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mizutsugi · 2 months ago

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cowgirl ☆ (dean winchester x reader

↳ synopsis: you ride the mechanical bull at some texas dive bar, and dean really can't keep his mind out of the gutter...

↳word count: 2,052

↳cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab reader, oral sex (f recieving), p in v (wrap it up!!!), cowgirl (duh..), a bit of sub dean if you squint, not proof read!

You were about five shots in at a little dive bar in Texas, slamming the shot glass down onto the sticky dark oak counter as Dean followed behind you. The place was crowded- it was a Friday night, after all. The room smelled like booze and old leather, and the walls were a deep red, littered with little photos and mementos… an old acoustic guitar, a framed picture of a longhorn, an old Budweiser sign- the works. Whatever shyness you had was left at the door, and with all the booze starting to hit your system, you felt like you could do anything. That’s when your eyes landed on a faux bull in the middle of the dimly lit room, surrounded by blue padded foam and a ring. You smiled and pointed at it, trying to get Dean to follow.

“I wanna ride it.” You said.

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart? You’ve had a few.” Dean chuckled, currently sipping on a whiskey.

“Mhm.” You nodded before hopping off the barstool, dotting your way around the crowded bar before you made it to the bullpen. Dean was frankly shocked you went for it so quickly, and tried to follow you, pushing through a few people in the process.

You threw a leg clumsily over the elastic cord separating the bullpen and the hardwood floor, stumbling over the soft foam before grasping onto the robotic bull. Suddenly a man appeared behind you- hell, maybe he was there the whole time- and tapped your shoulder.

“You sober enough to be doing this, missus?” He asked with a southern drawl. He had a jean jacket on and a cowboy hat, and you gave him the kindest smile you could summon.

“Yes sir, promise!” You grinned, swinging your leg over the bull and mounting it. You playfully grabbed his cowboy hat and put it on your head. The man just laughed and shook his head, too spent to fight it. You looked around for Dean, who was now leaning on the cord with his arms folded over the strong material, smirking at you. In his head, he was making a bet with himself that you’d last 10 seconds tops.

“Alrighty, just hang tight…” The man ducked out of the ring and grabbed what you assumed to be the controller. He pressed a button and the bull, big and black, started moving.

You laughed and gripped onto the saddle mount, trying to remember everything from those old western flicks Dean loved to watch back home. You lifted your hips, back arching as you tried to remain as steady as possible while the bull lurched forward. Your thighs squeezed tightly around the machinery, your hold on the peg in front of you steady. You kept giggling to yourself, looking back at Dean with a wild grin on your face. He smiled back, nodding his head in approval. If he was being honest, all he could focus on was the way your hips rolled and your hair bounced on your collarbone, done up into two cute braided pigtails. You were wearing his flannel and a lacy white tank top underneath, that showed just enough.

A crowd slowly emerged around the pen, with people holding drinks and cheering you on as you passed the thirty second mark. The bull started moving more rapidly, and your thighs gripped the beast tighter, while the upper half of your torso moved freely as to dodge the sharp movements. You whooped and hollered, freeing one arm from the mount to grab on to your (stolen) cowboy hat and tip it to the crowd before waving it frantically in the air. You could hear Dean clapping for you, cheering your name as you made it past a minute. You looked over to him as he watched you, both enamored and proud, and you smiled back. You put the hat back on your head and watched as a few of the patrons of the bar joined in on the cheering. The bull was getting quicker and more frantic, bucking you around all over the place. You tried your best, but your grip loosened and your thighs started spazzing out, losing their hold around the animal. You let out one last cheer before getting thrown off the bull, landing with a gentle thud on the plush padding beneath you. You laughed as the people around you clapped, including the operator. He retrieved his hat, which had fallen off your head when you fell, and gave you a firm handshake and a “well done” after you pulled yourself back up. You felt a bit dizzy, and looked around for Dean, who was now ducking below the cord and offering you a sturdy hand to pull yourself up by.

You smiled warmly at him before taking it, allowing him to pull you out of the ring. He dropped your hand but quickly went in for a kiss, pecking you on the lips before giving your shoulder an approving pat.

“You’re a damn professional, babe.” He said.

“Aw, shucks…” You smiled sheepishly, dusting your knees off before taking his hand as the two of you walked out of the bar and out the door, feeling the humid night air hit your faces as you stepped out into the warm darkness. You both headed for the Impala before driving back to the motel you were holed up in during the hunt.

The second you made it through the door, Dean was all over you. He was holding you tight, pulling in before kissing you. You laughed, pulling away after his third kiss.

“Someone’s ancy, huh?” You cocked a brow, noting how his green eyes scanned all over your body while he held you close.

“Can’t help it. It was hot.” He mumbled lowly, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“What, how good I was on the bull?” You asked.

“M-hm…” He hummed, the hand on your lower back inching lower and lower until it fell over the curve of your ass.

“You’re such a horndog…” You smirked and rolled your eyes, but leaned into his touch. He slowly walked you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell backward, allowing him to climb over you until he was hovering above your face, his eyes obsessively roaming over you. He lowered his face down to yours and kissed you again, this time hungrier and more desperate. He slowly moved across your jaw, then down to your exposed neck and collarbone. You moaned softly as he sucked on your neck, his hands wandering down to the flannel around you and pulling at the fabric until it came off, taking his lips off you momentarily so he could pull your arms out of the sleeves. While you were still lifted a bit off the bed, he pulled the white tank off carefully over your head, leaving you in a white silky bra and low rise blue jeans. He also took that time to throw off his own shirt, and you had about two seconds to admire his built chest before he was back on your neck. He kissed and sucked and bit, making you whimper and reach up to clutch his short hair. He snaked his hands underneath your back and fiddled with the clasps of your bra until he successfully undid them, pulling the straps down and revealing your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful…” He murmured from your neck, slowly tracing his lips down the valley of your chest between your tits. His hands reached up to feel the soft, supple skin, calloused fingers occasionally pinching your nipples and rolling over the sensitive buds. You let out small whimpers that made him harden beneath you, bucking his hips into the mattress as he worked his way down your stomach. His occupied hands left your chest and wandered down to the waistline of your jeans, gently pushing them down your thighs and, with one swift tug, off your legs. He threw them to the side, focusing on the lace panties you had on. He practically groaned at the site of a wet spot in the middle, where you were worked up. He looked up to your yearning eyes for permission before you feverishly nodded your head in approval. You watched him pull at the thin fabric until you were left completely bare.

He wasted no time connecting himself to your core, tongue lapping at your clip. You moaned, hands practically flying to his short locks to stabilize yourself. He had to admit, you pulling on his hair and moaning so sweetly shortened his patience a bit. He was skillfully working your body, sucking and licking in all the right spots between your folds, hands moving to grasp your hips, keeping you pinned in one spot. You couldn’t help but roll them, though, pleasure coming in waves as he hit your sensitive bud over and over again.

