and Eddie have come here every summer since you were small, but it’s different this time. This time, it’s just you and Eddie, as Wayne couldn’t come along due to a busy schedule at work. Getting up here was quite a feat given that Beverly Shores is quite a ways away from Hawkins and that, between the two of you, you guys have absolutely zero sense of direction once you get out of Hawkins. However, unpacking your equipment and setting up camp should be a breeze, as you both have prior experience with setting all of this crap up, thanks to the fact that Wayne always made the two of you help him set up camp.

Although, what should be the case and what actually is the case, apparently, aren’t always aligned.

“Dude, are you helping me or what?” You huff out frustratedly as you attempt to haul the packed-away tent out of the back of Eddie’s van on your own. Meanwhile, your less-than-helpful best friend is reclining in the front seat, still munching away on his melting ice cream sandwich. The sticky sweet ice cream is dripping down onto his beloved Black Sabbath band tee, making a mess in a way that might be goofily adorable if he were a toddler, but, alas, he’s a man, a messy man, but a man nonetheless.

“Mhm, yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” he replies nonchalantly before turning up the radio’s volume as if attempting to drown out the sounds of your complaining with Rob Halford’s eerie growls. He begins to headbang to the rowdy music, further solidifying that he will not get out of the van to help you anytime soon.

You groan exasperatedly as you lug the heavy tent closer to the stone fire pit while managing to keep it a reasonable distance from where a hearty fire will rage on later in the night. As you squat down to unzip the bag the tent is kept in for storage, you unknowingly bless your dear best friend with a marvelous view of your denim-clad ass, the fat there causing the fabric to strain to the point where it looks as if your favorite pair of jean shorts may rip right along the tight seam.

As he finishes off the last of his ice cream sandwich, Eddie resists the urge to continue ogling you, instead averting his gaze and opting to focus all of his attention on staring aimlessly out the windshield of his van while thinking about truly horrid shit in an attempt to prevent a tent of his own from forming in his jeans. Fortunately, that tried and true strategy never fails him. Unfortunately, it does require him to think about the time he had to dissect a fetal pig in junior-year biology; if Eddie thinks about it for too long, he swears he can still smell the formaldehyde along with the scent of his lab partner’s raging B.O.

Once Eddie’s reigned his inner horndog back in, he turns the key in the van’s ignition, fully turning off the vehicle, before climbing out of the driver’s seat to finally offer you some help with setting up camp.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie huffs humorously, “Give that to me before you break it,” he teases, referring to the poles of the tent that you’re trying to snap together. You briefly pause your attempts to glare at him.

“I’m not gonna break it, asshole,” you reply bitterly before finally managing to snap the pieces together. Once you do so, you look up at Eddie and fix him with a victorious grin.

“Why don’t you start the fire so we can eat dinner when we finish setting up all this stuff?” You suggest before fixing your friend with a mischievous smile and continuing, “Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar.”

Eddie scoffs at your teasing but heeds your request nonetheless, going to fetch the firewood your dad had reluctantly given him, some logs cut from the unfortunate trees that weren’t good enough to sell at the farm this past Christmas season.

“Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar,” he mumbles in a silly tone, clearly mocking you as he grabs a couple of logs from the van, causing you to cackle. Eddie scowls and blushes, mildly embarrassed as he wasn’t aware that you could hear his mockery from your spot across the campsite. The expression on his face only makes you laugh harder, and you don’t stop until Eddie gets petulant and throws one of the towels he’d brought for the beach at you.

After that playful spat, you both fall into a comfortable silence, too concentrated on your respective tasks to hold a conversation with each other. It isn’t until Eddie has successfully set up the fire and starts getting the food you’d both prepared ahead of time out that either one of you speaks again.

“Hey, Grub?” You call out to him from your spot near the still partially unassembled tent. Eddie responds with a soft hum as he continues to rifle through the cooler he’d filled with food and drinks.

“Don’t put the food on yet. The tent’s still not ready yet,” you inform him.

Eddie then shuts the cooler with an annoyed huff, leaving the food inside the chilled box as he comes over to join you.

“It would be if you would’ve just let me take care of it,” he nags as he squats down to help you finish setting up the tent.

You scoff, “Yeah, right, it would’ve taken you twice the amount of time just to figure out how to put this shit together simply because you refuse to read instruction manuals.”

“Incorrect,” Eddie defends himself, “it would’ve taken me half the time to put this shit together because I wouldn’t have wasted so much time reading the pointless instructions.”

“Says the man who just put our rainfly on before the tent body,” you tease as you stand up and strip the bright blue fabric off the tent.

“Does it really matter what order we put this shit on? I mean, so long as it’s on there, we’re good, right?” Eddie asks, standing up with his hands on his hips as he assesses the situation, discerning what’s left to do. The shit-eating grin on his face tells you he’s not being serious and is just trying to rile you up by being intentionally obtuse. So, rather than dignify his question with an answer, you simply fix him with an annoyed glare and then attempt to put the tent body on by yourself. Eddie chuckles at your terse expression as he begins to help you.

Finally, a few moments later, the two of you have set up your tent, leaving you to put your sleeping bags and pillows inside and set up the chairs near the fire as Eddie gets to work on cooking up a couple of foil burgers over the fire; a Munson family recipe and camping essential that’s really nothing more than a beef patty resting on top of a bed of potatoes and a few veggies inside a tinfoil cocoon.

You still remember the first time you’d had such a delicacy during your first camping trip with the Munsons. You were absolutely ravenous, having just got back to camp with Wayne and Eddie after spending all day at the beach, your hair still wet from swimming around in the chilly waters of Lake Michigan and the baby tooth you’d lost while wrestling around in the sand with Eddie nestled in the patch pocket of Wayne’s flannel. As a result of your profound hunger, the easy dinner Wayne had prepared for the three of you tasted like the single greatest thing you’d ever eaten in all your eight years of life. Although, even now, when you finally bite into your burger after Eddie gets done making them, hungry but not at all starving thanks to the sweet treat you’d wolfed down earlier, that simple dish still tastes like one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten, the gooey cheese coating your tongue as you munch away happily.

