#inhaler one shot

[leaawrites]

just read your inhaler imagines and loved them!

You could make an imagine for elijah hewson with the song „don’t delete the kisses“- wolf alice or „to love“- suki waterhouse, i think they fit him well xx

To Love

Eli Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: a quiet night, shared by whispers and confessions.

Warnings: fluff, none; I did a bit of both songs, but more suki :)

Wordcount: 0.9k

Masterlist

The light on the bedside table was still on while they both fell asleep and she let it burn as she was now wide awake, watching him breath in contempt.

She wanted to brush the hair falling into his face out of his eyes to admire him more properly, the lamp casting a shadow at all the right places. How could anyone be this beautiful? she thought, her breath catching itself in the back of her throat in order to not come out too harsh and wake him. It was all coming down on her in this moment of silence, the endless possibilities of how her life could’ve changed if they’d have never met. How and where would she be now? Next to who would she be laying instead? A stranger she never got to meet or the lingering ghost of his existence that she could feel deep in her heart but never quite catch with her fingers? Would he only be a grain of sand slipping through her fingers like all the other people she walked past on the streets or sat next to on the subway?

She hoped not. She hoped that in whichever point of life they’d have met otherwise it would’ve ended the same; with them next to each other in every situation.

“What’s wrong?” She didn’t notice him waking, neither opening her eyes until he spoke, grabbing her attention from her thoughts and making her concentrate on him once more. She didn’t even notice the tear slipping from her eye until his finger gently wiped it away, pulling her closer by her waist in the process. His lips lingering on her forehead while Y/n nuzzled her head into his chest, inhaling his scent to remind herself that this was real. This wasn’t some fantasy she didn’t want to wake up from ever again, he was here with her, holding her, caring for her. He was here and she wouldn’t let him slip away ever again.

“What do you think would’ve happened if we never met?” she asked, not looking at him. She could feel him breath in deeply, trying to make the oxygen float up to his brain and start working faster. What would’ve happened if…? The one question with a million different answers.

“I would’ve been the most miserable man in the world,” Eli answered, chuckling at the thought of him being slumped in a corner of his childhood bedroom with a guitar in his hands a notebook written full of sad songs from a love he never had. “The guys probably would’ve had to throw me out of the band for being as miserable as I would’ve been.”

“I doubt it,” she answered honestly, making him frown. “You wouldn’t have known that I exist, so how would you have missed me?”

“I think, I would’ve known. Before I met you, I always thought that part of me wasn’t with me, something had always been missing,” he spoke into the night like it was a confessional of his feelings. “Until I met you. I’ve felt complete ever since.”

If the stars could fall to once words, she believed it would be his voice they would fall for. All the lights of the sky coming down to listen to him in a way they never heard anyone talk before. With a voice so soft and words so delicate yet threatening. The poets say, that nothing gold can stay, but in her heart she knew that this was the only truth she’d ever hold on to. This was pure and rich and beautiful. Nothing would ever be quite the same as this. Nothing would ever be quite as beautiful as his eyes in the moonlight.

“I never thought that you’d actually want to go out with me after I asked you the first time.” The necklace around his neck, which once laid on his chest, was now being twisted in between her fingers. Her eyes focused on the shiny metal instead of his gaze that lingered on her like always. In his eyes she was the most beautiful thing to look at, the only valuable waste of his time. Though laying next to her, simply breathing as one, felt like it was all they were ever meant to be. Besides their work and fame and family, this was what they were looking forward to in life. The quietness of simply loving. “I never thought that love was meant for me.”

“I never thought that I was able to love the way I do now.” A light breeze came in from the open window beside them, flying over the body. Making her shiver and letting goosebumps appear on her skin. Leaning down, Eli pulled the blanket higher over their bodies, hugging her closer to him than she already was to make her more comfortable. He knew how much she hated the cold laying over her body. He wouldn’t let her freeze if he was near.

“I couldn’t wish for a better love than yours.” Looking up at him, Eli wore a lazy smile on his face in her eyes, though in reality he simply couldn’t stop thanking god for letting him have her by his side at this very moment. All the endless hours of disbelief in himself and rotting in the doubts of ever having a love worth living for, they seemed like a gift now. They lead him to her in the end, at the right time.

If this wasn’t love that would last forever, he didn’t know what was.

[dennisboobs]

7x10 // How Mac Got Fat

↳ Charlie & Dennis + getting high together

[storiesabouteli]

TellTales // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff) Part1 of 2.

prompt: It's a narration of how they are young and in a way they share differences, but they are in love. It takes place in a student environment (college) and continues with a car trip and in the next part reader meets the boys, the fic is just about how they feel about each other in the midst of everyday life and a relationship that is new. And although I commented on sexual relations, I did not describe the act itself, there is no smut. (This story is from my old blog, it's very old, and I decided to rewrite it)

words: 3K

You tiptoed your way through the bleachers, scanning the crowd for him. You hadn’t explicitly asked him to come, but you’d dropped enough hints to hope he’d show up. Deep down, you understood if he couldn’t make it, but the thought of him not being there still left a pang of sadness.

Either way, he’d be picking you up shortly after the game ended. You’d agreed to spend the weekend with some of his bandmates and their girlfriends. You recognized them from glimpses in the hallways and the gigs you’d attended, but meaningful interactions with them had been rare. You were aware of the reputation you’d unintentionally acquired in that social circle but didn’t let it bother you.

You hadn’t dated much in life. In fact, Elijah was the only person you’d ever been involved with—both emotionally and physically. While that choice sometimes stirred whispers or the occasional mean-spirited comment, it was clear that most people didn’t care, if anything, they just found it curious.

“How was last night?” your best friend asked, a knowing smirk on her face. Judging by your expression, she already suspected the answer.

“It was… great,” you admitted, the butterflies in your stomach still fluttering from the memory. Your hands felt clammy, and your nervous cheeks were impossible to hide.

“Was sex with Elijah really that good?” There was a teasing edge in her tone, but you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or sarcastic. You elbowed her, though the heat in your face only deepened.

“Did he take charge? Or was all the work left to you?” she continued, her grin widening. You rolled your eyes, but her playful jab stayed in your head longer than you’d care to admit.

Hiding your face in your hands, you realized she just wanted to embarrass you. Asking her to lower her voice, she laughed and agreed, though it was clear she expected more details. It was your first time with Eli, and you’d been nervous—something entirely unusual for you from her perspective. Naturally, she wanted to know everything.

You decided to keep most of it to yourself, knowing she’d get the picture. You settled on something simple: “He’s not shy, but in a good way. He’s... observant, and he made good use of that. He’s fine,” you said, biting your lip to contain a smile. But the memory of him holding you, the way his hands moved so assuredly, and the soft sighs and muffled moans you’d shared—it all came flooding back, making your heart crazy. You didn’t know how, but it had been intimate and irresistibly sexy, leaving you on the brink of tears from the overwhelming connection. You couldn’t wait to be with him again.

She nodded knowingly, her expression softening at your obvious happiness. “It’s nice that you have him. I’m glad for you. He seems like a great guy.”

Her words made you smile, but they also left you feeling a little unsettled. Eli was your complete opposite in so many ways. You had no doubts that he liked you, but the thought of him realizing how easily he could find someone better lingered in your mind.

You were popular, but it was something that had happened by accident rather than design. You didn’t care about it much, though you appreciated the “good girl” image that came with it. Eli, on the other hand, had a laid-back, effortlessly cool demeanor. He wasn’t concerned with appearances and didn’t seem to care about what others thought. Maybe that was something you needed to learn from him.

Even your interests didn’t align much, but so far, things had been going well.

Lost in your thoughts, your friend shook your shoulders, snapping you back to reality. She turned you toward the crowd, and her grin widened when she saw your face light up. There he was—his messy curls catching the light.

“Damn, you really got Hewson to come to a college game,” she teased.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously. It wasn’t exactly his scene. The echoing cheers of the players and the squeals of the cheerleaders were likely grating to him, but there he was, leaning casually in the back corner. You tried not to let your nerves spiral as you wondered how he felt about all this, about you.

Before you could respond, you spotted him in the distance. Your heart skipped a beat. He looked serious, like he’d rather be anywhere else, and for a moment, doubt crept in. But then his eyes found yours. His expression softened, his hands in his jacket pockets, and his lips curled into a small smile.

You waved enthusiastically, and to your relief, he lit up, waving back just as excitedly. He brushed his hair back, standing still in that secluded spot, and blew you a kiss. A few people nearby noticed, and his cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t seem to care. Your Eli was there.

You threw him a kiss in return, and with his typical playful flair, he pretended to catch it, tucking it into his pocket. It was such a simple, teasing gesture, yet it made your heart swell. He might not love the setting, but he was there for you.

As you turned back to your position on the court, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him. He looked proud, as though being there and seeing you so happy made everything worth it.

The performance began, and you gave it your all—the dances, the spins, the choreography. A small part of you felt self-conscious, knowing he was watching. While you were sure he wouldn’t judge you, this wasn’t his thing, and you worried about what he thought.

But when your eyes found his again, there was no doubt. It was you. He was there because of you. And that was all that mattered.