“D-Dean…” You moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Without you finishing your sentence, he knew, and his unrelenting tongue carried you to your (quick) release. You shuttered, feeling your body tremble and thighs quiver as you came down, his face pulling away from you to reveal his stubble covered in slick. He smiled in a way that was downright devious, so smug that he knew how quickly he could make you come undone. Giving you time to recover, he pulled his pants off, allowing the denim to pool at his ankles before kicking them off, then releasing himself from his boxers. Your mouth all but watered at the sight of his cock, already pink and slightly glazed with precum. He pumped himself a few times before positing himself at your entrance, emerald eyes locking with yours with eager, but gentle, anticipation.

“Breathe in for me, pretty girl.” He said, giving you time to collect your breath before pushing in. You whined, feeling him slowly fill you as to let you get used to the feeling. As his hips slowly pulled in and out, each movement turning pain into pleasure, you reached to grip his strong arms. He groaned lowly, feeling you tighten around him, his thrusts beginning to pick up the pace.

“D…Dean..” You moaned, shakily tapping your finger against his arm.

His thrusts slowed slightly as he cautiously responded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Switch w’me.” You requested, an idea forming. He gave you a bit of a skeptical look, before pulling out and lying down beside you, a bit frustrated from the sudden separation.

You climbed over him, and his eyes suddenly lit up as realization hit him all at once. You straddled his bare lap, hovering over his cock. Your hands felt up his toned chest, nails dragging across it slightly as you admired how handsome he looked under you. He fucking whimpered, which drove you crazy and reminded you why exactly you decided to take the lead. Your hands wandered back down to his dick, lining it up with your entrance before you slowly lowered yourself down on him. You and him both moaned at the feeling of being inside each other again, your hips rolling. Your eyelids fluttered shut, allowing yourself to focus on movement rather than giving in to the urge to collapse his broad chest. You slowly lifted your hips up, then down, then up, until you were in a steady rhythm of bouncing on his cock. He moaned, hands gripping your waist softly and helping guide you up and down. You whimpered and whined at the feeling of his length pumping in and out of you, your core strength starting to falter as you felt yourself getting closer.

“I’m… fuck…” You could barely get a word out, breaths getting shallower and shallower as you focused on chasing your release.

“Cum for me, babe…” He mumbled slowly, feeling himself also getting close as your walls tightened around him. You did, almost immediately collapsing on top of him, head falling to his collar as you faltered around him. Feeling you squeeze around his length, he came, hands grasping around your back as you laid on top of him. You smiled, feeling his rough palms slowly start to rub soothing circles on your back as you both recovered.

“My pretty cowgirl…”

↳a/n: my writers block is SO BAD :( i promise i will try to get to all my requests asap! this was in fact not a request but like... something possessed me and i needed to finish this draft. thinking so much about dean rn... ughhhh

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural one shot #supernatural #dean winchester one shot #need this man biblically #especially season 1-3 dean

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familyvideostevie · 2 months ago

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to close up all the rest

joel miller x reader | 3.2k

a patrol rattles you. joel keeps you grounded.

cw: typical tlou violence, intense emotions about being alive/death, love, something to live for. post-part i jackson au

a/n: just a little jackson au one-shot. this is a christmas present for darling @macfrog. thank you for existing, i love you. hope this is alright.

It's been a long time since someone died in front of you.

You don't even know her. Honestly, you should be glad the runner grabbed her, considering she just finished shooting at you. Your patrol partner, a kid called Joey who usually works the stables, shouts your name as you watch it sink its teeth into her neck over and over again.

She doesn't even scream.

"More are coming," he cries. "We have to go."

He's right. The woman's gunshot echoed in the valley and it's not yet cold enough for the herds to be slow, so you have a few minutes at most to get out of here. Probably less.

Groans on the wind. Definitely less.

You shake yourself out of the twisted thrall you've fallen into and look away. Heart in your throat, blood pounding in your ears, you quickly tie your bags to your horse and scan the street.

"Do you have your pack?" you ask Joey.

If she was screaming you'd shoot her. Put an end to it. But it might be a waste of a shot and then the runner would be on you in ten big steps. Fuck.

"Got it!"

You both mount skittish rides and take off down the cracked pavement. The patrol had an added ask of raiding some neighborhoods for linens that can be turned into bandages. You each have a big bag of old clothes, curtains, blankets, and the like strapped to the back of your saddles. The woman had appeared out of the tree line just as you finished the last house, demanding your stuff. There was protocol for this -- Joey would distract her while you went for the gun strapped to the back of your jeans.

But she was skittish, this woman. She fired at the pavement in front of you as soon as your hand twitched.

And then, well.

After a few miles of steady galloping you signal for Joey to slow. The forest is quiet as you turn onto the path down the hill that will lead you back to Jackson.

"I can't believe she shot at us," the kid says. "Stupid."

You sigh. "She was desperate," you say, remembering how wild her eyes looked. "And alone. If she had people with her she wouldn't have."

"You think?"

It's been some time but you did your days alone in this world. It's bloody, it's terrifying, it's punishing. You stop trusting anyone and eventually you stop trusting yourself. Wondering why you keep trying. Without community you lose sight of what matters. You lose sight of how you can not just survive this hell on earth, but live in it.

If she had wanted to do that, instead, maybe you could have told her it was possible.

"Yeah," you say. The walls of Jackson come into view and you think about what awaits you. A warm house, an even warmer embrace. Safety, security, home. "Having people makes all the difference."

Joey waves the green flag and the gates open for you. After returning your horse and checking to make sure the kid isn't too traumatized -- frankly, he seems totally unbothered -- you walk back to the house. The sun is starting to set, painting everything golden, but you can see the clouds rolling in. Might be that snow that everyone keeps anticipating. Most mornings you hear chatter about it. Small talk about the weather persists after the end of the world.

A few folks wave hello, ask after Ellie's new dog, say they hope you've got your firewood ready. Jackson is a thing out of dreams. Solid walls, even steadier people. Good rules, smart leaders. You feel lucky every day that they let you stay here. That you've made a home here.

That home is in sight when you turn on Rancher and what you spy on the porch makes you pick up your pace.

Joel.

He's rocking in the one chair out front, guitar slung across his lap like an afterthought as he strums with his eyes closed. It'll be too cold to sit out, soon, so he spends most evenings playing while he can still stand it.

A heaviness you didn't realize you were carrying lessens a little at the sight of him.

"Hey, stranger," you call as you walk up the steps.

His gaze falls on you, the hazel in his irises more evident in the fading light of the late afternoon. God, he looks beautiful. Like everything you've ever wanted.