As for Eddie, he seems to agree about the delectableness of the foil burgers if the moan he emits as he bites into his burger is any indication. You giggle at the sound, feeling your cheeks heat up all the while. Always so dramatic, you think fondly.

“We’ve really outdone ourselves this time, bug,” Eddie declares. You hum your agreement as you bite into a crispy chunk of potato.

“The dried rosemary was a good touch. Where’d you get that anyways?” You ask him once you’ve swallowed your bite of starchy goodness.

He grins around his mouthful of food, “Stole a jar of it from the pantry at Gareth’s place after I got done fixin’ the kitchen sink for his mom yesterday.”

“Eddie!” You scold him.

“What? I’ll bring it back Saturday when we have band practice. Lorraine’ll never even know it was missing,” he reasons.

You simply shake your head at him disapprovingly while trying to fight off an amused smile, “You’ve gotta get those sticky fingers in check, Grub.”

Later in the night, as you both lounge in your tent, sharing a joint to help you relax before you go to sleep, your mind races with fretful thoughts about going to college in a few weeks.

“Eds,” you softly call out from just beside him, your head resting on his shoulder and his on yours as you lay with your bodies extended in opposite directions.

“Yeah, bug?”

“No one’s ever- I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” you confess, your inhibitions lowered as the high sets in.

Eddie snorts a laugh, amused by your randomness rather than your inexperience, “Yeah, I know, Jitterbug.”

“What if I meet someone at school, and they kiss me?” You worry aloud. Eddie’s chest tightens at the thought, but he does his best to ignore it.

“Then you’ll have your first kiss, duh,” he remarks simply as if the mere thought of you kissing someone - anyone - but him doesn’t make him want to cry and hurl simultaneously.

“Yeah, I know, but what if it’s bad because… because I don’t know what I’m doing?” You ask, after rolling over to look into his doe eyes, your face hovering above his as your arms hold you up above him. Your breath smells like Kraft singles and Skunk #1, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care; he’s just happy to have you so close to him.

“First kisses are usually bad, silly billy,” Eddie giggles, the powers of the Dutch strain making him giddy even though his heart is aching just from hearing you talk about this shit.

“But I don’t want mine to be bad,” you reply, your tone bordering on petulant as your brows furrow and your lips pout just slightly, “what if the guy I’m with gets weirded out by how bad I am at it and like never speaks to me ever again?”

“Then that’s his loss, Jitterbug,” Eddie says without missing a beat.

You sigh and sit up, shoulders hunching in slightly as you pout.

“God, what if he does the opposite and tries to, you know, touch me?” You ponder, unintentionally breaking your best friend’s heart. Eddie’s sure that the knowledge of anyone but him touching you like that would devastate him.

“If- if that’s not something you’d be comfortable with, then just tell him,” he reasons.

“But what if he doesn’t listen to me? My sister says that sometimes guys don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” you reply, and Eddie’s jaw clenches at the thought.

“Then I’ll kill him,” Eddie replies genuinely, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Grub, you can’t even kill the spider that’s been camped out in your room for the past two weeks,” you tease, and Eddie frowns in response.

“That’s different. Guillermo and I have come to a mutual understanding, he kills the flies, and I don’t kill him,” Eddie replies defensively, and your giggles increase tenfold upon finding out that he’s named the damn thing.

“You’re adorable, Eddie Bear,” You remark once your giggles have ceased. As you wipe the tears of amusement out of your eyes, you miss the blush that rises to Eddie’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as he hands you the joint. You accept it gracefully as you take a hit, exhale, and then take another. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mesmerized by the sight of your lips wrapping around the joint, as if it’s a sight he hasn’t seen hundreds of times already. He’s immediately snapped out of his trance when you hand the joint back to him, your fingers brushing against his as you hand it over, still holding in the last puff you’ve taken.

As you finally exhale your last hit, a brilliant idea comes to mind, or at least one that seems clever in your current state.

“You should be my first kiss,” you suggest, making Eddie choke on the puff of smoke he’s just inhaled.

“What? Me?” Eddie asks incredulously in between bouts of coughing.

“Yeah, if you’re cool with it,” you respond nonchalantly as you grab the joint from him.

“No, no, no, I think you’ve had enough for tonight, space cadet,” Eddie remarks as he plucks the joint from between your fingertips.

“How do you feel, bug?” Eddie had asked you the first time you got high.

“‘M so high, I think I could touch the stars up here,” you’d groaned, making Eddie chuckle.

“Don’t worry, space cadet, I’ll be your ground control,” he’d reassured you.

You whine, “Eddie, I’m not even that high.”

“Of course, you’re not,” Eddie replies sarcastically as he stubs out the joint, opting to save the rest for tomorrow morning.

“Eddie, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say as you timidly pick at the loose threads of your sleeping bag, “kiss me, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me,” you clarify.

Eddie sighs, knowing you’re not gonna let this go very easily. His mind races with thoughts of you kissing him, and his heart lurches at the idea that you’d even want to kiss him, but he also knows it’s too good to be true. You don’t actually want this, at least not with him; you’re just high and lonely. You’re too amazing and angelic; you could never want a freak like him, not in the same way he wants you.

“How about you ask me again in the morning, okay?” Eddie offers placatingly as he climbs into his sleeping bag, saying anything he can to get you to drop this, to stop torturing him.

Eddie’s not leaving any room for argument as he rolls over to face the opposite direction before shutting off the lantern. You sigh before climbing into your own sleeping bag and getting comfy.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper tentatively, worrying that you’ve upset him.

“Goodnight, bunny.”

The following day is awkward, to say the least. The fresh air the wooded campground provides is nice, or it would be if it wasn’t filled with unbearable tension thanks to last night’s events.