The game ended, and as you and the girls announced the final score, thanking everyone for coming, your focus was already elsewhere. You didn’t even register who was speaking to you as you made your way toward Eli. His smile didn’t falter, and he opened his arms wide, waiting for you.

Instinctively, you ran into him, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you with ease, lifting you slightly off the ground as his arms tightened around you. Without hesitation, he adjusted your skirt, his hand lingering protectively to keep it in place. You had noticed this habit of his before, and though you found it sweet, you hadn’t told him yet that you always wore shorts underneath. You were sure he knew, but the gesture was heartwarming.

You buried your face in his hair, letting the softness of his curls surround you. He nuzzled into your neck in return, inhaling deeply as if to draw comfort from your scent. For a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, while the noise and chaos of the game faded into the background.

When your feet touched the ground again, you lingered there, gazing at one another in a rare moment of silence. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth in his caramel eyes and the soft curve of his lips.

You took a small step further, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. It wasn’t tentative—it was the kind of kiss that spoke volumes, a mixture of longing and familiarity. You could taste the faint trace of gum on his tongue, a detail you’d remember fondly later. His hands trailed over your sides, light and deliberate, grounding you in the moment. He felt like calm, like home, and you melted into him, despite the murmurs and stares from the crowd.

The kiss ended quickly but left a deep impression. His hands stayed firmly on your waist, keeping you close, while your gaze was on his lips, too shy to meet his eyes just yet. He broke the silence with a soft kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, dotting your skin with gentle pecks that made you nervous. He always did this, and every time, it made you fall for him all over again.

“Sorry for being late,” he said, his voice low and apologetic. “Josh needed the car.” He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders in one smooth motion, pausing to kiss the top of your head. “Keep it—you look cold.”

You clutched the jacket tightly, enveloped by his warmth and the faint smell of him in the fabric. “I don’t mind,” you replied, light and genuine. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, intertwining your fingers. “I know this isn’t your favorite place, so it means a lot to me that you came tonight.”

Eli didn’t respond right away, his mind swirling with thoughts about the people around him, whom he saw as unremarkable, living to meet expectations rather than exploring life’s possibilities. It was an opinion he had once extended to you, long before he became enamored with the way you danced, your laugh ringing through the halls, and your quiet determination to pursue what you loved. Now, he saw you differently. You weren’t just going through the motions—you genuinely enjoyed being there, with your friends and your passions.

Such a realization had led him to fill your locker with letters—awkward yet heartfelt, each building the bridge to this very moment.

He rubbed his thumb over your palm, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’ll be here as many times as necessary,” he murmured. “I like to see you happy.”

His words made your goofy smile return full force. He placed a hand gently on the small of your back, guiding you toward his car.

Eli’s ears were still flushed as he opened the door for you, and you couldn’t help but wish for more of that.

...

He sifted through his belongings, handpicking a few tapes and placing them on your lap. "Pick one," he said, anticipation lacing his voice.

You scanned the options before spotting a familiar purple cover. "Oh my God, it's Kate Bush!" you exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. It was surreal. Even as he kept his eyes on the road, his presence filled the small, borrowed car.

"Josh mentioned you were a fan," he said casually.

"And you went and got it for me?" you asked eagerly, pressing play without hesitation.

He nodded, watching your smile grow with every note.

Before he could say anything, you squealed and leaned over to kiss his cheek quickly, careful to avoid causing any accidents. Feeling at ease with him, you mimicked Kate’s vocals, exaggerating your facial expressions to match the drama of her delivery. He chuckled, thankful to Josh for tipping him off about the tape.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, lil' one," he murmured, his voice warm. Your enthusiasm for the lyrics matched his quiet contentment in seeing you well.

He didn’t know the words or the instrumentation but encouraged you to keep going, like your number-one fan.

"Did you know David Gilmour kind of discovered Kate Bush?" you asked between breaths.

"I’ve heard that somewhere," he replied, prompting you to share more. He liked Pink Floyd, you knew that.

"It’s like we’re all interconnected, isn’t it?" you mused, glancing at him solemnly before turning back to the road, tapping the melody out with your fingers. "I kind of like the thought of it."

"Yeah, it’s a nice thought," he agreed, his chest filling with a quiet warmth. Not ready to let the conversation fade, he added, "So, have you been checking out any of the bands I like?"

The world seemed to slow down for a moment. You noticed the softness in Eli’s features, a rare, relaxed smile that only appeared when he was with you. In other settings—classes, the cafeteria, gigs—he maintained his usual unbothered demeanor, some cool smiles yet nothing more, which you found charming, but this version of him was your favorite.

He placed his large hand gently on your thigh, not moving it but bringing you a sense of comfort. You fingered the rings and felt the more prominent veins on his skin. Smiling, you placed your hand over his, threading your fingers through his long ones. Even brief touches like this filled you with quiet joy.

"I have," you admitted, feeling a little shy. "I wanted to hear what you liked, and I found one I really enjoyed."

His eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, you feared he might crash the car. But Eli, ever grounded, kept things steady. "No way! You've reached Blackstar?"

The thing was, you already knew Bowie, of course, but Eli saw him through a unique lens. He had favorite albums and endless commentary about every track. After spending hours with you the night before, he’d gone home, obsessed with crafting a perfect playlist to introduce you to his idol. He never imagined you’d actually listen.

"I did," you confirmed, suppressing a laugh at his attempt to maintain his unbothered facade, though it failed to hide the goofy smile creeping onto his face.

You grinned and began to sing, “Just like that bluebird, oh, I’ll be free…” pretending to hold a microphone.

He smiled as if he’d just won the lottery. “Just like that bluebird, oh, I’ll be free. Ain’t that just like me…” he sang back, pouring affection into every note.

Bowie’s words felt like home, like the perfect bridge between you. Eli never spared feelings when it came to sharing his passions, not like that, not for any special one, even when he initially thought your differences might be too vast. He was starting to see the beauty in complementing perspectives.

You loved Bowie, though not quite as much as he did. And, much like him with Kate Bush, you were learning to appreciate the depth of the connection through each other’s eyes.

...

You were asleep, your hand resting on Eli's arm as he drove down the empty highway. He glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched you sleep peacefully.

Suddenly, as if your mind had been waiting for it, you jolted awake, gasping for air and clutching your chest. Your body trembled as you struggled to catch your breath.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Eli said, his tone soothing as he reached over, gently rubbing your back. "Just take deep breaths with me, huh?"

You nodded, your eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry," you whispered, guilt heavy in your voice.

"Don't be sorry," Elijah said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You're not bothering me. I just want to make sure you're fine, babe. Are you good?"

Leaning back against the seat, you inhaled deeply, trying to calm yourself. "It's just...a nightmare. I get them sometimes, and they're always hard to shake off."

"I see," Elijah murmured. "I've been there with you before, remember?" His sweet smile softened his words as he squeezed your hand. And it was true-it wasn't the first time, and you didn't need to feel ashamed. "We'll get through this, okay?"

Pulling the car to the side of the road, he opened the windows and doors to let in the crisp, early morning air. You sat quietly, watching as the sky began to shift, the first rays of dawn painting the horizon with soft light.

"It's so nice, quite beautiful," you murmured, feeling an odd sense of peace settling over you. Small but present, a reminder that he didn’t see you as a problem to be dealt with.

Eli nodded. "Yeah, it is. Like you, when you're comfortable like this," he added, immediately regretting his words, fearing they might sound wrong.

You smiled warmly, your face heating at his unintended confession, making Eli relax. "Thank you."

He reached into the backseat and grabbed a comforter, draping it over you with care. He made sure you were snug and warm, his movements gentle as he tucked you in.

Stopping briefly, he stood silently by the car, watching you shift restlessly under the duvet. Your eyes stayed locked on him, steady and observant. Though your breathing had calmed, you didn't seem ready to sleep again.

"Do you want me to stay here until you sleep?" His voice carried a mix of awkwardness and worry.

"No," you said after a pause, your gaze lingering on his hands gripping the steering wheel and the way his lips were reddened from nervous biting. Your breath hitched faintly, betraying your unease. "Actually, we could stay here for a while." You loosened the duvet, the warmth of the moment overtaking your earlier chill.

He arched a brow, his features shadowed in the dim light. "Okay, but you feel good, right?”

"Yeah, just can't sleep," you admitted, your hand brushing over his shoulder and trailing to the back of his neck, seeking the comfort of his warmth. "Come closer. I want to feel you." You tugged him toward you, your words low and certain.

And Eli had that moment of realization, noticing how different you were from what others perceived, from the image they had built of you. He loved that—that this raw, genuine side of you was something only he had access to.

Eli hesitated for a second before leaning in, his nose brushing against your cheek. His lips met yours, soft and hesitant at first, contrasting with the sudden urgency in your touch. He melted into the seat, his hand naturally finding your waist as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven. The darkness obscured his face, but you could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

"I like how you taste," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The warmth of his breath brushed your skin as you trailed kisses from his lips to his nose, playfully licking his parted mouth along the way.

Your laughter filled the car when you noticed how flustered he had become. You relished the effect you had on him, thinking about how you might use it to your advantage in the future.

