#Safety Eye Wear On The Tee

[beansprean]

12x11 is one of those A- eps that woulda been an A+ if Cas was there

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

1a. Waist up of Dean on a mottled pale beige background, wearing a gray and red plaid shirt over a black tee. He is holding a pistol in both hands, pointing it at the viewer and glaring over the top of it, lip curled as he demands, "Who are you?" 1b. Reverse shot of Castiel, looking into Dean's eyes with soft concern as he casually nudges the barrel of the gun away from his face with two fingers. Cas replies, "Dean, it's me. Castiel." 1c. Reverse shot of Dean in the same position, gun now tilted away slightly from Cas's touch. Offscreen, Cas continues, "Sam called. Said you were having some...memory issues...?" Dean squints at him, lips pursed skeptically. His speech bubble has an ellipsis and text behind his head reads "processing..." in bright green techy font. 1d. Repeat. Dean's face clears, eyebrows popping up as he exclaims, "Oh!"

2a. Waist up of Dean from Cas's POV, grinning with genuine joy as he reaches both arms behind himself to tuck his gun away. He says, "Castiel, right!! You're my best friend!!" 2b. Reverse shot of Cas as Dean darts forward and throws his arms around his neck in a tight hug. Dean exclaims, "Hi, dude!" Cas's arms fly up in surprise, eyes shocked wide and cheeks flushed red as his chin is tucked into Dean's shoulder. 2c. Zoom out slightly. Blushing and smiling shyly, Cas rests his hands on Dean's back and says "Um...you're my best friend too, Dean..." Dean replies, "Haha, sweet." 2d. Zoom out to knees-up. Dean breaks the hug and leans back, holding Cas at arms length by the shoulders with a grin. His gun is now visible, stuffed barrel-down into the back of his jeans. Dean says, "Dude, you smell like ozone." Cas, arms now hanging straight at his sides and still a bit red in the face, furrows his brow and replies "Um...thank you? It's the ozone." Dean: "Ohhh..." Cas: "Dean...did you remember to put the safety on?" Dean: "The what?" /End ID

[whatbigotspost]

Every time I hear someone much older than me talking about how their shame about their bodies and weight have robbed them of all kinds of fun experiences and simple joys and delights in life, it breaks my fucking heart. Older women, in particular, have been shamed into and forced into (and perpetuated themselves) so many stupid narratives about what one "can't do" if you look a certain way. Sometimes they don't even notice it...they'll just casually be saying something like, "I would have loved to play volleyball back in school but this big ass wasn't going to look right in those shorts tee hee" and I'm like that's??? actually??? tragic???????? Especially when it's something they COULD still pursue or try but they've got a fixed mindset about it.

My 84 year old aunt really spent all of her 30s-60s believing that she COULDN'T just put on a swimsuit and enjoy the water in the summer. I have so many memories of this mindset affecting her all summer. Just casually existing by a pool in a swimsuit was something that women who looked like her Could Not Do. This is someone who broke so many gender barriers in her field, who was a pioneer and a bad ass, but who held herself back from something she truly enjoyed for DECADES because she's fat. A couple of years ago she told me how stupid she feels having thought like that now that her age has changed her mobility and safety in going to a pool and it's no longer literally possible for her to do so.

She bought the bullshit and deprived herself of happiness when it was possible, so she lost her chance at hundreds of moments of simple enjoyment she now looks back on sadly.

Really sadly.

I think this is a topic where we can literally see a huge generational change among society right now. The bitchy boomer who says something like, "oh she should NOT be wearing that" when a happy, chunky Gen Zer bops by in a crop top sounds like the death rattles of an ancient relic to most of us in younger generations. After we get over the overt hate that surges when we hear things like that, most of us can see right through that prickly exterior into the deeply damaged, sad, and vulnerable person inside who is the one that's the real problem in the equation.

And yet, while it can be easy to think, "Thank god I'm not like THAT" none of us are truly immune to the messages that are blasted in our faces all the time that still shame fatness and make us feel like we owe society a certain kind of "beauty."

Just keep an eye out for any limiting beliefs you have that are depriving you from joy and delight you want and need. As anyone like my aunt could tell you, you won't someday look back and think, "I sure am glad I didn't do what made me happy all those years!"

[jenscx]

[33] DAYLIGHT — date (not clickbait)

not gonna lie, you were a little creeped out by jimin’s staring. she had insisted on fetching you from your apartment and you nearly had to bar your roommates (mainly yena) from exiting the house with you. the girl was wearing bright red shorts with an oversized tee shirt that hung loosely on her shoulders. you felt a little overdressed with your sleeveless mid-thigh dress, but jimin seemed to be captivated with the sight. her mouth, still agape, and hilariously unmoving, didn’t close for a few seconds until she muttered out, “wow.”

you raise a questioning eyebrow at her. what a weirdo.

“uhm, are we gonna go or something?” you ask, despite your own mind throwing multiple compliments at how cute jimin looked. the girl only nodded her head fervently, a hand outstretched, “my lady.”

a giggle escapes your lips at the uncommon sight. since when do people still do such things? only jimin would. you place your hand gently in hers, relishing the warmth of her interlocked fingers.

“where are we going?”

jimin uses her free hand to gesture a ‘shh’ sign, her finger pointing upwards at her lips while they curl. you admire her red and plush lips before your eyes dart away in faux annoyance.

despite her intention of secrecy, you catch her pulling up google maps from the corner of your eye. suppressing the urge to laugh, you restrain yourself and enjoy the comfort that jimin’s hand provides. even though it was only your second time meeting up with the girl, every action with her came naturally, as if you’ve known her for twenty years.

there was an unknown feeling of hotness brewing in your stomach. it felt akin to boiling water, tipping over ever so slightly at every glance jimin gave. you gave her a long appreciative look at her silky black hair and boyish charm. something about jimin was magnetic, pulling you in without repercussions. the girl leads you from your apartment lobby to a bus stop situated nearby.

“you didn’t drive here?” you ask, shocked. did jimin not get mobbed by any fans on the way here? that was a little concerning for her safety.

jimin shakes her head, a grin tugging at her lips, “wanted it to feel like the true date experience in high school.”

it’s such a simple yet unique explanation that tugs at your heartstrings dangerously. minus the fact that you hated high school. you hide your smile, “what if i wanted to be driven around instead? like last time?”

the girl pretends to think.

“then we can do that next time.”

her response nearly makes you choke. your throat constricts and your cheeks redden at the mere thought of there being another date. since when did jimin become such a casanova? in your head, she was depicted as this loser girl who was oblivious to everyone except herself.

(you choose to ignore that fateful day that jimin had bested you in overwatch by flirting.)

the bus quickly arrives and jimin hastily pulls you in. you stumble slightly but her warm grip in your hand stablises you. the girl’s eyes scan the seats, finally spotting two empty ones.

“c’mon,” she says, almost tossing you into the seat. you wince a little at how rough her treatment was. she was treating you like a ragdoll! just throwing you around wherever she wanted.

“you don’t have to be so rough,” you chide. jimin only laughs, “i’m not being rough. i’m actually really gentle. i can be rough though, if you want me to be.”

“jimin,” you chastise, scandalised that the girl was proclaiming something suggestive so blatantly. your head twists around, checking if any of the other passengers heard jimin, but she merely giggles with faux innocence.

“don’t be such a prude,” jimin sighs.

you flick at her forehead, where some strands of her bangs expose, “don’t be such a pervert then. also, where the hell are we going?”

jimin immediately brightens up, a gleaming smile on her face as she exclaims, “there’s this street i wanna bring you to, and it’s super pretty at night. but there’s a karaoke nearby if you want to go.”

karaoke? it’s been too long since you’ve stepped foot in one. yet, the expectant twinkle in jimin’s eyes stop the rebuttal from coming out of your mouth and you find yourself nodding absentmindedly.

“awesome!” jimin punches the air excitedly. you can only stare in awe and wonder the extent of her duality. even when you had visited the cat cafe together, jimin wasn’t this outgoing. sure, she was certainly more extroverted than her onliner persona, but she still held a sense of mystery. this jimin, right in front of you, holds nothing to be curious about.

you erupt into laughter, spluttering at how stupid but endearing the girl looks. jimin eyes you strangely, “what are you laughing at?”

“i’m— i’m laughing at you!”

“me?! what did i do? is it my face? do you think my face looks funny?” jimin asks, offended. her reply only spurs more laughter from you and you can barely hold it in for the rest of the bus ride.

when you almost arrive at your stop, jimin leads you from your seat towards the doors. the girl, graciously, and so different from before, holds out a hand to stabilise you as the bus shakes. there’s a few people surrounding you, and you’re left almost clinging onto jimin’s hand for balance.

“ugh,” jimin scrunches up her nose in an adorable manner, “i can feel everyone’s body.”

“gross.”

“i didn’t mean it like that!”

the bus suddenly lunges forward, causing you to almost topple over with the unexpected momentum. luckily, jimin’s hands fly out to steady you, but she’s taller in such a way that they land on your waist, causing goosebumps to rise along the skin. you shudder at her contact, but it goes unnoticed as jimin hastily pulls you closer to her.

“holy shit, you nearly flew,” she says, shocked. you’re more concerned over the warm palms still encasing you. “uhm, yeah.”

your face heats up as jimin continues to rest her hands on your waist.

calm down, homosexual, your mind whispers.

the doors open, and jimin tugs you out of the bus, beaming as she basically hauls you towards a shady looking storefront. you halt, hesitating to go in.

“what’s wrong?” jimin asks, concerned.

you turn to her, “this looks like a place someone would hide a dead body in.”