Eddie won’t even look at you, hasn’t spared you so much as a single glance since the two of you first woke up at around 9 a.m., nearly two hours ago. Granted, he’s not being outwardly hostile or anything like that. Instead, Eddie just won’t look at you, won’t speak to you in more than short sentences and noncommittal hums, and hasn’t touched you at all since last night when his fingers brushed yours as you exchanged the shared joint repeatedly. Usually, he would’ve talked your ear off about some new music by now, most likely the new Metallica album, or even about the latest drama plaguing the Hellfire club; surprisingly, a lot of juicy gossip comes out of that group. If the present circumstances were normal, Eddie also would’ve definitely exploited the many unintentional openings you’d given him this morning by tackling you to the ground or putting you in a half-nelson by now. However, he hasn’t done either of those things and, if his tense body language is anything to go off of, you figure he probably won’t be doing any of those things any time soon. How strange is it that you’ve begun to miss how Eddie playfully wrestles with and pesters you? How pathetic is it that you’ve started to yearn for how he carelessly flings you around like a ragdoll in an ornery display of his shocking strength?

“What time are we heading to the beach?” You ask meekly as you continue to pick at the Zingers Eddie had gotten you from the campground’s convenience store earlier this morning. At least he’d still gone out of his way to get your favorite breakfast-adjacent junk food. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Dunno,” he replies gruffly and then shrugs his shoulders as he takes another puff of his cigarette, his gaze still fixed on the sparse grass beneath his Reeboks.

“Maybe we could head out there in like an hour?” You suggest, your tone still timid and unsure, “That way, we could grab lunch on the way there. I just- I don’t think three Zingers will hold me over for the rest of the day. Not that I don’t appreciate that you got them for me, because I do! It’s just-”

Eddie cuts you off with another short, gruff response, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You frown at his dismissive tone. Had you really pushed things too far last night? Was the idea of kissing you so bad that even the mere suggestion of it had gotten Eddie this upset?

When you first woke up this morning, you were mortified by the memory of what you’d said to your friend last night. Now, his sudden indifference toward you only amplifies that feeling of humiliation.

This is only day two of what’s supposed to be a week-long trip, and you’re not sure if you can survive several more days of this trip, not if things will continue being this tense between you and Eddie. So, you decide to repress your shame in favor of making peace. After all, only a couple weeks after you get home from this trip, your dad will drive you up to Ann Arbor to move into your new dorm room for your first semester at college. You’re unsure if your friendship with Eddie could survive the distance, not with this lingering hostility creating such a harsh divide between you two.

“Look, Eds,” you sigh, swallowing down what’s left of your pride as you prepare to grovel, to plead for your friendship to remain unchanged after last night’s blunder, “I’m sorry about last night, about asking you to… to kiss me. I mean- fuck- Grub, I’m really sorry for bringing it up and making shit weird between us. I promise I’m not, like, harboring some freakish little crush on you or anything like that. I just- I wanted you to be my first kiss because,” you pause with a quivering sigh, thinking better of your impending confession, “You know what? That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I’m sorry, really fucking sorry, and I just wanna go back to the way things were before I said any of that stupid crap, okay? I just wanna enjoy our trip. I wanna have fun doing moronic bullshit in the woods with my best friend, the same way we always do every summer. Do you think we can do that? That we can just go back to the way things were? Please?”

Eddie sighs, dragging the palm of his hand harshly down his face until it reaches his jaw, where it then remains, kneading the muscles there as if to relieve the tension. His soulful brown eyes flicker up to meet yours just briefly before his gaze falls back to the ground. He finally breaks the silence, quietly asking, “Why me? Why d’ya wanna kiss me?”

The question catches you off guard, so much so that you almost think you’d misheard him when he asked it. You can only think to reply with a surprised, breathy, “What?”

“Why did you want to kiss me, bug?” Eddie reiterates.

Your brows furrow, your nose scrunching up as you ponder and carefully plan your reply, not wanting to give too much away, wanting to keep your cards clutched close to your chest. You finally come up with an honest response and, most importantly, one that omits some of the more embarrassing details. You tug on the inside of your lower lip with your teeth, wriggling the flesh between your incisors, working up the courage to answer his question before sighing and eventually replying, “Because I trust you, Eddie. Because I know you won’t take things too far or do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

Eddie’s leg bounces as he considers your answer. “That’s all?” He asks suddenly, once again catching you off guard.

“Wha- What d’you mean?” You curiously inquire, wearing your confusion plainly on your features.

“That’s it? That’s the only reason why?” Eddie questions, his gaze intense, alight with an emotion you can’t place.

“I mean,” you trail off, your leg bouncing in tandem with Eddie’s, though not intentionally. “Yeah, kind of,” you lie.

Unfortunately, Eddie still doesn’t look entirely convinced, and that makes you nervous. You huff out frustratedly, wringing your hands together and carefully thinking over your words before speaking.

“Grub, I’m 18 years old, and I’ve never once in my whole life kissed someone, so, yeah, at this point, I’m pretty fucking desperate. Hell, I think I’d kiss just about anyone,” you ramble, slightly exasperated.

I think I’d kiss just about anyone.

You don’t mean it as an insult, you don’t mean to hurt Eddie’s feelings, he knows you don’t, but it still stings something fierce.

“Look, Eds, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, so if you’re not-”

Eddie interrupts you, not that he’s truly listening to how you’re trying, in vain, to walk back your previous statements anyways. No, Eddie’s too busy thinking about if he is actually going to go through with this. He bluntly asks, “Just one kiss?”

Those three words halt you in your tracks, making your breath hitch. You miraculously manage to collect yourself and come up with a coherent response.

“Yeah,” you reply in a tone that’s gentle and airy, soft and breathy like a sigh, “just one.”

“I’ll do it,” Eddie swiftly asserts, taking you both by surprise. “I mean, um, I’ll- I’ll help you, but you gotta promise me something first, ’kay?”

“Yeah, yeah, anything, Grub, of course,” you agree far too eagerly, making a swirling mass of embarrassment sink down heavily into the pit of your stomach. All the while, your voice is still soft and quiet, nothing more than a susurration.

“You gotta promise me you won’t let this change things between us, bug. Okay? I can’t lose-” Eddie cuts himself off with a shaky, anxious exhale, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he attempts to reign in his emotions. He wants to tell you that if he ever lost you again, like he did in the summer of 1980, he wouldn’t be able to survive it; Eddie’s not really sure how he survived it last time. However, Eddie’s too afraid to tell you that, too scared of what that implies, and infinitely more scared of how you’d react to that implication. So, he drops his hands from his face, opting to pick at his nail beds to keep his fidgety fingers busy, as he continues, “I’m just helping you out, alright? So, just- You gotta promise that you won’t start acting all weird around me or, um, start avoiding me again, or whatever.”