"Howdy," he says. The guitar goes up against the house and he stands, meeting you at the top step. "How was patrol?"

You falter, smile frozen on your face. You should tell him, but you don't know what you'd say. A stranger died in front of you and it's put your stomach in knots? It's not that he'll laugh at you, or anything like that. You just need to chew on it a little longer. And right now you're steps away from the warm inside of your home and inches away from the man you love, so you decide to push it aside.

"The usual," you muse. Joel furrows his brow just a little and searches your gaze, but whatever he finds in your eyes causes him to let it go.

"Okay," he says, softly. He taps your chin with his knuckle and turns toward the front door, snagging his guitar on the way. "You hungry? Ellie brought by some soup."

"Did she make it?"

Your layers go on the hooks by the door, your boots next to his in the hall. He heads for the kitchen.

"Hell no," Joel says, deep voice echoing through your house. "Dina did."

"So it's edible?"

You pad on socked feet over creaking hardwood and find him over a pot on the stove, bowl in hand.

"Tried a bit and it didn't kill me," he says. "Waited for you to get home to eat, though."

"And Tommy says you were raised in a barn," you tease, kissing his cheek before he ladles the soup for you.

Joel grunts and you laugh. "Hot bowl," he says. "Careful."

For some reason, his gentle caution makes your chest hurt. You think about the woman from today, how she had no one telling her to be careful. How she made a mistake, or maybe a reckless choice. How she didn't even scream.

There are many very difficult days in this life and you dealt with them on your own for a long time. It's taken practice and mounds of patience from Joel and the other people in this town who love you, but you've learned that you can let other people help you through those days. But that doesn't mean it isn't hard.

You sit at the table across from Joel and try not to let your mood take over.

"You alright?" Joel asks, frown firmly in place. "Maybe Ellie did make the soup--"

"It's good, Joel," you say, smiling a little. If he asks you how you are one more time, you'll crack. And you're not ready yet. "Will you tell me about your day?"

He sighs, no doubt seeing through your second deflection, but allows it.

"Let's see," he starts, leaning back in his chair. "Tommy had me handlin' that bullshit with the kids who went huntin'."

Last week, three teenagers snuck out with the grand idea that they'd bag an elk or something just as big and bring it back for fame and glory or whatever kids think is worth life and death these days. It hadn't gone as badly as it could have, but it was pretty bad. They'd stolen a rifle from the patrol cache and only made it a few miles before one of them slipped down a bank and broke his ankle. Joel had been the one to lead the search party when someone realized they were missing.

He's got a soft spot for teenagers.

"It's good for them to learn," you remind him. He sucks on his teeth and rubs at his jaw. You slurp on some more soup and a thought at odds with your sour mood dances through your memory -- how good his beard felt on your skin last night. Jesus. He does something to you, this man.

"Should know better," he says, oblivious to the echo of your desire. "Havin' them clean all the guns is one thing but once that kid heals up I'm tellin' Tommy we oughta start a trainin' class or somethin'. Let them get outside the walls and hunt if they want. With supervision."

"Keep talking like that and Maria will make you join the council," you muse.

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure as shit not doin' that."

"You'd be good at it, Joel. People listen to you."

"I have a hard enough time gettin' my own kid to listen to me," he reminds you. "Hell, you, too."

It's less of a jab and more of an attempt to get you to cheer up, and it works. You laugh at him, delighted to vex him so. As if he does anything but melt for Ellie. And for you -- both of you know just how wrapped around you he is. He'll do anything for his family. You've seen proof of it.

"If only the council had a uniform," you sigh, exaggerating your disappointment. "You'd look so handsome in one."

"Watch it," he says, eyes sparkling.

You tap his foot under the table with yours. "Just being truthful," you tease, though it rings a little hollow given the fact that you're swerving talking about your own day.

Joel hums and leans back in his chair. "You gonna tell me what happened today?"

"What do you mean?"

Even as you chew on how to swerve him once again, you find yourself going back to the patrol. The way your senses sharpened when she stepped out of the trees, how you saw all the ways it could go wrong. Her twitchy hand, her wide eyes. The crack in her voice when she demanded your packs. The echo of the gunshot and your own heartbeat loud in your ears wondering if today was the day you wouldn't make it home. When the runner leapt out of nowhere and latched onto her. How easily your life could have ended that way, too.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you," Joel says, not unkindly. "Where are you?"

You chew on your lower lip. This would be a lot easier if the words would just come to you, if you knew how to explain yourself.

"Joel--"

"Alright, that's it," he says. Joel gets up with a groan, stretching his arms high in the air, and heads for the front door.

"What?" you ask, confused, but you follow him into the hall. "Joel, where are you going?"

"We're goin' for a walk." He shrugs on his jacket and waves you over. "C'mon."

"But the dishes--"

"Will be here when we get back," he finishes. "Now, get your coat on. Hat, too. Reckon the snow is gonna start tonight."

You could fight him about it, say you're cold and tired and just want to sit on the couch. Tell him to stop badgering you, to let sleeping dogs lie.

But that's the thing about Joel -- you trust him. Outside the walls, inside your home. With your life and with your heart. You're safe in his hands. And you've been here before plenty of times. After nightmares from both of you, after hard days in town, after his fights with Ellie or Tommy or whatever it is. You walk and you talk it out. Fresh air helps, Joel often says. It's the father in him, the caretaker, the man who knows when to listen and when to push. He's taught you a lot about that.

So you shove your feet back into your boots and Joel tugs a knit hat over your ears. The sun finished setting while you were eating, Jackson now illuminated by the gas lamps and string lights hanging between the posts.

Normally you'd be content to just walk with Joel side by side, as is your usual routine. He's not a particularly public man when it comes to affection, though you never doubt that he's thinking of you. His eyes find yours in every room and he easily finds you in every crowd. By now, you've got your own language.

But, given that he's brought you out here to no doubt get you to be honest about your complicated feelings, he offers you his arm for support. You take it with a dry look that he matches.

Never one to let you off easily, this man. Not when he knows he can help, at least.

"You know what I'm gonna say," he grumbles.

It helps to talk.

It's basically a mantra in your house. Ellie says he didn't used to be like this. The total opposite, in fact. You know that it's her that brought him back to this version of himself -- he did it because she asked. And maybe you coming along helped, too. He might seem gruff and guarded to those who don't know him but it's all so he can protect who and what he loves.

And this is one of his ways -- not letting things go unsaid.

"I don't know where to start," you say. "I don't know how to explain it."

Joel rubs a hand over his jaw. "Try the beginning," he suggests. "It was patrol, right? Somethin' happened?"

You nod.

"We saw a woman," you start. You close your eyes and picture her, letting Joel lead you down the street. "She came out of the woods just as we finished the last house."