“that’s rude,” jimin pouts, “it’s a really cheap and nice karaoke place. i wouldn’t hide your body here anyway, it’s too obvious.”

your eyebrow raises, but jimin’s insistence finally breaks your hesistation and when inside, it’s completely contrast to the exterior. bright, flashing lights all neon coloured lacing the hallways. a loud and booming collateral sound of the different songs mixed into one. even the staff, whose attire were prim and proper, not a single wrinkle in sight.

“hi! room for two please!” jimin chirps.

“karina-ssi,” the lady at the counter greets, “no winter today?”

based off their greeting, you could already tell jimin was a regular.

“nope, i brought someone new today,” jimin points at you. the lady looks at you, up, down, at your linked hands, then she breaks out into a large grin, “on a date?”

“ah… i guess you could say that…” the cuteness of jimin’s shy behaviour distracts you from the way she glances at you, scanning your reaction. the lady gestures for you to follow her, and jimin leads you along.

finally, after a few seconds of walking, the lady opens a door at the end of the hallway. jimin, naturally, flops onto the sofa, sighing happily as she takes the ipad in her hand and starts scrolling through the plethora of song choices. you sit down, further away, and observe the girl.

“you come here often?” you ask. jimin nods. “minjeong likes karaoke, and her studio apartment doesn’t really have soundproof walls, so we had to compromise by finding a spot we could sing without having fans come up to us.”

her last sentence piques your curiosity.

“you trust the staff here? they won’t leak anything?”

jimin pauses in her scrolling, “i guess so. it’s been a few months already and i haven’t had anyone come up to me. my friend works here too, part-time though.”

“oh really?”

“yeah, you know ning yizhuo?”

your eyes nearly buldge out of their sockets.

“what? ning ning? the singer? what’s— why? how are you friends with an idol?” you blurt out. jimin laughs, finally choosing a song by girls’ generation. twinkle.

“i can’t reveal all my lore now,” she smirks, bringing a microphone towards your lips, “we gotta leave some part for imagination.”

the craziest part about this whole day, isn’t the fact that jimin looks ravenous with the curl of her red lips, or how your hands ache to wrap around her body and pull her in, no, it’s none of that.

it’s the fact that jimin just said ‘lore’.

for god’s sake, why did you have to be so terribly attracted to losers?

masterlist | next

TAGLIST ! @flolio @wallfl9wer @seullovesme @twicesserafim @klvarchives @rinapomu @pandafuriosa60 @jisooftme @cwpiqwon @yoontoonwhs @limbforalimb @xen248 @r4cjh @dni-unavailable @yukianism @i3lia @ryujinsdimple @httpisaoki @haerinsloverr @masuowo @multiliker @edenzeepy @1luvkarina @yeetaberry127 @saysirhc @somedaydream @sixflame438 @drvirgus

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

[necstasy]

mentions of cannibalism; GN!reader & LEE MDNI. from this request

he’s sitting at the foot of the bed with his arms dangling between his legs. he’s staring straight ahead, the heel of his sneakers tapping against the floor rapidly with the way his leg is shaking.

you’re standing off to the side with your back against the wall. watching. observing.

observing the way the adrenaline is still working its way through his body. observing the way his hair is skewed as if hands have been in them, and his lips look a little swollen. both your doing from before. before he went out and came back like this.

his hands and clothes are covered in blood, some smeared across his face as if he’d attempted to haphazardly clear himself of the substance. you know he did. he knows you won’t kiss him when his mouth is all red, safety precautions and all.

although he’s wearing another down to his insides, he’s covered in you in the ways that matter. your perfume still lingering on his skin. a hickey, your own art, sucked into the side of his neck. a shirt you’d bought for cheap a few years ago covering his arms and back, opened in the center to reveal his star wars tee soaked in blood.

you thought he would have been too out of it to notice your ogling. but he notices you and speaks without turning his head.

“you gonna c’mere?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse like it usually is after he eats.

you hum, push your back off the wall, and move towards him.

he just stares up at you, his eyes a little wide and slightly scary. they would be scarier if you didn’t know lee. if you didn’t love lee.

he doesn’t reach for you until you raise the collar of your shirt—the one he wears—and wipes at his lips. the bottom one tugs to the side as you do, but lee sits there and lets you maneuver him however you please. then, his hands settle on the back of your thighs, he pulls you to straddle him one by one, and only when you’re sitting on his lap does he leap forward and press his lips to yours.

[nysrage]

Rollin’ To Love, Onyankapon.

synopsis: you and your friends scheduled a girls night at cascade for valentines & love seemed to roll your way.

content: romance, fluff, hard to get reader, & barely suggestive themes.

ny’s notes: so while taking a short break to reflect & improve my writing i came up with this new au inspired by @kaegetsmewetter. i advise listening to the songs i linked during their little moment to really immerse yourselves & hope you enjoy! happy love day babies! 🏹🩷

“I-I’m going to fall!”

You didn’t think your valentine’s would be going this way but it was debatable that it was better than how you’d normally spend it. This same recycled day had been the same for as long as you could remember. Just you alone in your room eating ice cream and watching your favorite movie— love jones. The few romances you had never made it past this societies ‘talking stage’ or either ended up as one of those emotionally draining situationships. It was as if love and romance never truly worked for you and only brought trouble.

Slowly you’d come to accept it, until there was a ring of your doorbell. Opening the door to your friends holding balloons, roses and some valentines cookies, “HAPPY VALENTINES BOO!” brushing past you and welcoming themselves into your home. The sight putting a smile on your face, it’d been so long that someone had done something so special for you beside your parents. “Awe y’all really didn’t have to do this..” engulfing them into a group hug and holding them tight, grateful for such attentive friends.

“Girl you deserve to feel loved on this special day too! That’s why we decided to spend the night with you.” kyndall reassured, popping one of the pink candies in her mouth.

“So go get dressed loser, we’re going to cascade!” Dallas giggled, pushing you towards your room. Whirling around in her hold with a questioning brow. “Really cascade..?”

“What.? I’m tired of the club scene and we could use some good fun like when we were teens!�� Dallas shrugged, with that soft glint of excitement in her eyes. “C’mon it’ll be fun..” kyndall coaxed, fluttering those volume lashes until you gave in. surrendering your hands in the air and walking towards your room.

“Okay, okay! No promises i’m getting in that rink tho!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh my god, i’m never letting yall convince me into coming here againn!” you whined, gripping onto your bestfriend’s jacket for dear life. Legs wobbling from the rolling skates gliding across the smooth floor not seeking to stop anytime soon, especially not with the crowd of people blocking your way to get to that safety wall you could hold onto.

Saturdays were still apparently the hottest for cascade, everyone seeking for fun outlet for the night. The flashing multicolored lights dancing around the walls and floors, as you and your friends entered. A upbeat set of early 2000’s song blasting over the speakers, as you waited in line to secure a pair of skates. “girl, girl girl. the niggas is out, look!” her constant tapping in of your arm made you finally look up. the group of skaters in particular that caught kyndall’s eye, vibing along to ray j’s ‘sex can i’ with their routines. the front two standing out from the rest, one with a colored buzz cut and street wear fashion. The other a fine chocolate man with a white fitted polo tee that hugged his slim-muscular build, and head full of soft deep waves. Beautiful smile still white and flashing even beneath the hues that illuminated the floor.

“Yeah, we got to get to that floor. Now.” kyndall swooned, grabbing her skates and footing towards the nearest bench to get them on.

“Damn bitch. wait for us!” Dallas laughed, the two of you following behind your eager friend.

Leading you right to this moment, settled into an uneasy stance and terrified of the little control you had over your legs right now. Skates clunking against one another as you tried your best to glide smoothly across the floor. “you got it, glide one foot after the other..” Dallas instructed, but it just seemed as if your uncoordinated body just couldn’t get with it. Wobbling above the laminated floor. Hands wrapped tightly around hers as a effort to keep yourself steady and upright, praying that you wouldn’t eat up the floor.

“Okay, m’gonna let go.” Dallas nodded, eyes on yours as she slowly released your hand. “Don’t overthink it boo.” Your body wobbling a little before it steadied as you continued to roll slowly. “I-I think i got it..” you breathed out, hand cautiously out in front of you.

“Think you’ll be good while i take a few quick laps?” She questioned and you nodded, waving her off trying to concentrate on keeping yourself steady. Counting your steps to yourself as you try not to fall on your ass in front of the big ass crowd of people. Smiling to yourself at the slightest improvement and increase in speed until another skater brushed past you, bumping into your side with a scoff. “Girl move your non-skating ass out the rink, tryna be seen n’ shit..”

Tripping over your skates and stumbling forward when suddenly a quick hand caught your arm. One strong hand resting on your waist and steadying your body before your feet could’ve swept up off the ground. “woah, you good ma?” A shaky breath left your lips as you brush your crimped hair from out of your face, “Yea, i-i’m just gonna—” refusing to look up, rolling away with a face full of embarrassment. Strong hand still holding onto your arm until you sat firmly along the bench. “Don’t trip, it’s a lot of people showing out for the crowd.”

“Slow sets the best to roll to.”

If it was even possible you became more embarrassed once your eyes met the person talking to you, The man being one of the smooth skaters that led one of the groups from earlier. Now that he was up close you could take him in fully, from his perfectly sculpted jawline to his tattoo covered arms. Those pearly white canines covered with custom open faced grills on display as he expressed his love for slow sets. barely even realizing you’d been staring awkwardly as you looked him over, but he paid it no mind just properly introducing himself to you. “Shit my bad I’m onyankapon, most just call me ony tho.”