You frown at the sentiment, briefly looking back on those two years you’d spent without Eddie in high school. You were an idiot back then, avoiding the one person, the only one of your peers, who’d ever shown you genuine kindness, just because he’d gotten a little mean and said some things that had hurt your feelings during a heated exchange, what’s worse is they were things you’d desperately needed to hear. You gently shake your head as if to rid yourself of any and all memories of that lonely time in your life before looking into Eddie’s eyes and earnestly swearing, “I won’t, Grub. Nothing will change between us, I promise.”

Things truly won’t change between the two of you; you’ll make sure of that. Eddie will never find out about the love you pathetically harbor for him, and, most importantly, you’ll never shut him out again. Even when he settles down one day with someone who isn’t you, maybe marries them and has a couple kids with them, you’ll still be his best friend, no matter how much it hurts, and you’ll make damn sure that Eddie never finds out how much it hurts you.

Eddie can hear the unwavering sincerity in your voice, can see it in your gaze, and it makes him smile softly, a warm expression you cannot help but reciprocate.

“Okay,” he breathes, his tone wavering as he rubs his sweaty palms on the rough denim of his jeans. “Just, um, c’mere… If you want to, I mean,” he stammers awkwardly. You’d probably chuckle at his apparent nervousness if you weren’t feeling the same way right now. Instead, you simply get up out of your lawn chair, rise to your feet, and trek across the short distance between the two of you. You then lower yourself to sit down in the grass in front of Eddie, who promptly lowers his legs, his knees no longer tucked up against his chest as he now sits tailorwise, or criss-cross-applesauce, as you both call it. You sit in the same position, your knees pressed against his own as you mirror him.

Eddie tentatively leans forward, bridging the gap between you two, as one of his large, warm hands rises to hover over one of your shoulders for a brief moment before he finally gets the courage to lower it so that it rests there. With his other hand, he takes a much bolder step, lifting his arm and hesitantly reaching up to brush his calloused fingertips against the soft, smooth skin of your cheek before finally cupping it in his palm.

“Is this okay?” He asks you quietly, like he’s afraid that speaking more loudly than a mere whisper will frighten you and scare you off. You nod your affirmative as your hands slowly move forward to rest on his denim-clad thighs, just above his knees. That contact makes Eddie’s breath hitch, but you both elect to ignore it for reasons unbeknownst to each other.

Eddie then leans in further, his bulbous nose gently brushing against yours with purpose, effectively warning you and giving you a chance to stop him. However, you do the opposite. “Eds, please, kiss me,” you whisper.

It’s all the encouragement Eddie needs. He closes the gap between the two of you, his lips finally meeting yours. You try to reciprocate as best as you can, but you’re, admittedly, a little lost. You’re overthinking things, Eddie can tell. He pulls away far sooner than he would’ve liked to and then presses a comforting kiss to the corner of your mouth, by one of your smile lines that he loves so much.

“I wasn’t good, was I?” You grimace, your forehead still resting against his. “Please, you can tell me. I just wanna know what to do, Ott.”

Eddie licks his lips before hesitantly replying, “When you, um,” he clears his throat, “the next time that you kiss someone, try not to purse your lips so much,” he winces, both at the thought of you kissing someone else and out of fear that he’s been too harsh.

“I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone?” Eddie thinks your puzzled expression is far too adorable to be legal.

“You are! You are, a little bit, I mean. Just not quite so much; you gotta relax your um- your mouth a little bit,” Eddie blushes, thoroughly flustered. As usual, you’re oblivious to his plight, too caught up in your own mind.

Your brows furrow as you stare at his chin absentmindedly, mind racing a million miles an hour all the while, “S-so how much should I purse them then?”

Eddie thinks it over. “It’s hard to explain,” he sighs.

“Could you, you know, show me?” You ask. “I mean, if you’re comfortable kissing me again.”

Little do you know, Eddie would gladly give up both of his kidneys if it meant he got to kiss you again. Needless to say, he’s pretty stoked that he gets to do it without having to endure a double nephrectomy.

He nods, answering wordlessly, before leaning in again, connecting your lips once more. You make sure to pay attention to what he’s doing, to how it feels, so you can mirror it. You relax your mouth a bit, your lips not quite as pursed as before, and Eddie sighs his approval. That sound sets your whole body alight with tingly, little fireworks.

You both get caught up in the moment, in the feeling of finally acting on the desires you’ve both spent years repressing. Consequently, when Eddie nips at your bottom lip, and you respond with a gasp that he can only describe as sinful, he doesn’t even try to resist the urge to take advantage of the momentary part in your lips. You pull back abruptly, primarily out of shock, when you feel his tongue slip through the gap. Eddie winces at the loss.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies gruffly, comfortingly rubbing your upper arms on instinct, soothing you.

You let out an easy, breathy giggle as you ease back into his space, resting your forehead gently against his own. “It’s okay. You surprised me, that’s all. Just, um, warn me next time, okay?”

Warmth blossoms in both of your chests at the thought of getting to kiss each other again. Eddie lets out a gentle chuckle of his own as he moves his other hand up to cup your other cheek, feeling the warmth alight beneath the soft skin there too.

“Next time?” Eddie questions with a nervous grin, mentally berating himself for daring to question you because, in his eyes, you’re practically offering your lips up to him on a silver platter, and he’s about to make you second guess that monumental decision.

“Yeah,” you let out the prettiest little sigh, “I feel like I have a lot left to learn, and, well, you seem like a pretty good teacher. I mean, if you don’t mind kissing me again, that is,” you look into his eyes hopefully. Eddie feels his smile grow wider at the sight of your sanguine expression.

Eddie offers his whispered reassurance while gently nudging the tip of your nose with his own, “I don’t mind.”

Needless to say, you two won’t make it to the beach today.