"Hostile?"

You look at Joel. His jaw is tense, as if you're not standing in front of him safe and sound. Always trying to fix hurts he had nothing to do with.

"She had a gun, yeah," you continue. "Demanded our stuff. We were ready to do the protocol but then she shot at us."

Joel stops in his tracks, pulling you with him. "She did what?"

"And missed, obviously," you remind him. "But it was a stupid mistake, since we weren't far from that town with the herd. She had to have seen traces of them and known they were there."

"Christ," he mutters. You tug on his arm and he starts walking again.

"And before we could do anything a runner tackled her to the ground."

Joel curses under his breath. "Unlucky."

It starts to snow. You look up at the white flakes falling from the dark sky as you figure out how to say what happened next.

"Go on," Joel says, softly. "This is the part that bothered you, I reckon."

"She didn't even scream, Joel," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear. "She just went down."

"Ah."

All of it comes to a boil and the words pour out of you.

"I mean, why did she shoot in the first place? She was jumpy, sure, but she was alone, too. She looked so tired, so desperate, and the way it lunged for her I know it didn't kill her on the first bite. No screaming, she just took it. She took it and gave up. I don't -- she must have had nothing, to give up like that. It's just so fucked up --"

Your voice breaks. Joel pulls you to a stop and unwinds your arms so he can put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ain't nothin' you can do about someone else's lot," he says. "She made her mistakes."

"I know," you retort, "but that could have been me."

"It ain't you."

"But it could have been, Joel!" You're not angry with him, but you're frustrated. "If things had worked out differently for me, it could have been. If I never found Jackson, if I was still out there. It could have been me."

He exhales sharply, reigning in his own desire to remind you that you're safe. That you're here, that you're with him. That he won't let anything bad happen to you.

"Lots of things could be different," he says, slowly. "Could spend days thinkin' 'bout that stuff. Years."

"I guess I'm just sad for her." The snow has gathered in Joel's hair and you reach for him to brush it away. He allows it, keeping his eyes on yours. "I think she wanted to die."

"It's a hard life on the road."

You sigh. "I know, Joel," you say. "I just -- it's been a long time since things have been that bad for me. And it was hard to be reminded, you know?"

His hands move from your shoulders to cup your face, thumbs your skin. "I know, sweetheart," he replies. "We've all been there. Hard not to think about givin' up at least once in this shit hole."

It gets a dry laugh out of you.

"But you ain't givin' up. You fight tooth and nail every single time 'cause you've got so much to get back to. And it'll get you home."

You lean into one of his palms, your lips brushing along the heel of his hand. "I know, Joel."

He's not done. "For a long time I was like that. Not carin' much how things went, so long as I got to get my hands dirty. But Ellie --" he swallows, the love he has for his girl getting in the way of his words " -- and you tie me to this damn place. Make me get up every day, make me remember how things can be good. And someday it'll be my turn --"

"Joel--"

"No, listen. Someday it'll be my turn, and I'll go knowin' I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to get what I got. Time."

You can't take it anymore. You pitch forward into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. Now that he's said it, you realize why the whole thing bothered you so much. You don't want to die. You don't want to lose the life you have now. The home you have with this man, the way he loves you. The way you love him. It makes you feel human, it makes you feel alive.

And you feel damn bad for anyone who doesn't have something to live for.

Joel's hand presses into your spine. Maybe in a different life you'd be worried that he'd think you're silly for being so bothered about this, but he always takes you seriously. You both know how quickly you can lose something, how much it matters to make the time you have count.

"Thank you," you say into his jacket. He scoffs.

"C'mon, now." He gently pulls away from your embrace to look at you. He brushes snow from your shoulders and hat with careful fingers. "Let's go home."

Home. For so long you never thought you'd have one.

Joel must see the vulnerability in your eyes because he leans in to press his lips to yours gently. An anchoring touch, a reminder of how he feels.

"Getting frisky, Mr. Miller," you mutter when he pulls away. He snickers and you sneak another kiss as he pinches your hip through your coat.

"Home," he says again.

You couldn't agree more.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last us of fanfiction

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chososcamgirl · 4 months ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER ELEVEN: flirting in space

masterlist

She flops onto the bed, her stomach pressing against the soft duvet. “Dude, what is your bed made out of?” she mumbles, her face buried in the white fabric.

That is definitely going to leave a stain for sure.

Megumi stifles a laugh as he quietly closes his bedroom door and takes a seat beside her, the bed sinking on one side. “So, are we going to watch this stupid movie of yours or what?”

She shoots up, a mix of shock and indignation flashing across her face. “I actually cannot believe you said that about Little Women” she retorts him with a scoff, playfully shoving his chest.

“Besides” she begins while pulling her hair away from her face, “I decided that The Virgin Suicides is a better fitting movie for your first femcel watch”

“Why’s that?” he quirks an eyebrow.

“I wanna see you as uncomfortable as possible”, she grins.

He rolls his eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh as his back hits the mattress beside her. With a casual motion, he places his hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling.

They both lie there, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars that adorn the raven-haired boy’s ceiling, a constellation of dreams lighting up the dark room.

It felt silly seeing such a child-like thing in his bedroom, it was absurd even, yet she understood. Understood the need to cling to the fragments of her childhood. Those memories, like distant stars, offered a comforting light in the darkness. She could almost hear the echoes of laughter on long summer days, the sticky sweetness of melted ice creams, and the chaotic joy of birthday parties. Each scrape and bruise carried a story, a testament to the adventures that once defined her youth. All of that resembled each star stuck onto the ceiling - thirty-two to be exact. Each one a symbol of a cherished moment—shining brightly yet tinged with an ache for what had been lost to the passage of time. The ache of the simplicity of those carefree days

"When did you start playing guitar?" she asks, interrupting the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

The living room is cozy, illuminated by the soft glow of the overhead lights and filled with the warm, buttery scent of freshly popped popcorn.

"I started when I was thirteen," he replies, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice.

He turns his head for moment, his eyes absently looking at a framed portrait of something far too small for her to see.

"My dad used to teach me."

"Oh," she says, leaning in a little closer, her eyes searching his for more. There's a flicker of something in his expression that makes her heart ache—a blend of fondness and sadness.

"Yeah, he left us, though." His voice drops, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

She watches as his gaze drifts to the wall, lost in memories that seem to swirl just out of reach.

She lets out a laugh, but it quickly transforms into a cough, the awkwardness of the moment catching her off guard.

"Okay fuck you," he snaps, standing up abruptly, the frustration palpable in his posture.

"I’m sorry but the trauma dumping caught me off guard, you dropped that on me out of nowhere!" she defends, she muffles behind a hand, still caught off gaurd by the sudden information.

She brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear, trying to regain her composure.