“y/n.” briefly introducing yourself, “i can’t see how y’all do all this without falling on your ass..” you huffed, frustrated from the short time you spent out in the rink.

Ony laughed at your cute little pout, taking a seat next to you. He couldn’t lie you caught his eyes from the moment he saw you. Pretty skin glowing beneath the illuminated lights as you cautiously rolled within the crowd of people, lip tucked behind your pretty teeth with focus in your eyes. “Been doing this since grade school, plenty of practice.”

“but you just feel and move with the beat” he further explained, pointing out the many people that demonstrated his words. “Don’t think just let your body do all the work and it’ll come to you..”

The dj mixed into a slow set, the lights dimming into soft romantic hues as the ‘unthinkable’ remix by alicia keys and drake began blasting through the speakers. Mood quickly setting in as the skaters eased into the tempo, dj extending the intro as he shares his quick sentiment over the mic. “This for all my single people that hadn’t quite found that one, or even haven’t found the right words to say your ready for more. but ima help you get to ‘em tonight!”

Unbeknownst it was a song the both of you found yourselves listening to quite often these days. Not knowing when that right person would come into your life and changing that lonely destiny you found yourself believing more and more. Mindlessly swaying to the beat, ony gave you a quick glance before standing with his hand held out for you. Your eyes widening in panic when he suddenly ask you to skate with him but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, not when this had been that meant to be feeling this exact song had spoken of. Not waiting for him to finally get his one on one time with you eventually while he was in his element, and if he had to take the lead then he’d do exactly that.

“oh, no, no, no.” reaching back for a seat that was no longer in your grasp, ony shooting that same charming smile that caught your sights earlier as he pulled you onto the floor against your will. “i got you pretty, you trust me..?”

A small look of uncertainty occupying your face as you look over the crowd of skaters that vanished as you look back into his sincere eyes, giving in and uneasily skating forward to get closer to his towering form. Ony met you halfway and suavely spun your body into his, arms snaking around your waist as you took a slow unsteady breath as his hands rest just above your inner thighs. Heart thumping wildly in your chest as your body grows warm from those minuscule touches. Mind filled with nothing but him in that moment, that intoxicating jimmy choo cologne took over your senses as his protective arms tightened around you. Body turning to putty as you practically melting into his arms, nothing but a soft whisper leaving your lips.

“ony..”

“just focus on me…” warm breath fanning against your skin as his lip brushed the shell of your ear, keeping you pressed flush against him. Helping guide your movement to the slow rhythmic beat of the song, your small soft hands resting atop of his comfortably. Body submissively relaxing into his as you following his lead, swaying in sync as the two of you lose yourselves in a sensual stroll “there you go, feel the beat.” tapping softly to the beat against your thigh.

Maintaining a steady speed as if there were no one else in the building but the two of you. Strolling together for the rest of the night until the dj came to a satisfied close, happy with the outcome his slow sensual set had for the day of love. The two of you walking out the building together as the muffled music leaking through the doors. “Thank you for tonight.” you smiled, nervously pushing a loose crimp behind your ear. “Your a really good instructor.”

“Well I had a good partner.” he chuckled, that charm of his now in full swing “If you ever wanted to learn some more moves, I could give you my number..”

“Maybe even make into a little weekly date.”

“Maybe..” you hummed, looking him over as you backed away towards your friends. “same day and time next week?”

“bet, I never got your number tho.” reaching for his phone, as you giggled in the distance. Testing his patience on how much time and effort he’d really put into getting to know you, Opening the passenger door with a small smirk. “I know, see you next week ony..”

Leaving ony nothing but the memory of you and a mental note to be here waiting for you the next week.

[urhoneycombwitch]

foreword: just a lil roommate!eddie x reader blurb loosely based on this anon. lead up to phone sex, +18 mdni as always

wc: 600

___

The plastic of your landline phone has warmed to the temperature of your cheek, and your limbs feel heavy under the weight of your quilt. On the other end of the line, Eddie sighs in similar repose, six states away.

“Gareth still snores, for the record. Not even the van’s engine can drown him out.” He’s lamenting over missing you as a roommate, telling you all the worst parts of sharing small vehicle spaces and shitty motel rooms with a bunch of boys.

Corroded Coffin still has four more stops on their tour, and Eddie’s finding the traveling life of an independent artist nigh unbearable.

You hum, mock sympathetic. “Poor you. Would hate to be drowning in a pool of groupies and drinking myself blind every night.”

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, goodnaturedly. There’s a rustling on the other end, as if he’s lying down to get more comfortable. “You know you’re my only groupie. And besides, the boys went out in their cups tonight, not me. I’m by my lonesome in the room right now.”

You can picture him clearly in your mind’s eye, stretched face-up on the mattress, band tee riding up to reveal the dark happy trail you’ve caught glimpses of before. Saliva pools in your mouth; you have to swallow before responding. “Wow. Refused a wild night on the town just to call me?”

“Sweetheart, don’t act like you don’t know you’re my favorite person to spend time with.”

The sincerity in his voice makes you squirm. Feeling suddenly too hot and restless underneath the covers, you shove them down past your hips for some air flow. “I’m flattered. Bet you say that to all the fans, just to get in their pants.”

“Nah. Just you. And besides, it’s working, isn’t it?” Eddie’s voice gets gravelly. There’s the distinct sound of jeans getting unzipped, then faded rustling. A sharp, quick inhale, then- “What are you wearing?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, humorous even while you scold, “Perv.” Your fingers toy with the lace band of your underwear, giving it a snap you hope is audible. “You really need sex that bad, you’re calling it in?”

“S’different with you.”

Eddie’s fucking up the routine. It’s supposed to go like this, when he’s gone- he waits a few days to call, then when he does, you both keep up the pretense of regularity with the usual bickering. And then it devolves into phone sex.

He’s not supposed to bring up how much he misses you, and he’s certainly not supposed to say, out loud, that you’re different than the rest.

Your fingers are frozen on the soft plane of your stomach, heart thumping wildly in your throat.

Eddie must realize his mistake, the ice where he’s skated out past undefined boundaries spiderwebbing cracks. He retracts, lies flat again, a smooth recovery in the form of an appeasing sigh before saying, “Sorry. Just miss you. Gonna tell me what you’re wearing or am I gonna have to use my imagination?”

“God forbid.” Relief floods your system, fingers gliding easily underneath the line of your panties with the safety of familiarity. “You’ve probably got me in fishnets and heels. Hate to burst your skeevy bubble, but I haven’t done laundry in a week. I’m in an old t-shirt and plain Jane undies.”

Eddie makes a soft, seeking noise that makes the heartbeat between your legs pulse. “For the record, I was imagining you naked, but this works, too.”

“Y’gonna come back soon and do my laundry?” It’s getting harder to speak, breathy little whines intermixed, pad of your finger collecting the arousal seeping from your core to drag it upwards. “Always do it better’n me.”

“Oh, yeah.” In answer to your own noises, there’s the wet sound of Eddie’s fist around his cock, moving in steady rhythm. “Next week and I’m yours, babe. I’ll use the good stuff. Fabric softener. You name it-”

“Fuck.” It’s searingly domestic dirty talk. You’ll be coming undone in minutes and he goddamn knows it. Your finger swirls, breath catching again, and Eddie coos encouragement down the line.

“That’s right, sweetheart. You’re all I wanna hear.”

[ali-r3n]

Cuddle

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Based on this post by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Fluff, Language

Y/N loved cuddling Eddie, she really did. The feeling of safety that she experienced being in his arms and the way the beating of his heart lulled her to sleep. The only caveat was the guy was a fucking furnace.

During the winter, when the freezing Indiana wind nipped at her nose she loved burying her face into his chest and bask in the head he exuded. However in the summer it was stifling.

"I'm cold," he whined as he curled himself around her. His nose buried in the crook of her neck.

He was always cold. He'd wear a leather jacket and his beloved battle vest over his Hellfire Club shirt in the middle of goddamn summer and not once break into sweat...

unlike Y/N currently.

"I'm not," she muttered into the pillow. Her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Before they cuddled, she had changed into a pair of his boxers and one of his band tees. Meanwhile, Eddie wore flannel pajamas pants and a black pullover hoodie.

She could only handle a total of 10 minutes before the heat got to be too much and she shoved him off. She released a deep breath at the feel of the refreshing cool air of the AC on her damp skin.

Y/N looked over at Eddie who had a pout on his face, his eyes wide and pleading like a kicked puppy.

It made her heart clench and she sighed. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm around her waist.

Eddie tightened his hold and tugged her back against his chest. He grinned and nuzzled the back of her hair with his nose, breathing in the smell of his shampoo in her soft locks.

"I love you, Sweetheart."

"I love you too," she murmured as more sweat began to bead on her forehead. An endearing smile still spread on her face.

Despite the heat, she loved cuddling her Metalhead.

[skbeaumont]

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader Series

Chapter 5 – Intensity

Series masterlist

Chapter Summary: Tuesday comes round, and it's all you can do to hold on tight and ride it out. Rating: Explicit Tags/warnings: flirting, sexual tension, smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU!No outbreak, oral (m & f receiving), PIV. Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I am so sorry this chapter has been such a long time coming. Hopefully all the smut will make up for it?? Because this is literally 3.5k of pure filth.

“I think the problem is,” Gina tells you early Monday morning as she wipes down the counters, “I’ve just lost all my confidence since the divorce.” “Right,” You reply absently, catching Diana’s eye and smiling.

It’s just gone ten and the café is fairly quiet, a few customers sat in contented silence at spaced out tables. Gina’s been regaling you and Diana with tales of her love life, which as far as you can gather seems to mainly centre around lusting after the men who frequent the café, Joel included.