Before Eli could lean in for another kiss, his usual lovesick expression plastered on his face, you leaned closer, your voice dropping to a mischievous whisper.

"I need a favor, if you don't mind.”

...

You stopped in a dark, desolate spot, your hand crazy with sweat as nerves took hold. Elijah could tell you were uneasy about being out in the middle of nowhere.

"El, I don’t want to be alone," you murmured, your voice drowsy but trembling with it all.

He didn’t question it, just as he didn’t even consider leaving you behind. Truthfully, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of braving the rickety gas station alone either, even if it was just to relieve himself.

He nodded, his expression steady, trying to ease the tension in your own. The worry was etched across your face, and Elijah knew you tended to spiral into pessimistic thoughts in situations like this. He couldn’t begin to guess the scenarios playing out in your mind, but he was determined to dispel them.

"Look," he said quickly, color rushing to his cheeks and necks, "I’ll step outside, stay by the car, and just use the tree right here. I won’t go far, I won’t leave your sight, and I’ll shut the door so you’ll still feel safe. Just, uh… don’t look, y’know? That’d be awkward."

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as your hands fumbled for the radio, turning up the volume to drown out any sound from outside. It was a flimsy attempt to preserve the boundary of intimacy, even for something as brief and mundane as this. Still, you couldn’t deny his plan made sense, even if it left you feeling slightly on edge.

—

Part 2 will be posted soon! Promise!

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Ok so I’m fucking exhausted, preparing for college and I just wanted to post something because I feel like I haven’t been enough so have this. (This is a smidge unedited, let me know what you think )

Balls

Eddie hates the gym. For numerous reasons.

A) It constantly smells like a monkeys asshole

B) Half the class acts and looks like a monkeys ass

And C) it’s just to fucking loud. The sneakers were constantly rubbing just the right amount on the floor, in result a horrible squeaking noise echoed through the gym. Sometimes if he squints hard enough there’s a little skid mark from the shoe that made the noise. It was worst than nails scratching on a chalk board. Honestly, Eddie would prefer to be put right in between that toy monkeys symbols. Maybe then it could knock some sense into him about not failing senior year.

They were in their basketball unit. Still. It feels like it’s been months since they’ve started it. But the gym teacher was set on finding recruits for the Hawkins championship. From what Eddie’s heard, Steve Harrington can no longer play. And from the way the guys face was caved in he’s surprised he didn’t also get a ‘get out of school’ free card. But nope, there he was sitting in the bleachers. Eyes drifting back between people, though the way his mouth fell open a bit and how is eyes were glossed over it was very obvious he wasn’t paying attention. He was somewhere else.

Slam! And now, Eddie really wishes he could be where ever the fuck Steve has the privilege to be while Jason Carver purposely spikes a ball into Eddie’s chest. Knocking the wind out of him, hands still wrapped around the ball as everyone around him starts to laugh.

Eddie’s nose scrunches up a bit as he moves aiming the ball at another jock who wanted it. Not caring that it did not go the way he intended to, and instead hit the coach in the back of the head. He makes a oopsie face. Hearing the laughter getting louder. He acts like he threw it at him on purpose, that would be less embarrassing then everyone figuring out he didn’t have the hand coordination to play ball. (Even though he was great on guitar)

The coach’s face scrunches up and yells, “laps Munson.” The guy really treated gym class like an actual practice. It fucking sucked, especially for Eddie’s asthma. Which was already starting to act up due to you know… getting the fucking air knocked out of him.

Groaning loudly, he begins to jog not so smoothly. Hearing the very unoriginal jock cracked by Jason. “I thought you would know how to handle balls better Munson!”

Eddie’s face is bright red, trying not to let the comment phase him. Starting to push his body a bit more, rubbing out of agitation. Through his tunnel vision he thankfully doesn’t miss Steve spiking a basketball at Jason’s head. And boy does he not miss.

The ball nearly knocks Jason’s head clean off his shoulders. Turning to glare at whoever did that. His heated gaze cowering a bit when he realizes the king of Hawkins was targeting him. Which was not a good thing. The girls around Steve were already starting to whisper, Jason doesn’t seem to miss this either. Eyes moving to Chrissy Cunningham, who was giggling with a few of her friends higher up in the bleachers. Waiting for the class to finish so that they could start cheer practice.

“I was curious Carver, how do balls taste?” Steve says louder. The coach doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t even tell him to run laps. Just snorts shaking his head amused as he writes on his clipboard. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking points off from him and giving them to Steve for extra credit.

Jason’s a bit pink in the face, looking away in shame as he starts to talk in a hushed voice with his group of friends. Eddie snorts, amused as he keeps running around. He was fine. For the first two times going around, but now. He was barely able to breath. Slowing down as he has to pull his inhaler out. Taking a few puffs. Gasping for air, while everyone ignores him.

He wishes that he had just skipped this class. But he was on track for ‘85 baby. He moves trying to stand up a bit more as he starts to push forward. Force himself through the burning ache in his lungs. To focused on that that he barely catches the hand that lands on his shoulder.

His body stiffens up a bit as he nearly jumps a couple of feet in the air. Eyes wide as he sees that it’s Steve Harrington touching him. Go figure. He was going to get a elbow in the gut for sure. For “experimental reasons.” To see if the asthmatic could turn into a total weezer.

But that doesn’t seem to be the case as Steve nods his head towards the doors. “Coach wants you to take me to the nurse.” He grumbles a bit. And Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes a bit at that. But if it means getting out of class for a few minutes, then so be it. He grumbles even more, not understanding why Steve couldn’t take himself.

And from the way the other sways on his feet Eddie quickly catches on. But why he was chosen to take him was beyond him. He was barely functioning himself as he starts into a coughing fit the second they step out of the doors. Steve’s hands are already leading him to the water fountain, rubbing his back gently. “Come on dude you need to stand straight.” Steve comments, moving Eddie’s body like he was clay. Eddie listens standing as straight as he can, still coughing for a second. Waiting for breather room before he takes another puff of his inhaler. Hands shaking a bit before he was pulling it back.

And god damn, Steve Harrington was a god send. And angel sent from above. Because Eddie really needed water, and where did the king take him? Straight to the fucking source.

Eddie clambers forward a bit, quickly drinking mouthfuls of water. Coming back up to gasp for air, which might be his default setting. He’s to busy trying to cure his dry throat that he hadn’t notice hands holding his hair back.

After a moment longer Eddie pulls back, his curls strangely fall right in his face at the same time. He glances over at Steve, who was now a couple of feet away from him. Awkwardly smiling and waving at him, like he hadn’t just pulled his hair back like he was some drunk teenage girl. Eddie clears his throat before Steve nods his head a bit. Looking down at the floor a bit as he starts stumbling forward a bit. His balance seems a bit off, probably from getting his skull knocked in by Hargrove.

As they progress down the halls, the more Eddie starts to think Steve Harrington wasn’t like he thought he would be. But Eddie can’t say as much to him before Steve’s walking him into the nurse. Who now stares Eddie like he has five heads.

“What do you want Munson?” She says in a bored tone. Chewing on a mouthful of gum as she does.

Eddie stumbles on his words, moving to point to behind him. To only then realize that Steve Harrington was no longer there. His face goes a bright pink as he realizes what just happened. Secretly cursing the boy out for being so smooth Eddie turns to face the nurse again.

[joespinell]

noticing more and more the bits in dr strangelove where president muffley is sick

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Kinned Jim Kirk a lil too hard and now I have 500 million allergies

[kerryweaverlesbian]

You legit have the best spn takes I love the patheticness of Rowena but never actually thought too much about it but your post makes me appreciate that part of her sm

Thank you! People are so nice to me 🥹 she needs to be a little scheming worm who gets maybe two thirds of what she wants maximum. She needs a project. She would be bored of running Hell with no conflict or further goals within about a week. Rowena has wanted the IDEA of running Hell for a long time but from what we've seen of what being monarch of Hell actually IS with Crowley (or, what he made it into) she's going to be bored out of her skull. She looked bored in the episode. She's a schemer!! Let her scheme! It's like if Chandler from FRIENDS just stopped telling jokes forever as his final position on the show and all his (titular) friends agreed it was good for him. Or if Winston from New Girl put down his racoon costume and said "I'm going to become an ivestment banker" and did it with no issues and no silliness that was his endgame. It doesn't feel right.

Anyway!!!!! Pathetic Rowena is so good. When she was trying to build a coven and all the witches were like. Have you forgotten that you're a complete loser??? Or when she "reconnects" with Crowley as his untrustworthy advisor and gives the most obviously scheming bad advice and the only reason he lets her get away with it is because she's his mother and he pities her a little. Or when she manages to get in good with Amara but Amara's like hm. You kind of suck huh. like that's golden.