He scoffs and steps toward the flatscreen mounted on the wall, its black surface gleaming under the lights.

"Parents do suck, though," she continues, her tone becoming more contemplative.

"They usually write you in their will or leave a family heirloom in your name - not a lifetime full of trauma and trust issues"

She lets out a long sigh, the weight of her words sinking into the atmosphere.

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued by her candidness. Grabbing the remote and the bowl of popcorn he had prepared earlier, he settles onto the floor in front of her, the soft thud of his body breaking the tension. The popcorn clinking against the bowl.

Leaning back so her head hangs over the edge of the couch, she looks at him upside down, a playful grin breaking across her face.

"At least the trauma made me hot and funny."

Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she tries to inject humor back into their conversation.

"Neither of those are true," he replies with a smirk, scrolling through Netflix, his thumb moving methodically over the remote.

The light from the screen casts a flickering glow on their faces, adding to the intimacy of the moment. She lifts her head until she's right side up, then snatches the remote from him, sticking out her tongue in playful defiance.

"Riilight," she says, dripping with sarcasm, unable to suppress her laughter any longer.

As she continues scrolling, her brow furrows in concentration, her fingers dancing over the screen. Suddenly, a familiar cover catches her eye—a close-up of a blonde.

"YES!" she exclaims, her excitement bubbling over as she presses play. The sound of the opening theme fills the room, and she plops down next to him grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“I’m going to quiz you afterward, so you better be paying attention!” she exclaims, her mouth full of popcorn, kernels spilling slightly over her lips.

He shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face as he watches her horrible table manners. “Yeah, yeah, whatever just shut up and watch the movie,” he replies, amusement lacing his voice.

—

“It didn’t matter how old they had been, or that they were girls. But only that we had loved them, and that they hadn’t heard us calling, still did not hear us calling them out of those rooms. Where they went to be alone all time, and where we will never find the pieces to put them back together.”

A blank screen suddenly filled with white text that began to ascend slowly, leaving the pair enveloped in a heavy silence, both grappling with the weight of what they had just witnessed.

“What the fuck,” Megumi finally murmured, his voice low and incredulous.

“So… didja like it?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a teasing glimmer in her eyes.

“Liked it? Did I like it?” he echoed, incredulous.

“Yeah, did you?”

Megumi turned to face her, locking eyes with an intensity that was both surprising and distraught.

“DID THEY ALL JUST FUCKING DIE?!” he shouted, hands gripping her shoulders as he shook her gently, urgency radiating from him.

“IS THERE A SECOND MOVIE? WE HAVE TO WATCH IT! WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? WHY DID THEY CUT DOWN THE TREE?” His questions spilled out in a rush, a torrent of disbelief and passion that made her laugh despite the intensity of the moment.

“YN, WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?” he asked, bewildered.

“Shhhh,” she urged, pressing a hand to his lips in a shushing gesture. “It’s 2 AM! We don’t need to wake up the rest of the house about with your screaming about the death of four teenage girls,” she hissed, trying to rein in her amusement.

“Mmmff mmmph mppff,” he protested, his words muffled yet animated.

She finally removed her hand, and he took a deep breath, clearly still caught up in the heat of the moment. “We have to watch the second movie,” he insisted, eyes wide with eagerness.

“There’s no second movie,” she replied, bending down to gather the scattered popcorn he had sent flying in his fervour.

“But there are so many unanswered questions. Like, why did they do it?” His frustration was palpable, a crease forming between his brows.

She regarded him with a look as if to say "bitch be so serious".

“The whole movie answered that question,” she replied, exasperation in her tone.

He sat back, stunned, still reeling from the emotional impact of the film, especially the shocking fate of the four blondes. The gravity of the ending lingered, and she could see the gears turning in his mind, struggling to process the story’s conclusion.

“Don’t think too hard. Wouldn’t want that pretty head of yours to fry,” she teases, her tone light and playful.

"Sofia Coppola is fucked," he declares, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he leaps onto the bed, the mattress softly bouncing beneath him.

Leaning in, she whispers conspiratorially, "But that's what makes her so brilliant."

In a sudden burst of energy, he turns and pounces on top of her, catching her completely off guard. She gasps, a surprised squeal escaping her lips, which quickly dissolves into laughter as she instinctively tries to push him off.

"Megumi, get off! You're so heavy!" she exclaims, her tone a mix of playful annoyance and genuine struggle.

"Nahh," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He finds amusement in her attempts to squirm free, relishing the playful dynamic between them.

Straddling her and pinning her hands to the bed, the atmosphere crackles with tension and unspoken possibilities. His laughter fills the room, finding entertainment in her weak attempt at an escape.

“Come on, Yn, you can do better than that,” he quips, raising an eyebrow and flashing a teasing smirk.

She squirms beneath him, laughter mixing with playful frustration as she tries to wriggle free. After a moment, he gives in, unstraddling her and lying down beside her.

They find themselves in the same relaxed position as earlier in the night, but now the air is thick with an unspoken tension that draws them closer together. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand, disrupting the moment. She glances at the screen, and the unsaved contact tells her everything she needs to know. With a resigned roll of her eyes, she tosses her phone to the floor, irritation flashing across her face.

“Who was that?” he asks, his curiosity evident.

“Scam text,” she replies tersely, her tone clipped as she attempts to brush off the interruption. The moment lingers, heavy with what’s left unsaid, both of them acutely aware of the shift in their dynamic.

A minute of silence envelops them, thick with unspoken thoughts. She feels the warmth radiating off him, a heat that heightens the already-charged atmosphere.

Finally, he breaks the stillness. “We have a gig on Saturday if you want to come.”

“Do you want me to come?” she asks, turning her head to meet his gaze. He remains focused on the ceiling, lost in thought.

“I don’t mind. The offer’s there. I can get you free entry if you do, and there’s also—”

Before he can finish, she reaches up, capturing his face in her hands and turning it toward her. Their eyes lock, and he’s struck by the intensity in hers.

“Yeah, but do you want me to come?” she presses, her voice steady but tinged with an underlying vulnerability.

He sees the anticipation sparkling in her eyes, a mixture of hope and expectation hanging in the air between them. Two responses linger on the tip of his tongue, but instead of articulating them, he chooses neither. He closes the distance between them, his lips crashing onto hers with a sudden, fervent urgency. The kiss is intoxicating, filled with everything left unsaid, igniting the moment into something deeper. Something that the pair refuse to say out loud.

Good answer.

extras!