“Take that construction worker,” Gina continues, “you know, the one you live next to,” she adds to you, “dark hair, broad, real handsome.”

“Oh we know him.” Diana replies, raising a single eyebrow at you as you feel yourself flush.

You’ve already told her about Saturday night, about the way Joel kissed you against the wall of the Cuthbert’s house, his warm hands moulded to your curves like he never wanted to let you go.

“Well, I’ll bet if I just had the confidence to ask him, he’d love to take me to dinner. And I’ll bet we’d have a real nice time.” She offers a cringeworthy wink at you both, and it’s all you can do not to burst into laughter.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Diana replies, and you roll your eyes at her as she smirks back.

Gina continues in this vein for some time, her voice washing over you as you help Diana refill the coffee beans and clean up the machines. She stops talking abruptly, voice suddenly shifting into that familiar sickly-sweet lilt that has you spinning on your heel to see who’s just come in.

Joel’s wearing his toolbelt. There’s sawdust covering his black tee, biceps bulging at the sleeves, his dark jeans slung low around his hips. His hair is pushed back off his face, sawdust speckled in the dark curls there too, and he’s got a pair of safety goggles perched up on his forehead. Only he could make the whole ensemble look good, but it works so well that the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat, heat broiling up in your gut. Gina’s all smiles and simpering niceties, but Joel’s staring straight past her, his eyes locked on yours as he orders his coffee (Americano, no cream).

Gina hands you the receipt and tries to keep Joel engaged in conversation, but his attention is all on you, even as you turn to the machine to make the coffee.

“Hi, darlin’” He says, and the easy way one side of his mouth turns up into a lopsided grin makes your stomach flip.

“Hi,” you reply, hand pausing on the coffee grinder as you let yourself take in his mussed up hair and dishevelled attire. “Working hard?”

“Always am,” He says, resting a hip against the counter to lean closer to you.

Even with several feet between you you can smell the wood-chip scent of him; you don’t think anything’s ever smelt as good. He raises a hand, runs it through his hair to rake beading sweat off his forehead. You wonder absently what it would be like to press your tongue to the underside of his jaw, to lick the moisture from his skin there.

“How’s your day?” His voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you pull your eyes away from his jaw.

“Picked up in the last few minutes.” You say, and he lets out a huff of a laugh, drags his gaze over your face, his eyes dark despite the bright sunlight streaming in through the café’s windows.

“We still on for tomorrow?” He asks.

“Definitely. I hope Sarah’s looking forward to it.”

“Oh, she is. She can’t wait, in fact.”

This time it’s you who laughs, air rushing out of your chest in a higher-pitched giggle than you intended. You finish making Joel’s coffee, push it across the counter to him, leaving your hand around the cup so that his fingers brush yours as he reaches to take it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’” He says, raising the cup to you in a goodbye salute and turning to leave.

When you turn back to your co-workers, they’re both staring at you. Gina’s mouth is slightly open, her brow furrowed, while Diana’s beaming, her eyes full of mischief. You shrug at them and start making the next coffee.

*****

Maths with Sarah on Tuesday turns into a movie on the sofa after dinner, bowls of popcorn on each of your laps, the low evening sun streaming into the lounge. Joel comes back halfway through, clattering into the kitchen and calling out his arrival.

“You two look like you’ve both been working hard,” he says, coming into the lounge, a grin playing on his face.

You can see from here that his grey t-shirt is damp with sweat, dark under the arms and along his sternum. Something flutters in your chest and you squeeze your thighs together, drag your eyes along his broad shoulders and down to the narrow cinch of his waist.

“Well, we did some equations,” Sarah tells him, pausing the film so that the picture flickers and jumps about on the screen, “but it was too hot to think very much.”

“You should try bein’ out in the sun layin’ concrete all day.” He replies, flopping down onto the sofa between you and Sarah, kicking his legs out to prop his boots up on the coffee table.

He smells like dust and sweat and something you’re starting to recognise as distinctly Joel, a warm, masculine scent that ignites a fire in your belly. Sarah unpauses the film, leans back in her seat to rest her head against the worn leather.

“Hi,” Joel says quietly under the sound of the movie, turning his head so that his face is a few centimetres from yours.

“Hi,” You reply.

His eyes are sparkling, brown almost swallowed up by the black of his pupils.

“Good day?” You ask.

“It’s picked up in the last few minutes,” He replies, and you grin at him, let your eyes trace the solid planes of his face, the gentle creases that line his eyes.

The film plays on. Joel’s denim-covered thigh is pressed against yours, the heat of his skin burning into your bare leg despite his jeans. Sarah’s engrossed in the action playing out on the television, but you and Joel are distracted, sneaking glances at each other like teenagers. His arm is a solid weight against your shoulder, the thick heft of his bicep impossibly firm and warm.  When the climax of the film happens you and Sarah both jump, each automatically shifting to crowd in against Joel. Your hand ends up pressed to his stomach, just below his bellybutton. He looks at you and you move your hand away quickly, all too aware of Sarah on the other side of him, giggling now that the tension has broken in the film.

When the credits roll Sarah yawns widely, stretching in her seat.

“Bedtime, baby girl,” Joel tells her, pushing her up off of the sofa and getting to his feet himself, “c’mon,” he says, “I’ll tuck you in.”

“Night,” Sarah says to you, yawning again and heading up the stairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Joel tells you and you watch as he and Sarah disappear upstairs, their chatter fading as they go.

Alone in the lounge again, you look around and observe the domesticity of the house. Your trainers are by the back door next to Sarah’s battered Nikes, Joel’s work boots dwarfing both pairs on the mat. There’s a stack of magazines on the coffee table, Sarah’s old favourites and two new additions – a copy of Mathematics Today and Scientific America. You smile at the familiar covers, remembering how excited Sarah was to show you them a few hours ago, telling you that Joel helped her pick them out in the shop.

You look out over the drive to where Joel’s truck is parked. It’s only been a few short weeks since he picked you up at the airport, a stranger to you then but now someone whose very presence fills your chest with a kind of low, humming joy.

Joel’s hardly back down the stairs before his hands are on you, pulling you to him in the dim light of the lounge. He presses his lips to yours, sighs into your mouth like he’s a man drowning and you’re an oasis. You slide your tongue against his bottom lip and he opens up to you, lets you into the hot slick of his mouth, a groan swallowed in his throat as you thread your fingers into his hair, pushing your hips against his so that his belt digs into your stomach.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about that kiss, darlin’,” He says as you pull at his t-shirt, fingers grasping the solid expanse of his chest. “the things I wanted to do to you, want to do to you.”

“Show me,” You say into his mouth, slotting your lips back together.

He walks you to the sofa, slumps down into it and pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling his thighs. He looks so good like this, his face cast in the gentle glow of the table lamps, eyes dark and studying you intensely. You tug his shirt up, press your hands beneath it to the warm flesh of his stomach. He’s all muscle and hot skin, abdomen flexing as you graze your fingernails over his bellybutton as he takes your face in his hands, draws your lips back to his and kisses you soundly. His tongue slides against yours. Fire builds in your belly, hot and insistent.

Large hands running down over your shoulders and sides, Joel pulls you to him so that you shift in his lap, grinding down. The movement brings your inner thigh into contact with the hammer that’s hooked onto his toolbelt and you yelp, both laughing as he unclips the belt and pulls it off.

“I wanted you to keep that on,” You tease, grinning at him as you tuck a stray curl of his hair behind his ear.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating in his chest, deep and delicious. The next kiss is more insistent, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip, sharpness grazing soft skin. You shift in his lap again, press yourself closer to him, whimper at the friction that pulls at the apex of your thighs. He pulls back, runs the tips of his fingers under the hem of your t-shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, and the earnestness of it, the desire that’s so clear in his eyes makes your stomach flip.

You nod, pulling the shirt up and over your head, letting it fall to the floor behind you. Joel’s eyes rake over your chest, his steady gaze tracing the curves of your breasts and hips. You should feel self-conscious, but his expression is rapture, his dark eyes wide and reverent.

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, darlin’” he says, grazing the backs of his fingers along your collarbone, down the centre of your breasts and over the band of your bra. You reach behind you to unclasp it, let it fall into your lap, breasts spilling out into Joel’s palms. He groans in the back of his throat, large hands kneading the soft flesh of you, searching out the bud of your nipples, pinching them between finger and thumb. Electricity shoots through you, white-hot pleasure that has slick pooling between your thighs. You cant your hips forward again, feel the hard line of his cock in his jeans, grin as Joel reacts by hissing through his teeth.

When he slides one hand over the crest of your ass and pulls you to him, hard, you both moan at the friction, hands suddenly scrabbling to remove more layers of clothing.

You stand to push your jeans down your legs, kicking them off as Joel unbuttons his flies. Instead of climbing back into his lap, you drop to your knees in front of him, run your hands up the thick trunks of his thighs and replace his shaking fingers with your own, dragging his jeans down until they pool at his ankles.

Clad only in a pair of tight-fitting boxers, Joel is a sight to behold. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, breath coming in short pants as you trace your fingertips up his thighs, watching the muscles in his shoulders and arms tense with each move you make. His cock twitches when you lick a deliberate stripe up the inside of his thigh, and he curses, face flushed.

“Christ, darlin’, you’re gonna kill me.” He breaths, and you grin up at him, slide your fingers into the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down.