Side Note: Please don't feel like you're weird if you're older than 18 and still haven't had your first kiss yet!! I literally haven’t had my first kiss yet and I’m 21 years old. We all do things at our own pace and in our own time, so, trust me, you're not weird at all if you're an adult (of any age) who hasn't been kissed yet!!

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we-are-inevitable · 2 years ago

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going back to that tattoo artist/actor au. i think that davey- the actor, if you havent seen the og post- would get the tattoo as a little act of rebellion to remind himself that, even with this influx of fame, he can still be his own person. he’s not just playing a part in his own life.

because davey was quick to be on the big screen after his first few auditions, which he only did as a quick way to make a little cash. at the time that david is cast for his first huge role, he’s a college student studying to become a teacher, and really only auditioned because he could barely afford rent and one of his roommates ran away and dropped out of college and now he and his other roommates have to pay the landlord the runaway roommate’s portion of the rent and david can barely afford food for himself let alone pay another person’s share of the rent and he sees an ad online and thinks why the fuck not because otherwise he’s homeless and shit out of luck. and that’s when he goes in for an audition with only two years of high school theater under his belt.

he wasn’t going for a huge role- he was auditioning for a small role as a waiter in a scene, maybe, or maybe some sort of secretary background character- but he was captivating and had a natural charm that the casting director really enjoyed. push comes to shove, they ask for him to read for a different character, and that’s what gets the ball rolling for him to be cast as a lead in a different movie. it’s a whirlwind that happens so quickly over the course of a few months, and then comes the actual filming portion, and the post-production marketing, and interviews and press conferences and red carpets and this isn’t his world, it wasn’t supposed to be his world, but the movie does *so* much better than he ever expected and suddenly he’s hollywood’s new white boy of the week.

he loves it, but it’s an adjustment, and the tattoo is almost a reset for him.

because he’s a sentimental guy, the tattoo would likely be something inspired by his movie, and yes people may think of that in a very arrogant, self-important way- but truthfully, it’s because davey knows his life is never going to be the same, and he wants to commemorate that.

his next tattoo, again done by jack, is something important to his family. but for the most part, davey gets a tattoo for every project he feels proud of; he’s like a walking scrapbook of where his career starts and progresses, and it’s always fun debuting his new tattoos for his fans.

also, because i got a lot of asks about it— davey does a lot of coming-of-age roles when he first starts, like Call Me By Your Name and Lady Bird style. dramatic, melancholic, perfectly encapsulating the fear of growing up and longing to stay who you are but know there’s a change coming. he also dabbles in comedy, but they aren’t his favorite roles; he really just loves heartwrenching dramas!

i imagine this is because he kind of,, yearned for it when he was growing up, the drama and the pain. he was blessed with a great family. every time he wanted to rebel, like when he decided he was emo in middle school, or when he was caught smoking weed as a 16 year old, his family never cared, they just made sure he was safe. and that was so great, he appreciated it so much, but what is david jacobs without the unexplainable sadness sitting deep on his chest? he would feel better with a reason for being so depressed, because then he would have an explanation. he wouldn’t just be an ungrateful fuck up like he thinks he is. so he takes the heavier roles so he can pour all of that untapped angst into them and finally have the emotional releases he’s dreamed of.

anyway yeah davey is a regular Jack Kelly client <33

#this au is rotting away in my brain and making me feel things #davey stumbling into chalamet-esque fame and not knowing how to deal is something that can actually be so personal….#davey jacobs #jack kelly #newsies #david jacobs #livesies #jac txt.#newsies musical #javid #javey #tattoo hollywood au

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e-mmygrey · 2 months ago

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History Must Repeat Itself - Act 2/Chapter 9

Author's Note: another filler chapter but that's okay! We always love reading more about our favourite misfits

1.3k words

Into 1985...

I'd attended to eight different schools over my eighteen years. By the fourth, I lived in constant fear my mother would spontaneously decide to move, looking for something new. I never let myself join clubs, make any deep friendships, or explore where I lived. I just went from home, to work, to school, and back.

Hawkins, Indiana was different. I'd officially turned eighteen years old here meaning I chose to stay here when my mother made her impulsive decision that Indianapolis was the better Indiana city. My sister made a fuss about being told they were leaving without me. When Madison threatened to run away and come back here any chance she got, my mother didn't make a fuss about letting her stay with me. I was legally allowed to watch over my sister, staying with the friends she made. We didn't have to leave and start over. My mother kept her name on everything to do with the house but mostly, it was my responsibility.

For my eighteenth birthday in May, the pack of children that destroying my house daily decided to stage a giant water balloon fight in the local junk yard. They built an entire course and everything. Apparently, they'd tried for paintball, but Nancy and Steve both said no and wouldn't help purchase them. The water balloons didn't get violent, with only Lucas getting a bloody nose from Dustin and El cheating once.

Okay, maybe twice.

I had real friendships for the first time in years. Eddie and I smoked weed together at least twice a week and listened to a lot of music. He even 'dragged' me to a couple concerts. For my birthday, Eddie drove us out to the middle of nowhere, leaving my sister in the care of Max's mum, and we camped for the weekend. My present from him was a spare key to his van, which made me feel honoured since no one drove his van, and a hat embroidered with 'Dungeon Master's Assistant'. With the hat was an invitation to Hellfire Club, as a spectator or player. That made me tear up. Eddie bought a crappy bottle of champagne, toasting to my eighteenth birthday and his sworn upcoming graduation of 1985.

Robin was the friend I could act like a child with. However, I refused to eat sugar with her or in her presence. I'd seen her drunk once at a party and I instinctively knew sugar wouldn't end well. Madison was thankful I had a friend that she matched energy with since I matched Max's energy constantly. Nancy may have given great fashion advice, but Madison preferred when Robin was over to encourage the chaos. After the school band lost a trumpet player to a skiing accident and a broken hand, Robin didn't give me a moment of peace for three days until I agreed to fill the role for the remaining school year. I knew I gave in too quickly, but that girl could be a lot when she wanted. I loved her, but I plotted her death during those days more than once.