I would have had, for her final appearance as "queen of hell", she does her whole big grand entrance being carried around by demons (loved that for her), giving (slightly quicker) lofty advice* about working on relationships (because that IS necessary for the theme of the episode) and getting her demons to look for Michael. And THEN after they get the news that he's not in Hell, have one of her demon aides warn her that the actual queen is coming so she's gotta go and the boys are like. The who. What. Meanwhile Rowena is scrambling to get her things and is like 'aye well maybe introducing myself as queen was a tad preemptive, but I will be. Good luck boys, best get out of here sharpish if you want to keep yer heads ❤️" and a specific goodbye to Sam with a kiss on the cheek since she was. His best friend???? and they don't presently have A Moment in the episode. It wouldn't take much. It would also solve the weird place of them being best friends with the queen of hell where - presumably - eternal torture is still happening. Easier to handwave if the position of power is incredibly tenuous like Crowley's was always depicted as.

To conclude. Kiss kiss kiss 💋

*not to be confused with giving Lofty advice, a character from BBC Casualty who crossed over to BBC Holby City and whom I hate with the fire of a million suns.

[welcome-to-the-indulgence-phase]

You know how shaving ads don't show body hair because we as a society are so weird about body hair on women we don't want to see the products actually doing the job?

Same thing goes with bloom partnerships on TikTok.

[toolazytodecide]

Damn, I forgot what it was like posting in a popular Fandom

[demarogue]

Gettin' Through the Holidays Mental Health Tricks

If y'all are anything like me, this time of year is triggering AF. Here are some small, very easy grounding exercises that I was taught by my therapist, basically in order of how much I like them for this rage-inducing season. You make like them in a different order, depending on your rage-to-despair ratio.

Push a wall: literally go up to a wall and try to push it over. Really try. I promise you won't push it over, but give it your best shot. Try to hold it as long as you can, and then take a breather and assess whether you need to repeat. Why it works: This is a quick, physical expulsion of the fight-or-flight feeling. It's a bit like punching a wall, but without the potential to hurt yourself/look scary/damage things. You can even do it in front of people and say you're stretching, they'll never know (unless the wall actually falls down, but this will not happen, I assure you).

Shake like a dog: Animals shake to release stress, and you are also an animal. Setting aside time to just shake it out, as vigorously as you can, arms and legs, face, stick your tongue out, pretend you're shaking like a wet dog. You can dance instead, if that feels better, and you can do this to music, but basically the more unhinged you can be, the better. If you are in a place you can scream, scream too! Why it works: like the above, this is a release of pent-up stress and anxiety. Especially if your rage-to-woe ratio is high, some kind of physical exertion is often the best way to burn through the cortisol and adrenaline you're building up.

Bilateral Tapping: Cross your arms over your chest so that your fingertips are at your shoulders, and slowly tap, one hand at a time, back and forth, for about a minute. Breathe slowly. Why it works: This is weird as hell, but because this engages both sides of your brain, it helps override the activity of the amygdala, which is the part of your brain that Makes The Fear. If you're being literally triggered in a situation, i.e. you're having a trauma response, or reliving some family trauma, this is a good one.

Box Breathing: From a comfortable position (can really be seated, laying down or standing), inhale slowly for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, exhale for a count of 4, hold for a count of 4, then repeat. You can do it for shorter counts or longer counts, but if you vary the counts make sure the exhale is longer than the inhale. You can close your eyes or leave them open. Why it works: This exercise helps you move from a sympathetic (activated) nervous system response to a parasympathetic (balanced) response. I do this one every day, and it's a good gateway to meditation. Especially helpful in anxious or tense situations, but I find if I'm very triggered I need one of the other ones first, or it can make anxiety worse. Breathwork is amazing but not usually as a first exercise if you're very activated, or have been activated a long time.

Ice: Lots of ways to do this one – hands in cold water for 30 seconds, ice pack on the back of your neck, dip your entire face into a bowl of ice water (this one's the most effective). Why it works: I kinda think this is hilarious, but this activates your mammalian dive reflex. It immediately slows your heart-rate, so if you are feeling your blood pressure and heart rate rising, this one is very good. The only reason this one's at the bottom of my list is because I hate being cold.

I wish you all a very get-through-the-holidays-without-hurting-yourself. Take time alone if you need it.

[leaawrites]

Poetry Confessions

Elijah Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: writing poetry with Eli.

Wordcount: 0.9k

TW: none

A little appreciation post and a (late) happy birthday to one of my favourite irish lads, Elijah Bob Patricius Guggi Q Hewson.

Masterlist

Softly the rain outside played a melody she wanted to capture but just didn’t know how. It was such a sweet, soft sound that couldn’t be described in words. It was a echo but nothing more. Some sensual beating of natures heart. How could you capture a heartbeat?

The door creaked open and was shut close shortly after. Eli carrying in two mugs for the two of them. Both filled with the tea of their preference. The smoke of it was dancing through the air before dissolving into nothing. Cooling off.

He put them on his table before turning around to talk to the girl, who was sitting on his bed, about the song they were just about to write.

He invited her over to his after reading a bit of her poetry by what you could call rather an accident than for the reason of her offering it to him. Rob had given it to him, explaining that it was from a friend and that he should hold the papers for him while he set up his bass. The words memorized him and he could imagine a rhythm behind it. It was as if they were his own, but at the same time they weren’t. They told a story he saw himself in but he wasn’t the main character. They felt like one. Sharing a mind.

After talking to Rob about it and inviting her to a band practice before going to his home, she agreed to work with them. At first, she was mad at Rob for just handing the papers out like they were free advertisement and embarrassed that someone else besides her closest friends read her most conscious thoughts, but the lads were nice and she quickly bonded with them, which made her appreciate it a little more. Plus, she was now actively working together with people that she was convinced had a great future in front of them. For most people, you could tell if they were gonna be stars in their future at the mere age of 17, but with them, you just knew.

“What are you thinking about?” Eli asked, sitting down next to her. His eyes switched between her profile and the world outside his window. He watched the rain but to him it was a rather ordinary thing to admire.

“It’s beautiful. The rain, I mean. It’s so loud but so gentle,” she explained, turning her head to look at him. “I’ve tried writing about it, but I never really got to capture it’s beauty quite like I hoped to. It always seemed off.”

He had never heard anyone talk about nature like that - besides Bobby’s endless speeches about birds. But that - the rain and it’s magic - he understood it - not like the birds. He just sat there and watched her like he couldn’t comprehend she was real. What a mind, he thought.

“I think you can’t capture the most beautiful things in something like words or pictures. Reality is always more fascinating,” he answered, watching her to make her understand what he was referring to. Her.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she argued, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged opposite him.

Eli did the same, turning so he could look at her fully. “Then how do you explain your struggle with writing about rain?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just bad.”

“When you’re bad then I’m horrible. No, even worse than horrible. A total disaster,” he joked, making her laugh. “You wanna test it?”

“How?” She asked, intrigued by his offer.

“We each write one poem about something that we find semi beautiful and one thing that we are fascinated by. Then we see which one is better,” he explained his idea.

“That’s not gonna work,” she said.

“You don’t even wanna try? Party popper,” he said, looking bored at her.

She laughed at his behavior before finally agreeing to his offer. “Which one do we write first?”

“The semi beautiful,” he decided.

Getting paper and two pens, he hands her what she needs before they both think and create.

“I say, we write the other one now and then we compare them together,” she said after they both finished writing their first poem.

They kept on writing, letting their creative stream lead them where they went with their poem. Y/n noticed, how every 2 seconds, Eli would look up at her and watch her for a moment before continuing writing.

“Can you please stop looking at me?” She asked, feeling small under his gaze.

He was still writing, so when he heard her talk he quickly looked up. “Sorry, what?” He asked, still half immersed in his lines and verses. Not expecting her to voice anything while concentrating.

“I don’t like when people look at me when I write, so could you please stop that?” She asked him.

She didn’t want to be rude, but she felt uncomfortable when she knew someone was watching her while she was willing to write about something personal. It was a nagging feeling she couldn’t shake off. Some distaste she imagined reflecting in their eyes, disgust of her mind. Some sort of making fun of her while writing. She felt insecure with the knowing of eyes watching her, afraid she might fail in front of them.

“Can’t do,” he said, deciding to just shoot his shot. Now or never, right?

“Why not?” She asked, putting her pen down on her paper and looking at him.

“I have to focus on my subject while writing.”

[links-studies]

completely bombed the first part of my qual today. objectively, it wasn't that hard but I had a migraine descend on me like a semitruck this week and I couldn't remember how to do basic math, so I got through none of it. sighs.

[storiesabouteli]

Hi! Loved your most recent story! I was thinking maybe you could write one where the reader struggles with acne and Eli makes her feel not insecure? 💕

Hope you are well!

Heey, thank you for requesting! I hope you like that one too!!

Words: 1,6K

You followed a certain logic in your mind, choosing comfortable clothes. You'd wrapped socks around your hair to make sure it looked nice, hoping it would draw attention away from your face—or maybe even from your own reflection in the bathroom mirror. Everything felt exhausting, almost pointless. Your face was freshly washed, the marks and small stinging spots seemed more noticeable. You spent a long time staring at yourself, wondering what to do—they were worse than the day before. You took care of your skin, wanting the blemishes to disappear, not to worsen suddenly, leaving scars behind.