His cock slaps up onto the tight muscles of his stomach, long and thick, head already beading precum. You waste no time wrapping a hand around the thick heft of him, placing a gentle kiss on the tip. When you let your tongue dart out to taste him Joel curses again, “shit,” – the worda desperate prayer, distorted by the desire in his voice. Then you take him into your mouth, jaw aching with the size of him, working your hand around the part that won’t fit, and Joel sags against the couch, head rolling back with pleasure. It sends fire rushing through you to watch the effect you have on him. He lifts his head, meets your eyes with his own and you use your tongue to trace the delicate place just behind the head of his cock, moving back just slightly when this causes his hips to twitch involuntarily.

“You feel so good,” he says, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “your mouth feels like heaven, baby.”

You hum around him, use your free hand to gently trace circles into the tight skin of his stomach, grazing your nails up and over his chest. When you take him deep into your throat, swallowing around him he bucks into your mouth and pulls back.

“Not gonna last like this,” he warns, moving back, away, “fuck, darlin’, I want to make you feel good, c’mon.”

He pulls you up and off his cock, lays you back against the worn couch, settles himself between your open thighs and drags your legs up so that they’re resting on his shoulders. You’re sure your underwear is soaked through, and Joel confirms it when he drags a knuckle against your core, tells you how wet you are, whispers it into your thigh like a prayer.

“Gonna let me make you feel good, darlin’?” He asks, slipping the crotch of your panties to the side so that he can run two thick fingers through your folds.

“Please, Joel,” Is all you can reply, words dying on your lips when he leans forward and buries his face in your cunt.

He eats you out like he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re an oasis. Runs his tongue against your clit in a way that has your legs shaking in seconds, then pulls back, presses his aquiline nose into the centre of you, uses his tongue to lick a broad stripe over you. He sucks your clit into his mouth, grins against you as you tell him “yes, there, right there,” and keeps up a steady pace that has you canting your hips against him. When he presses a thick finger into your cunt and curls it just so you feel yourself coming suddenly, the coiling tension snapping and fire burning through you right to your fingertips.

“You look so good when you come,” he tells you as you come down from your high, pressing kisses into the trembling flesh of your thighs.

He pulls you up from the sofa, holds you to him.

“Upstairs?” You say into the side of his throat, gasping when he bends suddenly to pick you up, cradling you to his chest like you weigh nothing.

He takes the stairs two at a time, opens the door to his bedroom with a flick of his wrist and lays you on the unmade bed. The first thing you notice is that sheets smell like him – like wood shavings and mint shower gel and that characteristic Joel smell that you’ve come to love so much. Then he’s laying himself over you, pressing your bodies together so that you’re a tangle of limbs, mouths seeking each other out. The kiss is somehow gentle and desperate at once, his teeth grazing your lip before his tongue soothes you.

“Joel, please,” you say, hands tracing the broad span of his shoulders, nails digging in when he hitches his hips, drags the hot line of his cock against your hip, drags his thigh up so that it pulls against the seam of your cunt.

“What do you want, darlin’?” He asks against the side of your neck.

“You,” You tell him, and he laughs, voice husky with pleasure.

“You want my cock?” He says, dragging his teeth over the juncture of your shoulder.

“Yes, god, yes, please.”

“Alright, baby, alright.”

He pushes himself up onto his knees, leans across to pull a condom out of the bedside table. He opens it with his teeth, eyes fixed on your body spread out against the dark duvet and rolls it on. Then he’s lining himself up, leaning back over you to whisper soothing nothings into your ear as he shifts his hips forward just slightly. The head of him catches against your cunt, dips inside so that both of you gasp. He’s big – bigger than you’re used to – and the stretch is intense as he cants his hips forward into yours. You whimper into the side of his throat, clench your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You okay?” He asks as he stills, bottoming out and pushing himself up onto his elbows to look at you.

“Yeah,” You say, pulling him back to you so that you can kiss him, pulling back to add, “move, please.”

“Just give me a second,” He says, letting his head drop to your shoulder and you giggle despite yourself, press your lips to the shell of his ear. “You’re – fuck – you feel really good.”

It shouldn’t be so hot, the way that you can reduce him to such a babbling mess just with the slightest clench of you cunt around him but it is, it makes something hot and insistent bubble up in your belly. Joel drags his nose against the column of your throat, bites into the flesh there and then finally – finally – pulls his hips back and presses back inside.

The friction is delicious. He settles into a steady rhythm, every thrust of his hips dragging the head of his cock against that spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. His moans against your neck are delicious, peppered with phrases of praise that make you clench around him: “fuck, good girl, so fucking tight, I could stay in this pussy forever, baby.”

He slows again, pushes himself up onto his knees, keeping his cock in you. His eyes are fixed on the place where you meet, where the wet, tight heat of you pulls him in. He flicks his dark gaze up to your face, expression dazed and pussy-drunk. He leans down to slide his tongue against yours briefly, then sits back up and continues to fuck you, slowly, placing a large hand on your stomach and expertly circling your clit with his thumb. The pleasure is unbelievably intense, the drag of his cock inside you combined with the white hot pressure of his thumb, and in seconds you’re convulsing under him.

“You gonna come on my cock, darlin’?” He asks, voice breaking on the last word, and it’s enough to push you over the edge again, vision whiting out as pleasure overwhelms you.

You feel yourself clenching around Joel’s cock and with a few more sloppy thrusts he’s there too, callused fingertips digging into your hips as he comes inside you, cock twitching, breath hitching in his throat. He collapses onto you, presses open-mouthed kisses against your flushed cheeks.

You lie still for a few more moments, each catching your breath. When he rolls off you he drags you with him, keeps you cradled to his chest as he pulls out. It’s hot in the bedroom but you don’t care, draping yourself over Joel’s chest, pressing yourself as close to him as you can.

Outside, the sky has turned dark. Joel traces circles into the skin of your shoulders, down your arms, presses kisses to the side of your head. The bed is a tangle of limbs and hot, damp flesh.

Yes, you think, the Texas heat is sure is intense.

Taglist: @mysterialee@amyispxnk @ghostofzion-blog @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @sarahhxx03 @brittmb115 @merz-8 @marianastudiesart @moel-jiller @lizzie-cakes @kyloispunk @isalovesharryyy

[wvnrqs]

peach eyes.

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ⬭ park jeongseong · fem reader 199w fluff warnings kissing

notes. sorry it’s kind of short TOT

"oh. oh my god."

park jeongseong, despite seeing you in practically every clothing piece you owned, had never seen you in his.

you were wearing his nirvana tee, which was obviously too big on you — it went down to the top half of your thigh. 

it was 7 in the morning when he saw you.

you were making pancakes, too engrossed in making them to notice your boyfriend gaping at your figure from behind. 

you suddenly felt arms snaking around your waist. 

"park jeongseong!" you gasped slightly, only glancing at him for a second. "the stove is on! unless you want to burn this house down…" you nagged.

you could feel his head shaking incessantly because he had buried his face into your shoulder.

 "you look pretty today…" he mumbled, kissing your collarbone.

you laughed, softening. "you like the outfit?" you asked, yet not taking your eyes off the pan. (safety for the BOTH of you was number one priority!)

in a quick motion, jay had switched off the stove and had already spun you around to face him.

he attacked your soft sweet lips, his grip around your waist tightening.

"you should wear my clothes more often."

perm taglist. @bunreis @d-oyoungs @bluriki @isawritesss ( networkzZ ) @k-labels @k-films @kflixnet

[beansprean]

I adore Derek’s new gothpunk e-boy aesthetic and am sprinkling my own weeb hc on top!! I love him 😍

(Feel free to use his nakey self if you want to draw other fits on him, just don’t erase the watermark!)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Derek smiling nervously, left hand at his side and the other held up like ‘nya’. He is wearing a black studded collar, a scoop neck black shirt with crying anime eyes, bleach stained light jeans cuffed over black combat boots, and a puffy camouflage jacket with a hood. He also has fingerless gloves and several chains attached to o rings looped around his belt.

2. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark blue long sleeves shirt with thumb holes, frayed hems, and elbow patches under a tattered white tee shirt with horizontal rips that says "blood lust rave" in dripping black font. Beneath are black jeans with a studded belt and red suspenders hanging tucked into knee high burgundy leather combat boots. He has on several gold and silver rings, a tattoo choker, a studded collar, a long necklace with a few rings, and a dark red beanie.

3. Repeat. Derek is wearing a black and white striped long sleeve turtleneck under a black Otoboke Beaver tee shirt and loose black jeans tucked into white platform boots. He has several silver rings a silver chain around his neck, and another looped through several o rings around his belt.

4. Repeat. Derek is wearing a loose dark red striped sweater with a rip at the neckline affixed with safety pins, dark wash skinny jeans with multiple rips down the thighs and knees over fishnet tights, and checkered high top sneakers. He has dogtags, a pentagram necklace, and a studded collar around his neck and multiple chains, padlocks, and handcuffs hanging from his belt with o rings.

5. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark loose sweater with thumb holes, a ripped off collar connected with safety pins, and fishnet material from the waist down. It's tucked into loose black skater pants with dangling hooks and suspenders and an askew studded belt, unzipped at the calf to show red material underneath. Black converse peek out beneath the flared cuffs.

6. Repeat. Derek is wearing a white collared shirt under a black tee shirt that says “vampire weekday” in slashy red font and black jeans with red splatter on the knees tucked into red ankle boots. He has on several rings, a few chains and a padlock around his neck, and a studded belt.

7. Repeat. Derek is wearing a short sleeve dark grey button up with a white scallop pattern and rolled sleeves, unbuttoned past his sternum to show off the gold pendant around his neck. The shirt is tucked into dark wash jeans with a snakeskin belt, cuffs rolled to mid calf, a few inches above shiny burgundy ankle boots.