The best moment of playing in the band was attending the 1985 graduation. I cheered loudly for Steve and Billy as they crossed the stage. Eddie didn't pass all his classes, however, which really sucked. No matter how he tried to hide it, he was bummed. I'd dropped Madison off to Max's again and we hibernated in Eddie's room for two days. Yes there was marijuana, but it was mainly just listening to music and lying there. I watched Eddie cry for the first time. It wasn't a lot of tears, but enough for me to become determined. I planted a kiss on his lips before promising him that I'd drag him by his shirt across the stage with me if I had to. He was graduating. He would only be repeating senior year three times. If not, I was going to create a fake diploma for him. Fuck Principal Higgins.

Cheering for Steve didn't surprise anyone. Our friendship had gotten stronger since the events in October. But also, it's King Steve. Even if he hadn't gone by that title for at least a year. There weren't many silent people in the audience when he crossed the stage. He told me after that surprised him. Even if his parents attended, he'd expected silence.

Cheering for Billy on the other hand, got me looks from the band. An old friend of Steve's, Carol began calling me 'Billy's whore' at some point during the year. People knew we parked beside each other and exchanging the occasional comment in the parking lot. Most people assumed it was about our sisters, who'd been glued at the hip. Only Robin and Nancy knew that our conversations didn't always stay on that topic. I don't think any of Billy's "friends" did. I kept as much of it as I could from Eddie and Steve. They both looked down at my friendship with Billy.

No one knew that Billy Hargrove sat on my roof most nights, sharing a joint. Some weekends, he laid on my couch watching ridiculous cartoons for hours after he'd dropped Max off.

I was careful about what I said to him. After the night he almost killed Steve, I worked at not seeing Billy that angry again. I left my window unlocked for the nights Neil Hargrove decided to "parent" his son, and I'd wake up in the morning with Billy sleeping in my room. Sometimes on the floor, but more often as of late, he was on the bed. I offered him a house key but Billy wouldn't take it, stating he'd never need it and that he was fine.

The friend sleeping over the most was Steve Harrington. If you'd asked me that when I first moved to Hawkins, I might've guessed Robin. Not the prior King of Hawkins High. It started with Steve staying for dinner once I found out how rarely his parents were home. I couldn't make dinner without thinking about Steve being alone in that giant house. Thus, daily phone calls and would be over fifteen minutes later.

He progressively stayed later and later, until it was ridiculous for him to drive home. Usually, he'd sleep on the couch. But sometimes we'd be a little drunk and snuggle into my bed. Long, stressful days at work? A friendly cuddle and quietly talking ourselves to sleep was nice. Homework getting too much? A shoulder massage and reading until the book fell to the floor.

Okay, maybe more often than not, Steve and I woke up wrapped up in each other, my bedsheets sprawled on the floor. It wasn't talked about after we woke up.

Our friendship was solidified in Hawkins history when I got into a fight with Tommy's girlfriend, Carol. I'd never had a conversation with the girl, but Carol felt like she needed to bark comments at me whenever she got a chance. While we stood at my locker one morning, Carol decided to start trash talking Steve with Tommy and their little friends gathered around. Billy stood off to the side, his mouth shut. I knew it was for my sake, as Billy took any chance to take a bite out of Steve. When I stepped between Carol and a silent Steve, the crowd got larger.

Apparently, Carol wasn't a fan of someone standing up to her. I only got one swing in after Carol was pressured by the crowd into pushing me before a teacher arrived and gave us both detention. Carol's nose was bleeding which didn't look good on me. Steve broke me out from the hell of sitting in the office, both of us flipping Carol off as we went.

It wasn't just myself that I was happy to stay in Hawkins. More than just staying in the same school, Madison kept her friends. She and Max, and eventually El when she was allowed out of Hopper's cabin, were always surrounded by the Boys. If Steve, Billy and I were to park next to each other at school, I'd swear we drove half of the middle school. Of course, neither Billy nor Steve would risk their cars' safety by parking that close to each other.

Life was good... and that was weird.

#stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #eddie munson #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction

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fantasticharmonymiracle · 6 months ago

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Let me say that I have infinite respect for @thelastaerie for providing us with a ton of fantastic and masterfully written fics about Kay and Marc's love story, truly. However, the entire fandom needs to be true with themselves and realise that if Freier Fall was irl Kay would never, EVER even consider getting back with Marc.

Let me elaborate:

Marc was definitely in love with Kay especially towards the end of the film but that doesn't mean he loved him because he never made the effort, as we know, and never saw Kay as his first choice. He technically was Plan B in case Bettina, which she did, didn't take him back. As romantic as we want to paint it, it doesn't put a good foundation for yet another toxic fling almost fifteen years after.

Also, very problematic is the fact that Kay pursued Marc in a questionable way like in the woods. I didn't hear any consent being given for that hand job or whatever happened (haven't seen the film in a while) and also, Kay clearly saw that Marc was basically married and with a baby on the way. It's not ethical at all to go after a taken man, regardless of the fact that you think he's a closeted gay man and you feel the itching urge to play the saviour angel and drag him out of the closet. I feel like both of them would realise it was certainly a heated time of their life but also not the best to jump back into and bring back chaos into their existence.

Bettina, she's a boss BUT that shower scene I cannot stand to watch, it feels way too violent and if a sequel happens I'm not sure how they should deal with the whole co-parenting deal without addressing that bit.

On top of this all, they may be both men but the punches they threw at each other are not acceptable whatsoever irl. It's not sexy nor a sign of true love. It's plain violence and a cheap substitute for grown-up talk. I get it, in films one has to emphasize emotions to draw the audience in but if I was Kay and I had Marc beg me to get back together... Like fuck I would after that and after I was literally thrown under the bus to save his sorry ass.

In terms of character as well, Kay comes across as a weirdly crafted excuse to drag the plot cause a wannabe cop smoking weed and taking ecstasy is surely "attractive" on camera but doesn't make sense in the real world. Why would you pick police as your career choice? Conquering the enemy from the inside is surely not gonna last that long, innit? This being said, considering the wild nature of Kay I doubt he'd fit well with Marc, even after his potential development and acquired emotional intelligence. I see older Kay as an accomplished something in whichever field having the time of his life in Berlin, or just a deranged junkie somewhere in Germany. Certainly, if we go with option 1, not one that would lower his standards for Marc, still. He wouldn't slow down for him again after being treated like shit.