You covered them with foundation and concealer, did your eyeliner to make your eyes more noticeable, but then leaned against the wall, disliking the texture of your skin, wanting to just stay there. You and Eli were supposed to meet Ryan and his girlfriend, trying out a new restaurant, something casual and fun, but you knew your mind wouldn’t let you feel at ease.

“You okay? Something happened?” Eli's voice was sweet, as if he hadn’t been waiting for you to get ready for almost an hour.

“I’ll be out soon, sorry.” You could hear him breathing behind the closed door, his feet shuffling against the floor.

“Need anything? I can run to the pharmacy for you, just tell me what you need.” His thick accent, full of concern, made you smile, an honest contrast to how you felt. You held the doorknob, hesitating for a few seconds, and then remembered Eli was your boyfriend—he would understand.

“No, I’m okay, El.” You whispered, opening the door to face him. He was wearing a tight band tee, showing off his arms, jeans with a belt, and his hair slicked back. He looked adorable, which made you feel even worse about the fact that he'd dressed up, only for you to now not want to go. It also seemed unfair that he'd be going out with you. You closed your eyes quickly, pushing those thoughts down as hard as you could. You hated being like this.

“You look beautiful, pumpkin. I can get dressed up more if you give me a few seconds.” That was the thing—Eli was just being himself, effortless, while you had tried so hard. He didn’t move, and the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, though you felt uneasy in your own skin. Tears welled up in your eyes, and he stepped into the bathroom with you. He looked around before his gaze settled on you. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, then he smiled softly, trying to show he was there for you.

“I can tell something’s bothering you, but I’m not sure what.”

All the beauty products—makeup, skincare solutions—were scattered across the sink. You often wondered how Eli saw this side of you. Some people could be insensitive about it, and although Eli wasn’t like that, you couldn’t help but think about it. You looked down at your feet, swallowing your words, not liking the idea of verbalizing this to him.

“Can I stay? I thought maybe you could go without me. I’m just not feeling up for it.” He frowned, thinking, still looking cute. It felt like you were a kid asking to skip school without a good reason.

“We don’t have to go.” He stepped closer, gently holding your face, trying to read you. His concern and calmness were so kind.

“But you should go—you look so handsome.” He chuckled softly.

“So do you, but what’s the point of going without my girl?” You crinkled your nose, embarrassed at how goofy he could be. He hesitated, about to brush his fingers across your cheek, but you flinched. Instead, he placed his hands on your shoulders, still wanting to keep you close, like that might ease your feelings. Your eyes drifted away from his, and that’s when he realized you weren’t avoiding him—you were hiding your face. He pulled you into a hug, and you pressed your face against his chest as he held you tight.

“I’ll let them know, it’s okay.” His lips brushed the top of your head as a wave of relief washed over you.

Eli held your waist as you sat on the counter in front of him. Your mind was somewhat blank, relieved to be staying in, but it still felt wrong. You were distant while Eli's voice echoed in the bathroom, talking to Ryan on the phone. He said he wasn’t feeling well, throwing in a sarcastic remark about you being his caregiver, which made you chuckle despite your sour mood.

“We could cook something nice, watch a movie, or just do nothing for the rest of the night. What do you think, huh?” You nodded, your eyes lifting to meet his, only to quickly look away. He kept his gaze on you.

"Sounds good, El."

Your shoulders were slumped, and Eli felt uneasy, unsure how to help. "I need to take off my makeup. You can get changed; I’ll do the same, and then we can cook something." You said this, imagining how you'd end up with your face pressed to his chest, transferring all the makeup onto his shirt. Either that, or you'd insist on hiding yourself with concealer the whole time.

"Can I?" Eli asked, his waist brushing against your knees as he reached for the makeup wipes you had grabbed earlier. You let out a long sigh and nodded. "My skin's irritated. It’s really flared up."

Your voice was barely audible, as if preparing him for the reality. “You know, I’ve seen your face plenty of times before,” he said softly, his warm, caramel eyes as tender as always as he carefully wiped your makeup away. “What do you think about them?” you asked quietly, handing him a small amber bottle. Speaking about it in code, adding a certain distance, helped make it easier to handle.

He paused, his shoulders heavy as if unsure how to put his thoughts into words. “I don’t really think about them like that,” he said thoughtfully, “They’re a part of you, so I like them.”

He applied the product to your cheeks with his fingers, lightly squeezing them, making you close your eyes and giggle at the way his thick fingers and rings felt against your skin. “How do you see yourself?” he asked hesitantly, not wanting you to speak poorly about yourself.

“I don’t know,” you swallowed, swinging your legs around him. “Now that they’re worse, I feel…”

He noticed your eyes divert once again, a sadness creeping into them. “It’s okay,” he gently lifted your chin, making you look at him. He kissed each cheek, the bridge of your nose, and then your forehead, lingering for a moment as his kisses echoed with soft pops.

You often feared Eli might find you unattractive at times, but his tenderness shattered that doubt. “I met you like this, remember? I thought you were beautiful then, and nothing’s changed. I won’t let you believe otherwise.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. You didn’t know what to say, but Eli had already brightened your day. You wanted to be enveloped by him, as if he were a cocoon.

You nodded silently, letting him apply a few more drops of product to your face. He massaged it in the way he had seen you do many times before, and it was endearing how he had memorized your routine just from watching. “What’s this for?”

“It’s an aloe vera gel; it helps calm my skin.”

His brow arched as he read the label. “Okay. And those stickers? What are they for? And the other tubes?”

You laughed, feeling a bit lighter now. Eli’s muscles relaxed, pleased to see you holding eye contact with him again. Things were looking up; everything would be fine. “I use vitamin C sometimes to fade spots,” you explained. The wrinkle in his forehead smoothed out as if it all made sense now. “And I just try to keep my skin hydrated.”

You handed him a pack of star-shaped pimple patches, and he glanced at the pile, you got slightly embarrassed by how many you had. “These dry out pimples—like the pus and stuff. But mostly, they stop me from picking at them.”

He seemed satisfied with the explanation. The patch you handed him was shaped like golden stars. “Do you still have the pink heart ones? I think you look adorable when you wear those.”

Your cheeks warmed. It was a bit jarring to realize that Eli was fully aware of your blemishes, yet he viewed them as just another part of you, while you treated them like monsters. "You like them?" You gave him the chosen patches, though the question was more a confirmation for yourself than for him.

“I do have a favorite, but yeah, I like the others too. It’s cute when you walk around the house with them on your face.” You laughed, guiding his hand as he placed the patches in random spots rather than directly on the pimples.

You peeled one off and stuck it on his cheek. He smiled, leaning in to kiss you on your lips, lingering a little longer. The tip of his nose gently brushes against yours into softness.“I’ll go change into something more comfortable and head downstairs.” You tied your hair up, abandoning any formality that might’ve lingered.

Eli nodded, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt. You glanced over, eyes lingering on his shoulders and tattoo. He chuckled through his nose, “Okay, go get changed, little one. I’m starving.”

[kurooh]

DOUBLE FANTASY ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring threesomes with gojo satoru + geto suguru, nanami kento + higuruma hiromi, shiu kong + fushiguro toji, tsukumo yuki + kamo choso.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, threesomes, oral [m&f rec], spit roasting, double penetration, some degradation, choking, rough sex, squirting, sharing a cigarette, spit, clit slaps. | 4.5K words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. comment & rb if you enjoyed <3 !

GOJO & GETO.

perhaps letting your two roommates take care of you after a messy breakup wasn’t a good idea—or is it? less than an hour ago, you’d come home sobbing, cheeks wet with tears and eyes puffy.

satoru and suguru had pulled you into a tight hug, internally thankful you’d broken things off with that asshole (they’d hated when he would come around) but also sympathetic towards you. it was a tough choice, which was then promptly celebrated over margaritas and shots on the couch. one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were pressed flush against suguru’s strong chest, body sweltering with need hotter than a fire.

“s-sugu, i don’t think you can both fit inside.”

“not with that attitude, sweetheart,” suguru murmurs, hands settling on your hips as he places a small kiss to your cheek. “come now, anything’s possible if you believe in it.”

“bleh, you sound like confucius,” satoru fake gags dramatically, lining his cock up with his best friend’s. their sticky tips prod at your folds, and your heart races faster, rattling around in your ribcage so loudly you can hear it in your ears. although you’re a little nervous, the alcohol you’ve had helps to take the edge away; you impatiently wiggle your hips forward.

“i’m sorry . . ? do you even know who confucius is?” suguru asks incredulously, flicking his bangs to the side with a jerk of his head.

“i’ve seen you read enough of—”

“don’t do this right now,” you plead, voice whiny. “just fuck me already.”

“now, honey. you’ll have plenty of time to slut yourself out for us, don’t you worry.”

“nah, she’s right,” satoru quips, wrapping his hand around their cocks. suguru inhales sharply, unintentionally jerking his hips forward for more. “you ready for us, babe?”

you nod weakly, and the three of you moan in unison as satoru pushes their cocks inside you. it’s slow at first, but the stretch is one that you’ll remember for a lifetime—the burn of being split open on two cocks melts into something euphoric as each inch passes your entrance. satoru groans hungrily, his head falling back. snowy tufts of hair obscure his diamond blue eyes that he tightly squeezes shut, and a huff of breath leaves his lips.

suguru kisses your jaw, fingers trailing along the slopes of your body before finally sweeping over the delicate skin of your throat. you breath hitches when he whispers into your ear: “we’d always hear you begging to be choked harder. don’t you remember that, satoru?”