8. Repeat. Derek is wearing a pale lavender turtleneck with black fishnet sleeves that hook around his fingers like gloves tucked into black skinny jeans with a studded belt. He has a thick black studded collar with an o ring and a matching harness strapped across his chest, the center o ring attached to a leash he holds in his left hand. He has several chains attached to o rings at his belt and his jeans are tucked into huge black gothic platform boots with several straps.

9. Repeat. Derek is wearing an oversized black hoodie over distressed and ripped up jeans and scuffed brown hiking boots with the laces double wrapped around his ankles. His hoodie has some red lacing down the arms and at the cuffs, and at the center is a red square with a crying anime girl rendered in black with white lineart. Red text in Japanese on either side reads "lonely vampire"

10. Repeat. Derek is wearing black briefs. /End ID

[maxybabyy]

The power has been out for an hour when he finds the kid looming around in the hallway.

He’s in the same old NYU shirt that Daniel always sees him in. The shoulder seams hang loose from his frame, and there’s a giant hole in the sleeve, big enough to fit a thumb through if you tried. Max must have done that before, he thinks, chewing away at the strings. The silly plastic thing is gone too, leaving nothing but the frayed tips.

“I reckon it’s gonna be out for a while,” he says when Max just keeps staring at the emergency light flicker. The one fucking thing this shitty building actually has. Maintenance is shit, and he’s pretty sure there’s a new species of black mould growing in the hallway window. But at least their little void on the seventh floor follows the safety guidelines.

He taps his socked foot against Max’s scruffy sneakers, watches him turn around with a frown.

“I was playing with my friends, and then the electricity went out. I thought it was for me only, so I checked the fuses,” Max tells him with his hands high in the air, his fingers flicking along with his words. Daniel doesn’t even know where he would look for the fuse box in his shithole of a studio. “But it is of course the entire building. I think maybe it is the lightning,” he adds.

“Nah, the building is just shit,” Daniel tells him. “If it’s not a water leak or a fucking rat problem, it’s the power. Same old shit and they won’t fix it. Just wait until winter when the heating will go away too.”

Daniel has learned to keep himself busy when the snow starts falling. LA, in particular, is great around Christmas when New York becomes too unbearable.

“I was here in the winter also,” Max says, gestures to door where he lives like Daniel doesn’t already know. “It was so nice of you, giving me a Christmas present. I of course had not bought you anything, but you said –“

Blake had dropped off the newest batch of merch samples right around New Year’s, and they had all been shit. The design was wrong, and the colour palette was completely off. They still haven’t gotten the peach the right colour, but the other shit looks fine now. Back then Max had – he would walk around in the same fucking shirt he’s wearing now. Skinny jeans frayed at the hem in a way they aren’t supposed to be, a rolodex of white tee shirts from Target, and a thin, barely-there windbreaker to fend off the cold.

Daniel had given him the leftover merch, he had to. There was no fucking way he couldn’t do it.

He taps Max’s shoe again, watches him crack a grin before he nods his head towards his apartment. “Do you wanna come in? I just have like, a candle and shit, but we can chill until the power comes back.”

Max nods and follows him inside.

Daniel doesn’t offer him a beer, sips at the can while they both watch the flicker of the wick. He doesn’t have another candle, so this one will have to last, the whispers of sea breeze faint between them.

He’s telling Max about his latest gig – some dive bar with a shitty ironic name like Cheers or Sam’s, or shit like that – when Max reaches out to poke at the candle. His skin looks glowing in the candlelight, a warm contrast to Max’s usual pale skin. His fingers look long, elegant as they curl around the candle, his thumb stroking over the dripping wax like it was –

“Daniel?” Max prompts, eyes flickering from the wick to his face and back again, “The drummer is of course an idiot, but it went alright, you said?”

Daniel jerks back into the couch. He swallows loudly. Tries and fails to convince himself he hadn’t been zoning out on the kid’s hands like a fucking weirdo. Safety first, he thinks faintly, can’t have a fucking fire during a power outage.

Max keeps playing with the candle wax, making it drip down onto Daniel’s shitty white wood Ikea table he had carried home in the subway. But every time he touches it, Max sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth, presses down to make it run faster, and Daniel cannot find it in himself to stop him.

Max’s in the middle of a story about his family dog back in the Netherlands, when he accidentally touches the flame. He’s quick to pull back, hissing loudly as he sucks his pointer and middle finger into his mouth with a muddled, “Fuck!”

“Careful!” Daniel scolds. He’s already halfway across the couch reaching for him like a fucking mother hen. But instead of his hand, Daniel grabs onto Max’s thigh in his panic, the muscle firm in his grip. Max watches him back, flexes his thigh as he sucks the fingers deeper into his obnoxiously big, oddly fitting mouth, and Daniel cannot keep – has to look away.

Stares at Max’s knees instead, awkward and protruding and littered with odd bruises.

Daniel wonders how he got them, forces himself to think of less nefarious reasons for how they could appear. Once, Daniel had gotten so drunk that Scotty couldn’t get him to come down from the bar, dancing away until he felt dizzy with exhaustion and drink.

Back then, when his body had been young and spry, he had slammed to his knees before swinging his legs to the side to get off the bar. They had been black and blue for a week before his knees had recovered.

But Max doesn’t let him ponder for long, slides to the floor in a move impossibly fluid for someone to not have done it a hundred times over. He’s quick to reach for Daniel's jeans, one hand still spit-slick as he pulls at the zipper, and Daniel has to – cannot let him do this.

“Hey, mate,” he says, laughs nervously. “Aren’t you like sixteen or something?”

Once, he had tried to give the kid a twenty so he could buy himself some food for the night. Gaunt cheeks and lanky body a cruel reminder of his own teens. Refusing money from Grace and Joe to prove he hadn’t screwed up by running away to America to make it big.

But the kid didn’t take the money and had instead stared at him, brows drawn together much like he is now. “I’m nineteen,” he says.

“In a year or two, maybe.” Daniel scoffs. But still, he doesn’t move. Max’s hand stays on his dick, heavy and warm despite the temperature of the apartment. “Be real, man. I’m fine with you sticking around but –“

Max snarls. He stays on his knees, but Daniel cannot meet his eyes, stares himself blind where his jeans have become undone. “Always you do this. You are so kind to me, flirting with me, but then you run away when I respond!

“Now you ask me to come to your apartment, with the mood lighting also, and again you will not touch me. This is not fair, Daniel.” Max says and digs his nails into his thighs, forces Daniel to look at him – at the furious glare and the too-red lips.

It’s unfair how good he looks sitting between Daniel’s spread thighs. There’s a dusting of pale, blonde hair at the top of his thighs where his shorts have crawled up, and his entire face is flushed with emotion. It’s all Daniel can do to not put a better name to it – the death of creativity for once not a foe. His cheekbones sit high and sharp on his face, a mole on his lip revealed only when Max doesn’t bite into it, looking so fucking pretty.

Maybe that’s why he’s here of all places. Scouted off the fucking streets and put in a shitty apartment in some mirror nightmare of Daniel’s, waiting impatiently for Vogue to call.

Max is still staring at him, and Daniel doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s not going to fucking card Max in his own apartment, that’s a cunt move. Max would probably throw the card in his face, if he asked, indignant little glare before he would lean in and –

“Yeah, alright,” he whispers but it’s enough. Max hears him, and he does lean in to pull his jeans the rest of the way off.

Max takes him into his mouth, lips stretched around the head almost obscenely, and suddenly Daniel has to force himself to close his eyes shut. It’s too much already, watching Max take him even deeper into his mouth as his head thumps back against the couch. He clearly knows what he’s doing, relaxing his throat as he goes. His hands are firm on Daniel’s hips, keeping a steady pressure until Daniel gets with the programme and fucks into his mouth.

He barely has the time to let Max know before he’s coming. But Max doesn’t move, keeps him on his tongue until his mouth is full and Max has to swallow.

“Shit, Maxy,” he moans, thighs still shaking as Max climbs to his feet. “You’re not. You don’t have to –“ But Max doesn’t leave, drops into Daniel’s lap with his shorts abandoned on the floor.

Max jerks himself off with one hand balanced on Daniel’s shoulder. It’s closer than Daniel’s been to someone else’s dick in years, since Scotty got down on one knee and fucked everything up. A cock is a cock is a cock, but Max’s dick looks almost pretty held in his own fist.

It makes him think of the fucking candle from before, how the wax had dripped between his fingers, and how quick he had been to suck them into his mouth, like he had just done to Daniel, to his dick.

“Daniel,” Max begs, watches Daniel watch him fuck into his own hand desperately. “Please.”  

“Okay, yeah. I got you, Maxy.” He says and slips his fingers into Max’s mouth. It’s only the first two, but his dick still jerks at the reminder of the warm heat of Max’s mouth, the tight pressure and how his tongue cannot keep still. Max whines when he pulls them out, shoots him another furious look that is quickly replaced with a shout when Daniel brushes over his hole. “Like that, yeah?”

Max nods, eyes wide for another moment before they screw themselves shut as he comes with another sound. It’s another few minutes before Max speaks again, the words muffled against Daniel’s chest where he still hasn’t moved. “What’s that?”

Max huffs and sits upright, rubs at the spot on Daniel’s shirt where his dick has left a smear. “I said, the lights are back.” He says, gestures to the room now bathed in light.

“Oh.” Daniel couldn’t tell you when that happened, if it was before Max went to his knees or after. The candle still flickers behind them, pools of wax already hardened on the wood. “I guess they are, yeah.”

[pupyuj]

I hope you're doing okay 🙏I've been thinking lately and thought why not share it with my favorite fellow yujin simp.

just thinking about how she needs you really bad but you're at an I've practise of hers or in a dressing room for one of her performances.