Irl Marc would probably see the experience as an awakening but it wouldn't do a 180 on him, he'd still be the Stuttgart cop who now admits to himself he likes blokes OR would have a massive identity crisis, drop out of police and have a very hard time for the next 10/15 years, still not good unless we want a Trainspotting kinda love story (meaning the hopeless, scum of the earth vibes).

To end this rambling, not a good match but good entertainment. Certainly magical to read fiction about them because they allow so much freedom for the imagination.

Ps. @thelastaerie PLEASE do a fiction inspired by their other films together (wink wink that military one I can't watch because ffs I don't speak German -yet)

Apologies if this post is utter shite, I'm in the back of a moving car about to chunder and can't put my thoughts into coherent sentences. The main idea is somewhere round here.

#freier fall #free fall #marc borgmann #german film #max riemelt #hanno koffler #kay engel

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oldguy56-world · 9 months ago

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Oops!... I Did it Again

There has been a lot of stupidity being displayed lately. A lot. This is not surprising considering how many stupid people there are in the world. (I go back to a quote from one of my favorites George Carlin: Think about the average stupid person in the world then realize that half the people are more stupid than that.)

There have been some major in the news incidents like the people who went to Turks and Caicos with ammunition in their luggage. They (and the majority of the media in the U.S.) were stunned when they were arrested. Same goes for Britney Griner who carried illegal drugs into Russia or just this weekend where Nicki Minaj was detained for having illegal drugs in her luggage.

I could go down that road of celebrity sense of entitlement but that is being too generous. Let's call it what it is: Stupid people doing stupid things. There has also been a rash of people driving their cars into stationary buildings. I cannot think of a plausible explanation for that one. How do you miss an entire building?

There will always be stupid people in the world. It is part of natural selection. Unfortunately most of us do not live in an area where they would be eaten by a predator and their defective line of genes would be mercifully ended. What can we do? To quote another comedian Ron White; 'You can't fix stupid.' (Yes I watch a lot of comedy on TV. Surprised? If you are you may find this blog hits close to home.)

The best thing we can do is to avoid these people completely. Don't hang out with them as they might get you killed. Some have been friends since childhood you say? Well there were even signs back then of what to expect out of them. If it is too late for you to disconnect from these people at least teach your kids how to spot them. Here are some early telltale signs of stupidity.

They get their head stuck in a railing twice the same day. The second time was demonstrating to others how it happened the first time.

They move into their teens and still have Velcro running shoes because laces are too confusing.

At least one time they had their tongue stuck on something metal in the winter. Really stupid if they did it having just watched 'A Christmas Story'.

They eat paste as a kid. This leads to sniffing glue which leads to smoking weed which leads to heroin which leads to having no brain cells left.

Their parents are stupid. Easy to spot this as they were brother and sister at one point in their lives. They also bought a MAGA hat thinking it stands for 'Meteorologists Always Get Ahead.'

They can't count to ten using both hands. The switch from left to right is puzzling and they start subtracting.

You start school in kindergarten together and by grade 6 they are with your brother in class and he is two years younger than you.

At some point in their life they have shaved a cat.

If you don't recognize stupid I hope you enjoyed this very perplexing blog.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: I will finish with my last quote of the week from that philosopher Forrest Gump: 'Stupid is as stupid does.'

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the-phoenix-heart · 2 years ago

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Cali- ✘△☎☢

Lmao, aight let's go! For this ask meme.

✘ Have they ever committed a murder?

Oh for sure. I don't think there is a personification alive except perhaps the micronations that hasn't at some point had to fight in war and kill somebody. But if we're talking about regular, garden variety murder, then also yes. The Wild West was a crazy time, as were the 20s, as were the 60s...There is blood in California's ledger that he feels immense guilt about, and perhaps even more guilty that he doesn't feel more guilty.

△ Name one thing from their past that they regret.

There's so many. The drug abuse is the big one. From the 1920s-1980s he had an on again off again relationship with alcohol and drugs. He died a lot from overdosing, and only briefly stopped in the 40s and 50s. He's been on a streak of sobriety for about thirty years at this point and his sobriety chips are some of his most prized possessions but...Immortality is a bitch and so likely he'll start drinking wine and smoking weed, but he'll probably limit it to just that.

☎ How would they react to receiving a phone call from a deceased love one?

Weird shit happens to Cali all the time. Technically Florida has called him before after last he saw him he was dead multiple times, and that's just normal for Cali. But to receive a call from someone who was actually dead...His first assumption would be anger and assuming it's a prank call. If he managed to realize it was real then it would be horror and revulsion...and fascination and hope. Hope that this means they're back alive. And he would also hope they weren't going to drag him into the afterlife. Hopeful fear would be the best way to word it.

☢ Would they survive an apocalyptic situation?

Ha ha. HA HA. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

Mur knows what this is about. In an apocalyptic situation if he's on his home turf he'll do well. He may in fact thrive as more than other states he has many connections and resources and power. If a power vacuum happened then he would swiftly insert himself there. But that's assuming he's on his home turf and can fortify himself. If he isn't on his home turf and is left out in the apocalyptic area to survive by himself then he'd last longer than you think. And honestly it would probably be better for him. On his home turf he'd probably start to oh I don't know lose his mind? Go a little crazy and power hungry? However if he were in the middle of the apocalyptic zones he'd have at least one thing to fight for (finding the other states, getting home, surviving, etc.) and that would help him keep his mind as he took focused on staying alive to let himself think any deeper than today. Plus he is genuinely skilled with a gun and this would be a chance for him to use that again.

#ask meme #i PROMISE i'll post the apocalypse AU soon #wttt california #welcome to the statehouse #welcome to the table #wttt #wttsh #the table #california my dark little meow meow

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magnificentsapcaddy · 1 year ago

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For those of you with a keen memory, you may recall that this year, my New Year's resolution was "make a brand new type of soup every month". Two months in, two soups down! This time around, we're making another Eastern European classic (though I think also lumping in France and Austria with "Eastern Europe" might be a stretch), liver dumpling soup!