• partygirls do NOT keep secrets in the house so she immediately told them where she was (and also apologised to nobara)

• yn drives illegally LOL (too many dui’s + she does not actually have a license)

• megumi actually live pretty close to her otherwise she definitely would have caught the train

• megumi was NOT nonchalant this chapter…

• NO SLUT SHAMING IN THIS CHAPTER!! WE ARE MAKING PROGRESS CHAT

• playground love got added to megumis playlist immediately after the movie (he shazammed it)

• they both watched little women and then barbie after

• megumi had to excuse himself to go the bathroom bc he was lowkey abt to cry at the ending of little women (he’s so me)

• letterboxxd reviews!!

• panda has recently been binge watching the talk tuah podcast and now comments the same thing under everyones tweet (theyre sick of him) (his favourite episode is the one with jojo siwa by far)

• sukuna stalker era? (he has our location set on indefinitely yn just forgot to turn it off for him)

• aw hes just looking out for us #protectiveboyfie #bias

a/n: SORRY FOR THE DELAY LAST WEEK WAS SO CRAZY I COULDNT MEET THE DEADLINE!!!! next chapter out in a couple of hours but after that posting will be back on regular times🙂‍↕️

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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myeuphoricmindset · 7 months ago

Text

Let me remind you

(middle photo credit: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

Paring | Eddie Munson x fem!blind reader

Summary | Reader is blind and Eddie is utterly obsessed with you, going out of his way to play you music and read to you. It’s simply a friendship, but he can’t stop himself from crossing the line.

Notes/tags | That’s correct, the reader is blind. I do not mean to write this in any way that would be insensitive; I just loved the idea of seeing Eddie care for someone who has a disability. The way he would be so sweet and go above and beyond. If this fic rubs anyone the wrong way or makes anyone uncomfortable, please let me know, and I’ll remove it. My intentions are pure. It’s a very sweet fic with the vibes of what it feels like to be young and in love. — No smut, but there is making out, and it feels very sensual. Also, cheesy AF.

I do switch back and forth with povs, don’t expect this to go by the writers rules.

— Oh, I listened to Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine while writing this. But what’s new? I always write Eddie fics to that song, even years later.

Word count | 2.1k

Eddie always met you outside. He waits on his porch, finishing his cigarette, and the moment he sees you approaching, he gets up quickly to close the distance, taking your hand to guide you to his place. He loves the excuse to touch you. He’s not greedy either; just your hand in his makes him secretly giddy. He’s focused on it the whole way to his room, even though he’s talking your ear off about a new song he wrote.

Nothing about this is new or different. Eddie inviting you over to play music and talk well into the night has become normal. A friendship that never crosses the line, but Jesus Christ, he thinks of crossing the line all the time. He wonders if your touch would feel different if it was reaching out with love instead of friendship. He doesn’t dare feed into his thoughts of how your kiss would feel and if his name would sound different if you moaned it into his ear.

He admires you as he strums his guitar, only half-focused on the song. By now he’s memorized every curve of your face and has counted every lash on your eyes. It feels wrong to stare, knowing he can’t be caught. Can you feel his gaze?

You’re lying in your usual spot on his bed, surrounded by his scent in the sheets. You try to hide the deep inhales you take as if it were the last time you’d be here. But, it’s not. You’ll be back tomorrow, as you always are.

He plays beautifully, and you try not to smile because he plays softer for you than he does during his shows. Is he nervous to scare you off? He never could.

“I love it,” you say as he finishes the song.

He smiles, and you know because it’s laced with his voice, “You do?”

The sound of his guitar being placed on the wall mount is familiar, followed by the radio on his dresser being turned on. It’s only for background noise. Eddie hates silence, and you can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t like to sit with his thoughts.

You both lie on his bed in deep conversation with no sense of time. Eddie lazily plays with small strands of your hair with the hand draped behind his head. Does he realize that you notice every time he does it? It makes your stomach flutter.

“Read to me?” you ask as you shift onto your stomach, feet rising up behind you.

Eddie takes a moment to speak, but you hear his breath hitch, and when he does speak, his breath is warm against your face. He shouldn’t be surprised by your question as he reads to you every night, but maybe it’s the way you’re closer to him than before.

Your bodies aren’t touching, but there is a sense of intimacy with the way he’s lying on his back, most likely looking up at you, and the way you’re on your stomach, nearly looming over him.

Unsure if he’s uncomfortable by the way his breathing becomes uneven, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your water, trying to make it seem like you’re giving him a little space. When you return to your position, you’re a few inches away from him.

You realize you were wrong about him feeling uncomfortable because when Eddie grabs The Return of the King off his dresser, he returns to the bed even closer than before.

His arm touches yours as he lies back on the bed, and you can’t take your mind off of it. It gently moves against yours as he turns the page.

“Now, where were we?” he says as the sound of pages turning fills the room. “Aha, here it is.” His smile is audible in his words. “You’ll like this part.”

Eddie begins to read. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing to your ears. He makes you giggle occasionally with his exaggerated voices for certain characters. His laughter matches your own, and even though he’s read this book a hundred times, it feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time with you.

As he continues, there’s a subtle change in his tone that you can’t quite place until you listen closely to the words. Two characters in the book kiss, and the way Eddie reads the description makes your stomach flutter more than the romance he’s narrating. You feel your cheeks heat up and lower your head to your arms to hide it.

Eddie chuckles softly, saying your name, “Are you blushing?”

“No!”

You bury your face deeper into your arms, breathing in his scent from the sheets. You would give anything to sink into the mattress, completely enveloped by his smell.

He calls your name again, clearly amused by your reaction. His fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you, forcing you out of hiding. You burst into laughter, trying to grab his hands to push him away, but your laughter only encourages him.

“Look at you. You’re so red you might pop,” he teases, continuing to tickle you.

“Stop,” you manage to say between fits of laughter.

You struggle to fight back, and Eddie laughs at your attempts. Your stomach begins to hurt from the laughter, your breathing becomes ragged, and your hair covers your face from the tussle.

Both of you finally give up, gasping for air. Eddie plops down beside you, the weight of his body next to yours so familiar that you long for it when you’re alone in your own bed.

“I’ve never seen you blush that hard before,” he says, amused.

You can feel his stare, which only makes you blush more. “Can you stop?” you groan, playfully shoving his arm.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me. I can feel it.”

He scoffs, “I’m not staring at you.”

You sit up and demand his bandana. He protests in confusion, but once he understands, he relents. Sitting up directly in front of you, you lift your chin with a sense of victory.

“Because I don’t believe you, this is what I must do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated though he’s smiling like a fool. “If this pleases you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. Reaching out, your fingertips touch the corner of his mouth, feeling it curve up against your touch. His face is smooth, and you take advantage of the moment to trace your fingers across it, finding their way to his hair. He remains silent, but his breathing is slightly heavier—something only you would notice.

His hair is soft, and you resist the urge to twirl his curls around your finger. Instead, you wrap the bandana around his eyes and tie it tightly behind his head.

“Oh,” he says with surprise, followed by a chuckle. “A little tight, huh?”