Baby girl comes up to you all cutely 🥺🥺and hugs you to then whisper in your ear how badly she needs you, she's been thinking about it ALL DAY and having you so close is driving her wild.🥴

You successfully escape the said room to find a quite place to ruin her in. Telling her to be quite for you, "you don't want anyone to hear us right love?"🤭🤫

Yujin being a mess, gripping at your clothes, whining and moaning in your ear😳, bitting your neck as she's close to silence herself 'cause she knows she'd be to loud otherwise. she' s been craving you for hours and that build up + your fingers is just to much for our puppy. 🥰

Also can I be 🧇anon?

tee hee this was 🧇 anon's first ask but i couldn't work on it back then :((( SO HERE I AM :DDDD choosing the dressing room setting too cuz 👀

thinking about yujin who feels like she can't wait for you to touch her until the end of her performance so she's glued to you the entire time she and the girls were sitting patiently in their room waiting for their turn on the stage :((( her pressing her cheek against your shoulder, smiling fondly as you made jokes with jiwon and gaeul, listened intently while rei was telling a story, laughing at your stupid antics with hyunseo and wony, she was so in love with you :((( her mind turning into a puddle when you put your hand on her thigh... you didn't mean to turn her on or anything! and it wasn't your fault that she was so desperate to be fucked! 😵‍💫

her tugging at your sleeve, putting her lips close to your ear, "i really need you, unnie... i'm so wet." see, you weren't really the type to just have sex anywhere whenever you want, so you looked at her with wide eyes at first 😭😭 yujinnie thinking that she might have weirded you out, pouting and looking away, more than ready to just hold it all back until you wanted to touch her :((( but then you excused yujin and yourself to a separate, small empty room right next door 🤭 surprising yujin when you pressed her back against the wall, your knee already sneaking in between her thighs 🫠

yujin was by no means a hard sub but it was rare to see her as she is right now: needy and impatient, practically begging for you to fuck her with the way she grinded on your thigh,, "please, please, please..." she was whining so cutely ☹️ you were never able to say no to yujin... but this was such a once in a lifetime opportunity to push her over the edge for omce,, she always got what she wanted from you, so why not have fun and mess with her for now?? pulling down her safety shorts along with her panties, pressing your thigh against her bare cunt,, yujinnie thinking that you were going to fuck her hard and fast but immediately reads your intent when you started kissing up her neck,, "unnie.. un-unnie, please... just fuck me, i need you..." but she can't help liking the feeling of your lips on her skin :(((

you were careful not to leave marks, but with how weakly you were kissing her yujin only grew more desperate 🫠 she grabs one of the hands you've placed on her breasts and puts it close to her cunt but you swat her hand away, "let me have my way with you or else i'll refuse to touch you the entire day." and that seemed to shut her up quickly,, the pup needed some training anyway,, telling you all that nasty stuff while in the presence of her staff team and members! you would have found it embarrassing had someone heard her... but you'll let it pass just this once bcs yujin was being so cute 🤭

pinching her nipples through all the fabric she was wearing,, yujinnie whining so much bcs while she does feel something, it's not enough :(( humping your thigh mildly to stimulate her clit,, "oh, puppy... you're drenched... you must be really horny, hm?" teasing her after seeing the mess she's made from her wetness alone,, yujin refusing to make eye contact bcs she knew why this was such a big deal to you :((( "you gonna come just from this?" and despite being desperate to come, yujin still had this huge ass pride and refuses to give you more reasons to make fun of her so she holds her climax back,,

it wasn't going to be for long though 😈 without warning, you thrusted two fingers inside her, deeply and harshly,, yujinnie having to hold you so close to drown out her moans,, hands clutching onto your clothes so tightly you thought she was going to rip them to shreds,, "u-unnie..! unnie, unnie..!!" she was so loud 🫣🫣 but your thrusts never ceased even with the risk of being caught,, you only fucked her faster and even deeper, hitting all of her sweet spots and turning her brain into mush with each hit,, slipping a third finger in so suddenly?? spreading her cunt and using your other hand to play with her clit—god, yujin was screaming at this point...

"come lots, yujin-ah.. make this risk worth it.. you're unnie's good girl, aren't you? aren't you, puppy?"

between the nickname, the three fingers stretching her pussy so fucking well, and your breath on her neck, yujin came hard—writhing beneath you and biting your shirt as she squirted all over your fingers,,, legs shaking so hard she nearly collapses, tears squeezing out the corner of her eyes bcs of her climax :((( "thank you.. thank you..." and she doesn't forget to kiss you and clean up the mess on your hand herself,, licking and sucking,, grinning at your flustered face at the sight,, whether she's subbing or domming, yujin will never not drive you insane 🥴

she definitely asks for more if there's time!! otherwise both of you will be at it all night long, no breaks—just how she likes it 😈

[kana-daydreams]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐞

summary: you spend a memorable night at the general's humble abode.

𝐏𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Settled on a couch inside the living room space of a small apartment, with a fluffy towel in hand, you gently pat your hair dry— your freshly groomed locks, a victim of the rain you’d barely managed to escape that drums against the rooftop in a relentless and thunderous rhythm. 

As you continue to dry your hair, wincing slightly every now and then from the piercing sound of thunder; a hand bearing a single silver ring on its index finger brandishes a mug in your view, a waft of steam floating above its rim.

“What’s this?” Your eyes travel up from the mug to look up at Warumono who adorns a much less business-formal look, his usual grey trench coat thrown over an all-black attire exchanged for a pair of black sweats matched with a white Tee—-clothes very similar to the ones you don that dwarfs your figure, considering they belonged to Warumono himself.

And why were you wearing the admittedly comfy clothes of one of Earth’s archnemesis?

Blame it on your tendency for not checking in with the weather forecast before your patrols. And having no choice, but to accept Warumono’s invitation—a reluctant offer on his part— to his home after a bolt of lightning had narrowly missed your person, leading you to fling yourself onto his taller frame and keeping your form glued to his back the entire way to his apartment.

The embarrassment.

 “Hot chocolate,” Warumono answers waiting for you to relieve him of the mug.

You scoff. “What do I look like—five?” You murmur, but despite your words, you still take the cup. “Thanks.” You begrudgingly say, before sipping down some of its rich, sweet contents.

Warumono acknowledges your gratitude with a curt nod, before settling himself beside you on the small couch, nursing in his hand, his own cup of hot chocolate.

You watch silently as he then reaches for the TV remote and turns on the flat-screen television plastered on the wall. 

A screen of pandas living their best lives pops into view. And from your periphery, you notice a distinctive gleam in Warumono’s eyes and the corner of his lips inching up into a smile.

“…you really do like pandas, huh?” You say after a minute of observing his reactions to the pandas frolicking on screen, a hint of amusement and surprise laced in your tone.

Warumono cranes his head to look at you. “Yes,” he says before returning his gaze to the TV.

“Me too.” Your voice is somewhat soft at your revelation—one you mindlessly blurt out— but your proximity allows Warumono to catch your words. And in an unexpected turn of events, you and him find yourselves lost in a conversation in which you both exclusively gush over pandas and everything panda-related. 

As you do, time flits by unnoticeably to you two.

It’s only hours later you both become aware of the time, along with the unrelenting rainstorm; and find yourselves unfortunately making sleeping arrangements which land you atop a loft in the comfort of a futon laid neatly against tatami-covered floors.

You shoot a quick message, via your phone, to your extremely worried ranger family to appease their unease about your safety, and after discard it to the side—the same time the lights go off, leaving you in a dimly lit room.

You feel somewhat uncomfortable with the dimmed lighting, but don’t linger too much on the feeling as you pull the white blanket of the futon, snug over your form.

Not even a minute passes, after you close your eyes, when your body jolts from the sudden crack of thunder, an involuntary squeak leaving your lips.

Another crack sounds, more prolonged and louder than its predecessor, and it makes your body quiver in response.

“Villain?” Your shaky voice calls out to Warumono as you peer down at him slumbering on the couch.

“Hey, Villain! Wake up!” you shout again, this time in added urgency, when you don’t hear a response.

A groan, then the sounds of shuffling, follows your pleading shouts.

“W-What?” Warumono’s groggy voice, edged with annoyance, asks.

“Wanna sleep with me?”

A silence descends the room at your question.

The awkward quiet instantly makes you notice the suggestive implication of your words and your face burns from embarrassment.

“I-I mean, you look uncomfortable down there.” You hurry to rephrase your words, referring to his noticeably long limbs dangling halfway off the couch. “Why don’t you sleep up here instead? Next to me.”

“No.”

“What—why?”

“Because I don't want to.”

“C’mon, I insist.”

“No.”

"Just c'mere. I don't bite."

Your words continue to bounce back and forth, you extending an invite to a much more comfortable rest and him refusing.

“Please.” You attempt a final try at getting him to accept your offer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Warumono parts his lips, once again prepared to deny your persistent perseverance when his ears tune in on the subtle whimper of your voice that follows the roar of thunder. “...Fine.” He sighs.

You perk up, wiping away your tears. “R-Really?!”

Warumono doesn’t respond and instead gathers his bedding before climbing into the loft.

He keeps a respectable distance, as much as he can, away from you.

“Thank you.” He thinks he hears you say, but before he can question it, he notices the slow rise and fall of your chest. An indication you’ve already fallen asleep.

It’s not long until he joins you in slumber. And during some point of the night your head lays, nestled against his broad chest while his arms are circled around your waist in a possessive embrace, both your legs draped across each other’s under the comforting warmth of the blanket—and each other. Your intimate position known only to you when heat blooms under your skin after you wake up in the middle of the night to him snuggling you closer to his chest, and the feeling of his chin settled gently on the crown of your head. 