“hngh, yeah,” he swallows hard at the memory—he and his best friend always heard everything through those paper thin walls. they’d heard your dissatisfaction and vowed to satiate you someday. “and you’d always be going deeper, deeper!”

your cheeks burn with embarrassment. had your roommates really heard everything? how did they face you so easily in the morning after being kept awake each night?

“we’ll give you everything, sweetheart.”

suguru squeezes your throat experimentally, and the corners of his lips lift when you release a moan you’d been holding back for far too long. he and his best friend slowly start to move, rocking their hips into you and developing a smooth tempo.

“both of you are so fucking big,” you mewl, back bowing off of suguru’s chest. they’re filling you up and stretching you out and just as you think it can’t get any better, satoru’s nimble fingers wander to your clit. he curiously toys with it, eyes darkening lustfully once you react how he’d been hoping you would.

“perfect size just for you,” suguru coos, yanking you down by the throat. “satoru, spank her a little.”

he obliges, reading his best friend’s mind easily—a stinging slap lands on your clit, sending prickling shocks of pleasure through your body. the tips of their cocks kiss your cervix, pushing so deep you can’t seem to breathe. satoru gifts your swollen, sensitive clit with slap after slap; the force behind each one only increases until you’re crying freely.

but you’re not begging him to stop, you’re begging him for more.

“god, i always knew you were a fucking slut,” satoru chokes out, pausing to lick some of your slick off his palm. your stomach flips around at the simple action, something hot flashing through you when he closes his eyes momentarily and savors the taste. “finally . . got you to myself.”

then he looks at suguru, who rolls his eyes. “well, for the most part.”

“no need to sound so excited,” he deadpans, huffing beneath you. “as if you’d fuck any better than that damn ex boyfriend.”

satoru scoffs in disbelief, slapping your clit with renewed strength. his hips are still moving, still burying his cock and suguru’s inside you deeper. they’ve got you entirely stuffed—maybe this would be better than some turkey on thanksgiving. your clit throbs with each punishing slap, but your eyes still roll back each time. while they bicker, your oxygen deprived brain spins with arousal and tipsiness. you shudder, going still and barely even managing to warn them of what’s about to happen.

“fuck, i’m gonna—‘m cumming,” you sob, sounding fragile just before you’re about to break. flashes of heat chase their way through you, until they finally explode out of you, in the form of a soaking orgasm. out of patterned habit, satoru’s palm smacks your puffy clit, which only prolongs your intoxicating high further. the intense contractions inadvertently push their cocks a few inches out of you, and your cum splashes on their skin, eliciting pleased groans from them both.

“baby, did you just—”

“she did, satoru,” suguru confirms, biting back a moan.

“i don’t even—i don’t know what happened,” you pant, hissing when someone’s tip bumps against your twitching clit.

“‘s called squirting,” satoru supplies, entranced as he stares at your messy cunt. a mixture of slick and cum coats your inner thighs, and he can’t help but swipe a finger across your skin and then stick it into his mouth. he releases it with a pop, and eyes suguru knowingly.

his voice is now raspy, thick with desire. “let’s make it happen again, sweetheart. we can take turns, of course. but my face comes before satoru’s.”

NANAMI & HIGURUMA.

the smooth oak wood surface of higuruma’s desk is littered with papers hastily swept to the side, and the fabric of your skirt fans out over a few of them. pens and other stationary supplies are forgotten on the floor, along with your now wrinkled blouse.

“h-holy shit—‘romi, right there! just like that.”

“one can only hope that this’ll be enough luck to carry us through the trial,” higuruma grunts, nails digging crescent shaped indents into the fat of your ass. he’s gripping you tightly, chest heaving rapidly as he vigorously fucks his cock deeper.

“ah, hiromi,” nanami huffs, pushing a few stray hairs away from his forehead. they’d escaped their neatly gelled place on his head when the three of you had rushed into higuruma’s office to discuss the final procedures before your trial. “don’t be a downer . . . this is more than lucky. we’ll win, of course.”

you sob, clawing at higuruma’s shoulders. he’d discarded his suit jacket long ago, carefully folded it on one of his bookshelves so as not to ruin the cuffs and smoothness of the fabric. now, he’s rolled the sleeves of his white shirt all the way up to his elbows, and his loosened black tie swings in your face with each of his thrusts.

“wait, hiromi,” your clammy hand pushes against his stomach insistently, “s-slow down, it’s too much, i—”

higuruma looks toward nanami for instruction, and the latter simply pauses stroking his cock. he stands, pushing back the spinning chair he’d been sitting on, and steps toward the edge of the desk. a sheen of sweat covers your forehead and disrupts the smoothness of your makeup, but nanami doesn’t take much pity on you—instead, he lightly slaps your cheek.

“need me to show you too much, angel?” his voice is low and dark, words laced with a throaty rasp that has your pussy squeezing higuruma’s cock. nanami’s eyebrow raises as he pushes your thighs apart to take a look at the mess between them.

“seems to me like she wants you to,” higuruma nods toward your pussy, then loosens his tie and collar further. “after my turn, of course.”

nanami grunts in agreement, settling on the edge of the desk beside your head instead of the chair. the desk creaks weakly from the newly added weight, and for a moment the idea of it collapsing beneath the three of you crosses your mind. higuruma snaps his hips forward, unconsciously licking the sweat away from his upper lip when he starts up.

your hand lamely pushes against his stomach again, but he shakes his head and nanami reacts immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and slamming your hand down on the wood. whimpers leave your lips and the air is punched out of your lungs with each of higuruma’s strong thrusts; he’s so deep you can practically feel him in your chest.

“ken, i need—my clit,” you gasp, back bowing off the desk fruitlessly. your hips twist and jerk away from higuruma’s cock, for fear of being split open. “touch my clit, i need to cum—”

nanami slaps your cheek again, and your eyes roll back at the penalizing sting. “hiromi, you hear that? she wants to cum.” he mocks your words, then turns back to you, hazel eyes burning holes into your own. “and how do good girls ask to cum, baby? certainly not the way you just did.”

“‘m sorry,” you mewl, and higuruma slaps your clit and makes you shudder. “p-please, i wanna cum for you—i’ve been a good girl!”

“hm, hiromi? you think she’s been a good girl?”

you look up at higuruma pleadingly, tears gathered in your lashes and sparkling in the light. you’ve got that blissed out and dumb look on your face, completely at peace with being thrown around and shared between them.

“sluts take it,” he groans, teeth sinking into his lower lip hard. he yanks your body closer, further bullying his cock inside you. “‘nd you’ve been running from me—isn’t that right, babygirl?”

nanami clicks his tongue, and pinches one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he looks down at you nicely, cheeks pink and hair mussed.

“maybe i’ll let you cum when it’s my turn,” he huffs, a small smile playing on his lips when you weakly moan his name as if he’ll give you permission. “for now, you’ll have to beg. now, go on and open wide, baby.”

the moment your lips part, nanami spits onto your tongue; he watches you expectantly and nodding in acceptance when you swallow, drunk on the taste of his peppermint gum.

“that’s right,” higuruma backs him up, looking down his nose at you expectantly. “speak now or forever hold your orgasm, sweetheart.”

TOJI & SHIU.

“so, princess, still up for lunch later?” shiu grunts around a chuckle, passing the lit cigarette to toji. the latter accepts it with a scoff, rolling his jade green eyes as he sticks it between his lips.

“yes,” you and toji answer at the same time, but your voice is muffled on shiu’s cock.

toji gifts your ass with a slap and exhales the smoke, handing the cigarette back to shiu with a glare. his once stagnant hips begin to move again, almost as if he’s rejuvenated from his little smoke break. shiu only laughs, cupping the crown of your head in order to ease his cock further down your throat.

“i’m surprised you’ve got the money for that, toji,” shiu teases, exhaling sharply when the tip of his cock bumps into your uvula and makes you gag. your throat constricts around his length and you let out a muffled whine in reaction to the stretch.

“you crazy or sum’n?” toji snaps, choosing to argue with his best friend while he’s balls deep inside you. his harsh thrusts make your pussy squelch, and shiu’s cum from earlier spills out onto the bedsheets below. “of course i’ve got the fuckin’ money for lunch, but you’re gonna be the one paying, dumbass.”

his fingers find your swollen clit and he pinches it, making you gasp around shiu’s cock. you choke, gagging so hard tears pool in your eyes—shiu strokes your head comfortingly as you pull off his cock, coughing hard.

“you okay, babygirl?” and he looks at toji disapprovingly, but he only continues to fuck you. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix lightly with each thrust, and when he feels like he’s not going deep enough, he lifts your hips to pull you back. “toji, that was mean.”