There's this tendency in the Anglosphere, I think, to really turn your nose up at liver, but it's not bad. Like, for a food where saying "what am I, a version of this food?" is supposed to mean "do you think I'm the most detestable and least important thing you can imagine?", it tastes fine. I'd even be bold enough to say that it's good! This one happens to be a chicken liver-based soup, for the record - I know people use calf liver or pork liver, but I wanted to put that out there before we continue.

For the recipe, click on the readmore below!

Now, loathe though I may be to be a recipe blogger who has a big preamble before the recipe: I do have a funny little story. And besides, you can just look downscreen for the recipe without waiting for fifty thousand ads to load.

My mom's friend Jim was (and, I suppose, still is) a Slovenian-American through and through, and he married someone just like him. They both take a lot of pride in their culinary heritage, even if it seemed unimpressive to the layman; to this day, for their anniversary every year, Jim makes his wife a tray of "roasted roots" (beets, parsnips, carrots, potatoes), and one of the happiest times I ever heard him was when he found a nine-pound cabbage for $1 at a farmer's market (for his wife's birthday, this time). So, naturally, at their wedding, they had a very traditional Balkan spread served for the dinner.

To the shock and horror of some (but not all), the starting course was a hearty bowl of liver dumpling soup. Jamie was one of those counted among the "not all". Jamie was every bit as eccentric as Jim was Slovenian, and by eccentric, I mean "he smoked a lot of weed". Characteristically, he showed up to Jim's wedding high as a kite. When he found out the starting course was liver dumpling soup, he was beyond ecstatic. It amused him to no end. As the seating began for the reception, Jamie started a chant: "Liver dumpling soup! Liver dumpling soup! I'm gonna get me some liver dumpling soup!". Being told to quiet down by my grandfather did little to dissuade him. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect - by the time the first bowls were being served, Jamie - a thirty-something man, mind you - was skipping up and down the aisles, clapping his hands and doing backflips, leading the venue in the chant, "LIVER DUMPLING SOUP! LIVER DUMPLING SOUP! WE'RE GONNA GET US SOME LIVER DUMPLING SOUP!"

This, sadly, is not the recipe from that infamous night at the Slovenian lodge; I am taken to understand that that soup had a flour-based dumpling with chunks of pre-cooked chicken liver. This, instead, is a bit of a looser dumpling with egg and breadcumbs, more akin to the meatballs in a wedding soup, but is certainly still worthwhile.

INGREDIENTS

Dumplings: - 7 ounces raw chicken livers - 1/2 teaspoon marjoram - 1 teaspoon minced garlic - 3/4 cup plain breadcrumbs - 1 egg - Salt and pepper to taste

Broth: - 3 cups of water (more or less, as desired) - 1 tbsp butter - 1/3 rib of celery - 1 medium carrot - 1/2 medium-large sweet onion - 2 cubes dried chicken stock - 1/2 teaspoon black pepper - 1/2 teaspoon marjoram - 1/4 teaspoon ground thyme - 1/4 teaspoon rubbed sage

DIRECTIONS

Clean your chicken livers. They should already be mostly fine by the time you purchase them, but you definitely want to take a knife and trim off the long, white strands of connective tissue that connect the lobes of the livers.

Pulverize the chicken livers in a food processor until you have achieved a fine slurry. Add in your spices and mix again.

Move the liver mixture to a bowl and add your egg and breadcrumbs before mixing once again. This will be runny - don't worry. You now are going to leave this to sit for 30 minutes or until firm. If it doesn't firm up, add more breadcrumbs.

Now with the dumpling mixture made and set aside, we can begin on the broth. This is my go-to broth for any chicken-based soup, and I hope you'll like it as much as I do. Start by putting a medium saucepan on high heat and melting your butter in it. Then, turn it down to medium-high heat, mince your onion finely, and add it in. Chop your celery and onions as desired (I always do it very finely to maximize the surface area of the vegetables and thus maximize the flavor they impart on the soup, but if the spirit moves you to leave them more chunky for a heartier soup, then go for it), and add them to the pot as well. Finally, add your spices and let cook until the pot is aromatic and the onions have begun to clear.

Add your water. I know in the ingredients I said 3 cups - I did not measure. I just made "half a pot", whatever that measurement may be. You can add more for a greater portion of thinner soup or less for a lesser portion of a more flavorful soup. Follow your heart! But whatever you do, add your chicken stock here and bring to a boil. Let cook for 8 minutes, or until the celery is very nearly fork-tender.

Now we return to the dumplings. Once the celery has mostly softened, reduce the heat from a boil to a simmer, such that the water is still steaming. Take two table spoons (they need not be literal tablespoons - just "the big spoons you use for dinner" as opposed to "the little spoons you use for dessert"). Take one spoon and scoop up half a spoonful of dumpling mixture. Submerge your spoon in the broth for five seconds, or until the dumpling has turned from pink and soft to brown and solid. With your other spoon, scoop the dumpling off and repeat the process. By the time the final dumplings are being poached in this fashion, the first ones should be beginning to float to the top.

To ensure that all dumplings are thoroughly cooked, turn the pot to high heat and bring back to a rolling boil, then decrease the heat to medium-high and cover the pot. Let cook for 5 minutes more. Pay attention to this final note, because it may be the most important part: to ensure that the dumplings have finished cooking, find the largest dumpling and remove it from the pot. Slice it in half. If there is any trace of pink, it is not done cooking; if the insides are the same shade of brown as the outside, the soup has finished cooking and is safe to eat.

I will leave you with this final note: I don't think this is a bad soup at all. I would give it a B+. However, it is a very rich soup, so this is something you may want to make for a group instead of for yourself. I thought the dumplings were delicious - they functionally taste the same as a pork meatball, but with a very distinct and very pleasant tang from the liver - but they are also very, very rich. I was so enthralled by the first bowl that I went and got a second, and by the end even I was like, "I swear to God, if I have to eat another of these stupid dumplings..."

Again, I promise you it's good, and I do sincerely hope you'll like it if you try it, but at the same time, it's best not to overexert your palate, lest you end up with a predicament as mentioned above.

#personal blatherings #recipe #recipes #soup recipe #monthly soup quest #tw food

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