The following morning, when Warumono wakes from his sleep, well-rested, one he hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing in quite a while, he notices your absence next to him.

He pulls himself upright, wiping away the sleep from his eyes, pausing midway when his nose catches the mouth-watering scent of freshly brewed coffee and the hint of a savoury aroma mingling in the air.

He clambers down the loft's ladder, following the scent into the kitchen area, and finds a plate of breakfast and said coffee on the kitchen counter, together with a purple sticky note.

He peels it off the saran-wrapped plate and a smile adorns his features when he reads the words followed by a chibi drawing of a panda.

Thank you for yesterday. It was... kinda fun.

Ps.  I’ll be watching you.

—your fellow panda–loving enemy.

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[bratdotcom]

GOOD LUCK, BABE !

( Eve Wilkins x fem!reader || she needs all the luck she can get when you don't know the effect you have on her )

Eve stares at herself in the mirror, tilting her head in various angles as she examines her face. Nothing noticeable about it has changed, but she checks anyway. 

You were on your way to her house to get ready for another "girls" night out. By "girls" Eve meant you, her, and Rex. Her dad insisted on bringing a "man" along for both of your sakes, for your safety and hers. Rex was as capable of being a man as a child was in his father's suit. He looked the part, but didn't act like it at all. 

That was besides the point. All that mattered was that you were coming over. Not him. 

Her eyes pull away from the mirror when she hears her phone buzz. Usually, she kept it strictly on silent. But since you were coming over, time was of the essence.

She reads over your text with a smile. 

As always, you don't bother to ring the doorbell. You opted to text instead, sending her a simple standing woman emoji to notify her of your arrival at her doorstep. "Took you long enough." Eve comments, looking over your outfit, casual but cute. Perfect for a trip to the mall. All the while Eve was still in her pajamas. 

"Says the one who needs me to get ready in the morning." you say back, before pulling the other girl into a hug.

She doesn't know why, but the sudden hug catches her off guard. Luckily for her, you don't see the way her eyes widen as you wrap your arms around shoulders. The hug was brief, but Eve could swear it lasted longer than it usually did as if you were savoring her arms around your back. 

"Anyways, lead the way, pj princess," you gesture towards her room, the nickname you use for her makes her subconsciously smile to herself. "Do you really need me to lead you to my room?" Eve asks with a small laugh, making her way upstairs, already knowing you'd follow. "Not really, but yeah." your answer makes her laugh again at how absurd you sound, she rolls her eyes, even though you aren't facing her directly.

"You gotta clean around here, Eve. This is a stepping hazzard." You kneel down slightly to pick up one of her stuffed animals, tossing it onto her bed. Eve rolls her eyes. "Quit being dramatic and help me pick out an outfit." She says, rummaging through her closet for some clothes to wear out.

"Alright, whatever you say, babe." You say in reply, sitting on the edge of her bed expectantly for her to show you said outfits. Your usage of the pet name 'babe' makes her heart flutter. Thank God you didn't have super senses. The way her heart rate spiked up at the nickname made her feel embarrassed. You didn't even know the effect you had on her. 

"Okay. This one or this one?" Eve holds up two tops, one of them being a pink camisole and the other being a striped baby tee. "Hm.." You think aloud, tilting your head to the side slightly as you decide which shirt was best for your little "girl's night" out. 

"This one but in that shade." You point at the baby tee, then at the camisole. "Pink is your color, after all.”

Eve smiles to herself. "You're right." She agrees without hesitation, a familiar pink light enveloping the tee, going from the collar to the hem. You've grown used to her using your powers around you, and Eve felt the same. For once, someone else besides Rex saw her powers as a gift- not something demonizing and to be ashamed of. "There." she shows you the baby tee again, wanting your opinion on it, not because she needed it, but because she wanted to hear your approval. Eve wasn't like this usually, but you were lucky. 

"Amazing as always, babe." you praise, pretending to applaud, making her chuckle.

"Since when did you learn how to drive?" Eve asks Rex with a raised brow, lowering down slightly to look the explosion-prone superhero in the eye. 

"Not telling!" He replies, making you grin and Eve more concerned for their safety as Rex pops open the car door from the inside. He had to awkwardly sprawl himself over the center console. You could've sworn you heard a couple of joints crack as he opened the door. 

"Do you even have your license?" You ask as you hop into the back seat, Eve following suit. She buckles on your seatbelt before buckling on her own, making sure it's tightened. Just in case. Rex was behind the wheel, after all. 

"Not telling!" Rex exclaims again, drawing out the last part just to annoy the both of you.

You both collectively roll your eyes at his words. You glance over at the radio as he turns it back on, twisting the knob to turn up the volume. Fittingly, Shut Up and Drive by Rihanna plays. Eve watches as you joke around and poke at Rex from behind the driver's seat, enjoying the laughter coming from your lips. 

Rex wasn't going to shut up any time soon but it was bearable with you.

[momotonescreaming]

wrap it up baby i'm takin' you home

Rating: M | WC: 10k | Tommy/Steve/Carol Future Fic, Polyamory, Fade to Black

“Can we not have a serious conversation with your dick out?” Carol huffs, rolling her eyes, before turning to glare at Tommy where he’s leaning on the wall at the entrance to the living room of their and Steve’s apartment.

“No,” Tommy replies, completely naked, not making any move from his spot against the wall. He’s fresh from the shower, Carol can see, hair curling up just ever so slightly at the base of his neck. The rest of it slicked back with water, unstyled, dripping onto his shoulders and down his pecs. Sliding down his freckles like connect the dots. He sends droplets of water flying as he gestures with one hand. “Because this isn’t a serious conversation. We’ve talked about it before, and we’ve got it fucking sorted.”

Carol sighs again, looking up at the ceiling, decidedly not looking at Tommy. At his skin, damp and glistening from the shower. The breadth of his shoulders, his pecs, the lines of his torso — drawing the eye down along his happy trail. His cock, thick and pretty, nestled in tidy dark pubes. Pale thighs, dusted with hair, and with freckles. He’s unashamed, in the safety of their apartment, where the only people around to look are the people he wants looking.

“You mean I’m the one sorting it.” She feels the paper of her notebook crumple slightly in her hands, the plastic of her pen creak where she’s gripping it tightly. Looking over at Tommy, glaring, she tries to let the tension ease off her shoulders. It doesn’t quite work, but she lowers them so she’s not wound quite so tight with them right up by her ears.

Tommy’s so blasé about these things, and it’s both refreshing and stressing her out. His gaze is soft, his eyes warm, as he watches her from his spot on the wall. No trace of humour, of jokes, of teasing. There’s no one around for him to perform for. To put on the act for. It’s just her, and him, and Steve.

“I mean,” Tommy says, pushing off the wall and stepping towards her. He doesn’t have to go far, their apartment is tiny — before he’s right in front of her. “We’ve got it fucking sorted. They’re gonna ring you back, they’re gonna give you the job, and you’re gonna be the best assistant events coordinator Chicago has ever seen.”

“He’s right, you know.” Steve interrupts, voice echoing through the hall of their apartment as he appears behind Tommy. Slides a hand around his waist, thick, tanned, and a steady weight as he gently rests it there. Hooks his chin over Tommy’s shoulder, not caring about the dripping water. He’s wearing blue jeans, fitting tight around his hips, and one of Tommy’s stretched out muscle tees. They’re probably getting damp too, but he doesn’t look like he minds. “Plus, we have enough to cover the next few weeks while we wait to hear back. You should know, you helped Tommy do our budget.”

She did, is the thing. Help Tommy do their budget for the next three weeks. Counted up their savings, Tommy’s income from his new office job, bills, groceries, and gas. Figured it all out so they had enough to get them through. It’d be better if she got the job, at this fancy event company she had been eyeing up. It was a job she thinks she could genuinely like, plus it would provide a nice buffer to help Steve figure out exactly what he wanted to do. Where he wanted to go from here.

They did the budget without him, he’d stress himself out and offer to get another shitty minimum wage job to help out. Which was sweet, and Carol knew how much he loved working with Robin, but no. He was theirs, and he wasn’t working in some shithole if she could help it. And Carol could help it, so she planned. Used her bitchy powers for good, or whatever.

“So put down your notebook,” Tommy starts, plucking it from her hands, and Carol hates that her first thought is that he’s going to get the pages all wet. Smudge her neatly organised notes. He grabs the pen next, clicks it, and tosses them both aside onto the nearby coffee table. Watches it land on the newspaper, next to the remote and a pile of her old management textbooks she had gotten out. Guess she’s not using those anymore. Sighs, and draws her eyes up the length of Tommy’s body, the way Steve’s pressed in close behind him, and lets herself look. “We’ve got this. Right, Babe?”

“Fine.” Carol huffs, conceding to Tommy’s point, while still not sure if she wants to be doing so. She can’t just sit here and wait for their lives to slowly spiral out when there’s something she could be doing. Their budget will only last so long, and that doesn’t include whatever bullshit life decides to throw their way. Because something will be thrown their way. A car that needs repairing, a rent increase, a trip to the hospital — something that will throw Carol’s plan completely out. But Tommy and Steve are here, and they’re calm, and they believe in her. “Whatever. I guess.”

“You’re just stressing yourself out,” Steve says, tilting his head as he speaks, leaning towards Tommy. Hair brushing up against Tommy’s wet strands. “Plus, I doubt they’re gonna call you until their office opens on Monday.”

“So there’s nothing you can do but fucking relax.” Tommy adds on.

[Read the whole thing on AO3]