“Can’t have you peeking.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks.

Your hands drop into your lap as you smile. “Mm, I’m still deciding.”

But that was a lie. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. There were many people you trusted to be alone with, but as you’ve spent time with him, he’s proven that you’re safe with him. The best feeling is being completely vulnerable and knowing without a doubt that the person you count on with your vulnerability handles it with care.

“So, this is what it’s like for you?” he asks softly.

“Something like that.”

The room is silent, the radio off since before he started reading the book you’ve both abandoned. The only sounds are his breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning. But you notice the parting of his lips and the sudden, yet soft, intake of breath as if he were going to say something but decided not to.

“What is it?” you ask.

He clears his throat as if caught and takes a breath. “Can you…touch me?” You’re nearly taken back by that until he speaks up in a rushed sentence. “Uh, sorry, I —uh, I mean, my arm or face. Show me how it feels for you.”

Your heart warms at his request. And you gladly give him what he wants. Your fingers meet his face again and you admire all the softness. You trace the lines and curves, imagining if he’s as beautiful as he feels. Eddie sits there still for a while, softly breathing.

Then his hands grasp your wrists and lower them to your lap. “My turn,” he says as his fingers begin to move up your arms. Goosebumps break out over your skin, and you try your best to control your breathing, knowing he can hear if it catches in your throat.

His calloused fingers brush against your soft skin, but you don’t mind. One hand drops from your arm and takes hold of one of your hands. You fight back a smile, knowing his fingers tracing your features are close enough to feel your reaction. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. It feels incredibly intimate, just the sound of his breathing matching yours as time seems to slow.

He breaks the silence. “You’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks out on your face. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you look like.” His tone is serious yet soft, almost as if he’s in deep thought.

He lets go of your hand and cups your other cheek. Your face fits perfectly between his warm hands.

“Eddie…” you say, wanting to ask what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. But your words fall short as you feel his thumb brush over your bottom lip.

“Tell me you feel this.”

He doesn’t mean his gentle touch on your lips, and you know that. The electrical current between you two could light up Hawkins. He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest. Your breath catches at the feeling of his heart thumping wildly against your palm. It’s so strong that you think it might burst out of his chest and right into your hands.

“Yes,” you answer him.

“Tell me I can kiss you.”

Your stomach flutters so fast that you feel like you could float away. “Yes.”

There is a moment of stillness in the room, time frozen. The sound of you both breathing dulls out and you lose feeling in your cheeks at his touch as you await his lips on yours.

He’s so gentle and slow. His lips meet yours and you welcome it, nearly melting into him. The kisses are soft and lazy, as if you both are drunk off each other. Your hands are in his hair and he moans at the feeling. Heat forms in your lower belly and you can’t help yourself when you crawl into his lap.

“Yes,” he breathes as he welcomes you into his embrace. His arms wrapping tightly around your back, rubbing his hands up and down your back while still kissing you.

His tongue brushes your lower lip and you open your mouth to taste him. He’s perfect. He’s all you feel and taste, nearly drowning in him. His bandana is still tightly secured around his eyes and you wonder if he’s consumed by you as well.

Eddie starts kissing your neck and your head drops to the side in pleasure. His hand wraps around your head, keeping you in place as he begins to suck softly in the right spot. You moan and you feel his smile against your skin.

“There it is,” he mumbles, before finding your lips again. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Stop.” You mutter against his kiss, fighting back a smile. Your cheeks turn hot and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten around you and you sink further into his arms. You both stay like that for a few minutes, resting in each other's arms. You feel him inhale you deeply before he starts stroking your hair.

“You may not realize how beautiful you are,” he says as he begins to play with your hair. “But, I don’t mind reminding you every day.”

“Would you?” You whisper.

“I’ll take your hand, tell you in great detail about the world around us while reminding you how it doesn’t even compare to you.” He kisses your shoulder. “Not even close.”

The smile that spreads across your face is almost painful. “You have such a way with words.”

He takes your face in his hands, “I do write songs, sweetheart.”

With that, he kisses you with such passion that you fall back onto the mattress, giggles spilling from your lips as Eddie turns your darkness into light.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff

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pforestsims · 10 months ago

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Here's a replacement for electric guitar, University EP.

Superflux ÜberUV Default

Recolors & decorative add-ons

Download: SFS | BOX

Polycount: 2110 (was ~850). Textures are 1024x512 px, I also included 3 amplifier recolors, 512x512 px. New guitar mesh is not 100% compatible with old recolors although some of those might look ok. Texture PSD with layers is here (SFS).

Updated 07.04.2024- Deco guitar floor stand can be placed on surfaces without moveObjects cheat

*This is for The Sims 2

More pics under the cut:

>> If guitar recolors don't show up in your game - apparently there's some kind of conflicting CC object that's causing this. No idea what it is tho. <<

Included add-ons feature guitar stand and wall-mounted guitar. Of course these require my default to work.

Default guitar features: mesh, textures, TXMTs and SHPE resource.

The original guitar is a peculiar mix of cordoba stage guitar and Gretsch electric guitar. The strings are missing for some reason.

I separated some parts as non-recolourable subsets with new 256x256 px texture. There are two color versions to choose from.

FYI I've edited amplifier recolors after taking the pics so these look a little different.

Here's how recolor for original mesh looks like on my default. It's this one by Michelle.

#sims 2 #the sims 2 #ts2 cc #ts2 defaults #ts2 decor

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wing-ed-thing · 1 year ago

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Being Dumb and 12-Years-Old with Team 7 Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Being 12, Mixed AU

𓆃 Genin are a different breed of insufferable. Because they do such heavy, "adult" work, the times genin get to be kids, they almost double down and have to get a certain amount of thoughtlessness out of their system.

Naruto

𓆃 Naruto is just spending money on useless things. He has no idea how to handle money at all and will pay for things in the lowest coin denomination possible.

𓆃 He's a sucker for "limited-time" snacks, no matter what the flavor, and he's paying for everything with the lowest denomination possible.

𓆃 So you're standing at the cash register with your two "spicy pickle and cream" flavored onigiri while the poor cashier has to count 200 1ryō coins.

𓆃 And even after all of that, Naruto will be short.

𓆃 Naruto will be too loud and laugh too much in public spaces. He can't keep his hands off anything and will get you kicked out of at least one (1) business every few weeks.

𓆃 Will go into a business without buying anything and just sit down and hang out. Has absolutely no social anxiety and will stay completely oblivious to the clear mounting frustration on the employee's face until he's asked to leave.

𓆃 Be prepared to apologize for him a million times or instead you can validate to him that he totally didn't do anything wrong— what was that guy's problem?