“mean . . ? shiu, my girl can fuckin’ handle it. ain’t that right, baby?” he looks to you for confirmation, quirking a brow while the scarred corner of his lip curves into a smirk.

this whole mess had started when you’d spent a night in with toji, watching movies and taking shots every now and then. you’d gotten drunk, swaying on your feet and giggling as you’d pointed to the tv screen dazedly.

“oh, toji, look! that guy looks like shiu!”

he could see the resemblance, and grunted, “damn, he does. ugly just like him too.”

“shiu isn’t ugly!” you jumped up drunkenly to defend his best friend’s appearance, waving your arms around dramatically. “he’s very good looking, actually.”

“oh, really? he doesn’t have any muscle, though.”

“toji, don’t be silly,” you laughed at your boyfriend, “‘course he does, it’s just under all those clothes of his. if he took ‘em off, you’d know what i mean!”

“so you got a crush on shiu?” toji asked in disbelief, his cheeks flaring a deeper pink as he took another vodka shot. “aw, i should let him know.”

one thing led to another, and shiu had come over for breakfast. then your little crush had gotten out, and a bet was placed—who could fuck you better? the condition for the loser was then set in place: whoever lost would buy lunch for the three of you without question.

“y-yeah, toji,” you mumble, forehead pressing into shiu’s pelvis weakly. he’d been the first to fuck you, and now it’s toji’s turn with your pussy—you’re sure you won’t walk smoothly ever again.

“can’t hear you,” toji taunts, lifting your hips and yanking you back onto his cock. the new angle forces him deeper, stretching your cunt out even further. “wanna repeat that for me, doll?”

“ngh, f-fuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back. his cock slams into that sweet, sensitive spot that’s deep inside you, and the tears that had been building in your eyes finally pour down your cheeks. the mascara and eye makeup you’d worn for the breakfast smears against shiu’s skin and makes messy tracks down your face. he curiously slips a finger beneath your chin to make you look up at him.

“aw, baby. i really can’t wait to hear who fucked you better . . . my back certainly wasn’t cracking as much as his is.”

“shut it, shiu,” toji groans, savoring the broken moans that freely leave your lips—gasping ah’s and whines that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “hand me the fuckin’ cig.”

shiu obliges, chuckling softly when he notices you pawing around his thighs in search of his cock. you whimper when you finally get his tip back in your mouth (with his guidance), slowly taking him in inch by inch. he groans, tossing his head back when he finally bumps into the back of your throat.

“m-mind if i fuck your mouth, doll face?” he asks, thighs twitching expectantly. a vein in toji’s forehead bulges at the way he steals his pet name for you.

you shake your head shyly, blinking slowly while toji fucks every single thought out of your head. he’s deliberately holding himself back so you’ll go dumb on his cock, unable to scream anything but his name. yes, this is how he’ll show shiu who can fuck—show him that you’re his girl, his doll face.

tendrils of smoke waft over your break before dissipating in the air as if they were never there. you shudder as toji’s fingers reach your clit, rubbing sloppy circles on the sensitive nub even though your hips rear away. you still haven’t recovered from the overstimulation shiu caused with both his tongue and fingers, but that’s okay. he’ll have you cumming on his cock regardless.

with a deep groan, shiu cups the back of your head to keep you steady, and he shoves his hips forward, his cock slamming far down your throat. you gag, but he’s merciless—doesn’t give you more than a second to breathe before he’s at it again, setting a brutal pace that matches toji’s.

“ugh, fuck—want ya to cum on this cock for me, doll,” he groans, starting to slap his fingers against your clit. your legs kick out in reaction, and you hump your hips back against his hand. toji’s fucked you so hard you can’t even feel shiu’s cum dripping out of you anymore; he’s seconds away from replacing it with his own thick load and having you hold it inside you during lunch.

you nod dumbly on shiu’s cock, starting to sob louder as your own orgasm hurtles toward you. the high is absolutely inescapable, and your watery eyes meet shiu’s when you tip your head up. to the best of his abilities, he’s sweetly talking you through it, his words jumbled although you manage to hear a few clearly.

“how ‘bout we all cum together?” he suggests, wiping a stray tear from your face with the pad of his thumb as if he wasn’t the one that caused it.

“whatever, just as long she does first,” toji warns, his husky voice carrying a tenderness that only you can hear. “got that, shiu?”

like a cheshire cat, he smiles in response, sticking the worn down cigarette between his lips. he takes a drag and thrusts as deeply as he can go before holding your head down at his pelvis. you can hear his quiet moan beneath the clapping of skin against skin and all the other noise; his cock shoots ribbons of white down your throat and he shudders when you swallow it all eagerly, looking up at him for more.

toji throbs against your cervix, and he grabs your asscheek in one of his hands to tug and slap at. “‘m gonna cum, shit . . . wouldn’t ever wanna cum outside of this pretty pussy.”

his fingers work your clit until you’re arching your back and crying out, gushing on toji’s cock with no end in sight. wetness sprays against his pelvis and abs, and he groans, fucking you through it.

“such a mess, doll,” he groans, slipping a hand around your throat and pulling you off shiu’s cock. he instead pins you against his muscular chest, looking over your shoulder through hooded eyes at shiu, who hasn’t gone soft yet. “fuckin’ love it, though.”

toji places a few wet kisses to your neck, moving close to your ear. “so, doll face? where’s lunch gonna be? shiu’s treat, of course.”

YUKI & CHOSO.

“c’mon, you don’t really plan to just sit and watch us, do you?” yuki pushes her blonde bangs away from her forehead with an enchanting smile playing on her lips. she playfully tilts her head to the side, eyeing choso and his seated form.

“well, i . . . you said you’d teach me,” he offers lamely, his reddened cheeks only darkening. he catches your eyes on him too and awkwardly crosses his legs, trying to hide the tent in his pants.

when you’d finally had enough of your boyfriend’s ineducable inexperience, you’d decided to bite the bullet and ask your best friend. yuki had been receptive from the start, her eyes gleaming while you’d explained the situation to a willing choso.

“oh, you won’t learn anything from over there,” she laughs, waving him over to the empty space beside her on the bed. “y’know, sex is pretty hands on.”

choso settles beside her, and the bedframe creaks as it accommodates the new weight. his fingers are trembling as they brush over the tender skin of your inner thighs, and his eyes widen when they come close to your dripping pussy. slick is smeared all over your skin and shining in the low light, utterly enticing to the both of them.

yuki spreads your legs further, and you draw in a sharp breath, lower lip slipping between your teeth.

“come closer,” she coos, pointing at your clit with a smirk. “that’s her clit . . . ‘s the secret to the female orgasm, choso. go on, give her a lick.”

without question, choso adjusts himself so he’s on his stomach, and he experimentally licks your clit. his silky tongue is flexed and nervous, dipping down further to taste the wetness trickling from your slit.

“f-fuck, choso,” you cry, insides lurching deliciously at the feeling. one look at yuki—her cheeks are colored pink, tongue unconsciously darting out occasionally to sweep over her lower lip—and another at choso, whose movements are gradually becoming more insistent, has a sweltering heat coiling deep in your stomach.

your hips jerk forward, pelvic bone nearly nailing him in the bridge of his nose, and choso’s head rears back in concern. “‘m sorry, are you—”

“our girl’s loving it,” yuki hisses, not even missing a beat as she cups the crown of his head, manicured nails digging into your boyfriend’s scalp as she forces his head back down. he doesn’t resist, letting out a muffled moan when his face lands directly in your pussy. slick smears across the lower half of his face and he feels the saliva pool on his tongue from how hungry he is.

choso’s nose bumps into your swollen clit, and a pitched whine tears from your throat. “need—i need more, please,” yuki settles onto her stomach beside choso, palm leaving his head. her fingers impatiently push past his chin, stroking lightly against your dripping pussy, and she quietly moans in delight.

you watch slack jawed as yuki pushes her fingers into her mouth, and her eyes squeeze shut. her hips grind against the bed, sheets rustling softly beneath her body. choso’s too caught up to notice, dark strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“cho—ah, shit—use your fingers, baby.”

your boyfriend obliges obediently, carefully pushing his fingers inside you and tugging back to let yuki take over with her mouth.

that heat inside you ignites into an inferno the second her mouth finds your clit. her lips lightly wrap around it and her tongue sweeps over the swollen bud; to tease you a little further, she lets her teeth occasionally nibble at it.

“this what you wanted?” choso pants, voice lilting curiously as his eyes rake over your body. he’s always been rather shameless when it comes to looking you over, but after this, he’ll finally be able to back it up with a hundred percent. the heave of your chest and parting of your bitten lips is enough of an answer, but he wants to hear it from you. his fingers curl inside you, pressing into a spot that scratches the unbearable itch in your brain perfectly.

“y-yes, cho!” and you’ve got stars in your eyes, feeling an unfamiliar pressure straining in your lower abdomen. “wanna—wanna cum on your face, please.”