𓆃 Then you're going back to his apartment, trying to eat spicy noodles— that were actually far too spicy for either of you but neither of you are admitting that— and getting into scream debates over TV shows until the neighbors are banging on the wall because you're being too loud.

𓆃 He's also showing you the grossest things the internet has to offer and traumatizing you for life.

Sakura

𓆃 You and Sakura think you're such mature little adults, meanwhile, you're getting all anxious about the passive aggressive fights you're getting into with your peers.

𓆃 And in true 12-year-old fashion, no one is beefing with each other to their faces, but you sure as hell are sending each other to talk to other people and then report back to you.

𓆃 You once texted Ino's "ex-boyfriend" just asking, "Is this ___?” He threatened to call the authorities and Sakura and Ino had to calm you down for the rest of the night.

𓆃 You think you're being sneaky using the samples from the beauty store to put make up on, and looking back you're baffled you didn't get an infection.

𓆃 Any underwear outside of standard cotton panties is scandalous and terrifying, and there was definitely a time you all bought a lacy undergarment together and worried for a solid hour how to get them home without your parents knowing.

𓆃 You never wore them. Your parents never found out.

𓆃 Sakura and Ino gave you a make over during a sleepover once, even though their version of make up was just very caked on foundation and boxy eyebrows.

𓆃 Every so often, the three of you will pair off and have fights with each other. You and Sakura will have a fight that Ino "mediates." You'll "mediate" a fight between Sakura and Ino... and totally take sides. You'll tell Sakura that Ino's wrong, and Ino that Sakura is wrong.

𓆃 The fights don't last long and usually result in some tears shed and ice cream bought.

Sasuke

𓆃 Sasuke touts himself as a sort of wiz on the piano or perhaps on the guitar, when in reality, he just learned to play three songs really well.

𓆃 He won't outwardly flex, but you can tell he likes to be recognized for it. He'd whip the skill out on days he's feeling particularly down.

𓆃 He'll tell you that you're going to "start a band," but you "won't be like other music groups that just want to get famous". But in reality, when you go over to his place, you'll just end up eating junk food, playing games, and won't ever actually touch an instrument.

𓆃 The closest you'll get is karaoke, but if you ever mention it ever again Sasuke won't talk to you for a week.

𓆃 And he's not immune to sending someone back and forth with messages to you because he's not talking to you. But "not in the way girls do," whatever that means.

𓆃 He’ll also accidentally download something shady from a shady website one night after going down some obscure internet rabbit hole, and Sasuke will say he's not worried about it, but he'll call you when you get home hyperventilating about how worried he is about it.

𓆃 You'll try to learn how to ride the latest form of transportation on wheels together, but the moment Sasuke discovers he's not instantly good at it he'll get mad at you for being better than he is even though it's only been 10 minutes and are you really that better than he is?

𓆃 Only posing for pictures with a scowl and hands clasped in front of you. Bonus points if your head is tilted back. These are photos you and Sasuke hide when you're older.

𓆃 Coming up with nicknames for yourselves and subtly trying to encourage other people to start calling you those nicknames.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: No offense to any 12 year olds in the audience. Being your age is universally a cringe time it's okay it's a right of passage.

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burningembers91 · 20 days ago

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The Sweetest Song - Kang Dae-Ho x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Voice Like Honey Tennessee Whiskey Bruises

Synopsis: As Kang Dae-Ho prepares to return to work, a figure from his past shows up.

Kang Dae-Ho had always thought your singing voice was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard; but that was before he’d made love to you. Your soft moans were heavenly, the way you said his name as he fucked you was the most beautiful sound in the world. You clung to him; your fingers entwined in his hair as he thrust into you. You fit so perfectly underneath him, your thighs wrapped round his waist, holding him in place as you moved together. “Harder,” you whispered, “I need it harder.” Dae-Ho could never say no to you, could never deny you anything. He fucked you harder, your moans punctuated with each thrust into your slick, tight walls. You were heavenly, pure perfection.

He could feel you getting close, could feel your body shaking against him as you neared the brink of ecstasy. He wanted you to come apart for him, wanted to feel your tight walls quiver around him. “Come on, baby,” he whispered, peppering sweet, soft kisses along your jawline. “Let go.”

You loved it when he guided you, told you exactly what he wanted you to do. He was so gentle with you, unless you told him otherwise, but his ability to make you fall apart using only his words set your senses alight.

His hand snaked down between your bodies, the pad of his thumb pressing circles against your clit. His touch was your undoing, the sounds you made as you gave yourself to him was all he needed. With a guttural moan, Dae-Ho spilled himself inside you, your tight walls still quivering from your own orgasm.

You lay in bed together, both of you knowing you had to start work soon, but neither of wanting to leave the comfortable confines of your bed. Smoothing his hair away from his face, you looked up at him, his soft brown eyes gazing at you with such love. “We need to get ready for work,” you sighed.

It was Dae-Ho’s first shift back at the bar since the fight, and both of you were feeling apprehensive. His bruises and cuts had all but faded, but he was still scared to return. He’d felt helpless that night, unable to defend himself. If he hadn’t been dragged away, if you hadn’t been there to help him… well, the alternative didn’t bare thinking about. You could tell he was struggling, but when you asked him if was ok, he just smiled and told you he was fine.

The bar was just as busy as it always was, patrons spilling out into the courtyard outside as the sun set. Dae-Ho was greeted by his colleagues and regulars, slotting back into his routine like he’d never left. He was on high alert though, constantly on the look out for the man who’d beaten him to the ground. You kept your eye on him, your gaze meeting throughout the night, soft smiles exchanged. You were both singing soon, and you knew that Dae-Ho would lose himself in the music, momentarily forgetting his troubles. Whenever he sang, nothing else to seemed to matter. And when he sang with you, it was like the world stood still.

You mounted the stage together, guitars in hand as you began your set. As always, the bar descended into silence; the two of you commanded the room with your performance. Dae-Ho forgot to be scared while he was singing, forgot to look for the man who’d stalked his dreams the last few weeks.

He was so wrapped in the music that he didn’t notice the figure by the doorway, the woman with the same shaped nose and wide smile as his. His sister has been searching for her little brother for months, leaving no stone unturned in her search. Someone had posted a video of his little bust up in Instagram, and she’d managed to track him down.

She was biding her time, waiting for the right moment to approach him. He’d changed a lot since she’d last seen him; he’d grown his hair, bulked up, had gotten a few tattoos. He also had you by his side, a woman she’d never seen before. Your set finished, and Dae-Ho leaned in to kiss you. whoever you were, it must be serious. Her brother wasn’t one for relationships, so you must be something special. She headed back out into the city, deciding to come back another day. the bar was too busy, and her baby brother looked too happy to interrupt.

But sooner or later, their dad would get wind of where he was. And his sister wanted to warn Dae-Ho before he did.

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