“you heard her,” yuki quirks a brow, thumb working your clit in place of her tongue. she’s got a wildness in her eyes, with the lower half of her face sticky like choso’s. “let’s make our pretty girl cum together, hm?”

choso flushes all the way to his neck but nods, his two fingers pushing deeply over and over. a small sting accommodates the stretch, but is quickly forgotten when their faces push against one another’s in their rush for a taste. your slick is sweet like ambrosia, and they’re far too greedy to take turns with your cunt.

your clammy fingers push into yuki’s flowing tresses, while your other hand cups the crown of choso’s head and pushes him impossibly closer. her moans are softer than his as she finds your clit again, licking desperately, almost as if she’s begging you to cum.

meanwhile, choso places a hand above your pelvic bone, palm pressing into the soft skin—you’d mentioned that fingering wasn’t fingering without that small detail and he hasn’t forgotten it since—and it’s becoming difficult to breathe without panting. whiny moans fill the spaces in between your babbled words of bliss, and yuki knows that she won’t be able to get enough of you once this is over.

“ooh, fuck,” you sob, nearly choking on your words when your back uncontrollably arches off the bed. your fingers tighten in her hair and your nails scratch against choso’s scalp, making a mess of his once neatly tied buns. “yuki, ‘m so close, can’t hold it—”

she’d known what had been coming the moment you’d asked for choso’s fingers. she’s unable to stop herself from smiling against your clit, and choso’s tongue bumps into her own as he fights for a piece of you too. he’d initially been all for this so he could learn how to make you tick, what you really meant when you’d beg for his mouth.

his skin is hot as it pushes against hers, their cheeks puffing up a little as they fight for dominance over your clit. they’re shaking their heads all too much, and choso’s grunting while yuki does too, sending vibrations through your already sensitive clit. that pressure burns through your body, and your legs begin to tremble on either side of them as it grows more intense.

“hmph—cum for us, pretty girl.”

similarly, choso tugs away for a moment and lets out a huff, pressing down hard while his fingertips push into your sweet spot, “let us taste it, baby.”

their simple words do the trick, and with a gasp, your pussy begins to gush waterfalls right onto their faces. yuki eagerly slurps up the slick and cum from your cunt, with no regard for the way it’s still fluttering sensitively. choso barely gets a taste, only getting the tip of his tongue wet, and he pulls back with an annoyed scoff.

“yuki, that’s—”

“y-yuki!” you interrupt, voice breaking as you pathetically try to writhe away from her. with choso sitting back, she’s able to grab you by the hips and drag you close, insistently licking you through the dizzying high. “‘s too much, wait—choso!”

“yuki,” he scolds with a shake of his head, but makes no move to pull her away. honestly, if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to. “that’s no fair, i didn’t even get a taste. and she’s my girl.” choso’s words are pointed and a little whiny, and yuki just rolls her eyes.

“then come here ‘n try again. just look at her, she’s dying for more . . aren’t ya, pretty?”

[screampied]

gojo had a dream you died.

it was partially the reason why he woke up in a cold sweat… it was horrid.

he could still hear your screams, the life leaving your eyes, but more importantly, he remembered your final words that were murmured to him. “satoru, don’t… cry, i’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.” and he believed you, that everything would be okay. despite tears filling his eyes, labeled the strongest at that moment, he couldn’t have ever felt so weak.

the dream felt so real, that was the scary part. he remembered each and every detail. from the feeling of you giving his wrist a light squeeze, the sweet smell of your natural scent.. the eerie sounds of your irregular wheezes as you were clinging on your final moments.

“don’t leave me,” he mutters, he remembers saying that. three simple words, yet his dilated pupils spoke a thousand. he started to repeat it. again and again as if it was a mantra. his words, his tone broke the more he spoke to you. that cute smile of yours never left your lips, it remained there. regardless of your inevitable incoming fate, he sobs, “you’re…you’re all i have left. i don’t wanna be left alone again, just stay. please, baby.”

“i’m not going anywhere, ‘toru,” you’d reassure him, a single tear drop of his falls onto your cheek.

after that moment, gojo wakes up. trembling, yet the dream wasn’t that feared him the most. it was him waking up with you not next to him..

cold, everything felt cold.

he shot up immediately from his dream. the cold sweat that forever continued to race down his back as he panted.

he was so used to your warmth taking up part of the bed. albeit, in this case though. it felt empty,

isolated.

it was near the middle of the night, gojo was drowsy, rubbing his eyes to blind his vision with imaginary stars. feeling for the bed, it was frigid.

“baby?” he’d grumble, white lashes partially open. silence called back to him, if it was anything about gojo, he hated being alone.

oh, he loathed it,

yet whenever you came into his life—he didn’t have to worry about that. you were always besides him, no matter what.

until now.

it takes him a split second before it dawns on him. your fatal death, it wasn’t another one of his silly surreal dreams. it was nothing but mere reality.

a breath gets caught in his throat once he realizes, being brought back into harsh realness. you were gone.

it’s been years, speaking of which…

it was your anniversary with him. the same exact day he proposed to you. he remembers it vividly, getting down on one knee with the goofiest grin. he didn’t even say, “will you marry me..?” instead, he snorts a sheepish, “let’s get married, heh.”

“i always forget around this time,” gojo sighs to himself with a soft tone, his voice was a bit raspy from abruptly waking up. intaking a sharp inhale, he goes towards your side of the bed and he reaches into his pocket.

“it should have been me,” and he doesn’t even care he’s talking to himself, it’s like for whatever reason, your presence was near him. “our marriage,” and then with a brief sniffle, he glances down at the ring you once wore proudly. he strokes it with a thumb before huffing out a shaky, “our marriage, it was supposed to last us for infinity…”

but it didn’t.

with hot tears streaming down his face and stuck a power he wished he’d never have, in the end, it couldn’t save you.

he couldn’t save you.

and now…

the strongest, the most brave to ever live and walk could easily be mistaken as the weakest.

[ddejavvu]

Cant stop thinking about Logan bending Wades darling little sister (in her 20s) over the kitchen table while Waded out on a mission. That is all I can think about right now

Insatiable - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. age gap (legal; reader is in her 20's, logan is like... 200 years old.), wilson!reader, dirty talk, slight breeding mentioned

The only reason you're able to do it in the kitchen is because Wade isn't home, and you'd managed to shut the door on his pathetically endearing little dog. Mary Puppins is probably tearing up Wade's poor excuse for a comforter right now, and Logan is tearing up- well.

You.

Your pussy.

You're bent so far over the counter that your tits are cold, your nipples stiff and sensitive against the countertop. The pressure against them hurts, or maybe it's a lack of other stimulation against them- either way, they're stinging and you wish to right yourself and tug mercilessly at them.

But Logan's weight- not the full load, or you'd be crushed - is holding you down, your hands scrabbling uselessly at the smooth counter for purchase that you'll never find as you're rocked steadily into the cabinets below.

Logan's cock is buried so deep inside of you that you're not sure he'll ever get it out again, but then he does, and then he thrusts back in and you're hit all over again with a sense of shit, I didn't know I went that deep. He's found your limit, stretched your cunt to the breaking point with his impressive length, and his facial hair tickles the side of your face as he takes your cunt from behind.

Your face smacks painfully against the cabinets over the counter and Logan reaches a hand up to cover your forehead, "Shit, be careful. Head down, honey, there you go. Wouldn't want Big Brother finding an imprint of your face in the wood."

"Whaddya think he'd say?" Logan's suddenly snickering, a gruff delight to his voice as he rams his cock inside you once more, thrusting at a steady, merciless pace, "Shit, if he knew my old ass had his sweet little sister pinned up against the counter..."

Wade would kill him. Or try valiantly to, as it's been established before by Wade's best efforts that Logan is one difficult motherfucker to kill. But you don't fancy a bloodbath even if the vessel will survive, so you tuck yourself tight to the counter so that you won't have to explain to Wade why the cupboard door is off its hinges.

Leaning forwards more only pushes your ass out further, and Logan groans, dick twitching, as he's able to thrust more viciously beneath the curve of your ass. He's humping you like a dog, a depraved pace set as he chases an impending orgasm.

"Taking you in your brother's house- aagh, shit," Logan grunts, nose nudging against the back of your neck as he inhales your sweat, "God he's gonna drop his swords on this fucking counter as soon as he walks through the door, not- not even gonna know your tits were smashed up against it. He's gonna get coke from that cabinet in an hour," Logan's voice is strained, moreso the faster he pumps his hips, and all you can do is cry out as he ravages your cunt, "He's never gonna know I made his sister cream up against it. Never gonna know I fucked my fuckin' babies into you here, aah- agh-I-!"

Logan bites, hard against your shoulder, catching some of your neck in the process and introducing yet another blindingly painful sensation that turns into sick, twisted pleasure between your legs. Your cunt is spent, barely capable of another orgasm after you'd already had two fucked out of you before, but it gives you its best shot as Logan's thick, warm cum gushes into you, immediately too much for your poor pussy to handle as it drips down your thighs instead.

Logan relinquishes your shoulder with a low groan, his breath coming hot and heavy as he pants, "You alright?"

"Yeah," You whimper, legs shaking as Logan holds you steady, "I- I don't think I can stand anymore."

"That's okay." Logan hums, gentler now that he's fucked himself calm. He peels you off of the counter, supporting your body weight as he half-walks, half-drags you down the hallway towards his bedroom, "Next round's on my bed, sweetheart. You won't need to move a muscle."