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bunny584 · 3 months

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OBSESSED: NANAMI (PT. II)

A/N: Because our collective husband won the contest. Gege texted me saying obviously Nanami would win. He also said if I don’t post a second part immediately Choso gets the boot next season. So I’m doing this for ALL of us 🤗 (I swear, I swear I’m 90% done with H&H for those of you that follow/have tolerated my lollygagging).

C/W: Fluff, Breeding, Mature, 18+

“It wasn’t over…it still isn’t over.”

Lines from The Notebook bubble from your lips onto Nanami’s bare chest. You’re curled onto him like a Cheshire cat. Your pretty, flushed mouth pets him. Followed closely by muffled sniffles. You bury your misty eyes and runny nose into his ratty, old college baseball shirt.

The one washed heather grey from the days turned months turned years of your careful handwashing.

I can get you another shirt, my love.

But I want this one, Ken. It reminds me of when we first fell in love.

Your answer is the same whenever he offers. Pouring all of your being into mending the natural little holes, the frays, and strain that comes with time.

His precious girl.

You nurse his shirt back to health, time and time again. In the same way you kiss him on rainy Sunday mornings. And pull him into the kitchen to dance with you under candlelight. And sneak extra food into his packed lunch on days he has to work overtime.

You are celestial.

With you he’s entrenched in the Heavens.

With you he builds the palatial wings of his own personal Icarus. Flying close, nearly too close, to the blinding warmth of your Sun.

“It’s so romantic, isn’t it?”

You shift up higher on him. Torsos melding together. Both your thighs cradled between his pajama clad legs. Nanami drags his fingers along your delicate spine.

God, he revels in you like this.

“It is, baby.”

Nanami catches the glassy mosaic in your eyes. Worthy of display in the Sistine Chapel.

You quickly bury your head into his neck, embarrassed about crying over a movie you’ve both seen over 10 times.

“I’m being so ridiculous, I’m sorry. It’s the stupid, dumb, stupid hormones.”

You press a cloud soft kiss into his chest and it reverberates down to his thundering heart.

Truthfully, Nanami has spent the entirety of the film watching you.

Tiny wrinkles in your button nose during some scenes, giggles and full belly laughs at others. You try to bite back your sobs. Slap away your tears before they splash against his abs — like they don’t correlate with the same points in the plot everytime.

He purposefully chose The Notebook after dinner because of your reactions. Just so he could fall in love with you all over again.

Just like Icarus.

Who fell from flying too close to the Sun.

Because loving you feels like a blissful free fall. With no ground in sight.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” The words flow out of Nanami. He can’t seem to contain it.

A pretty gasp escapes you. You pull away from the TV to shift closer to his face.

“Oh, Ken. I can’t wait to—“

“Kiss me.” His voice is throaty, laced with growing need.

Such an obedient girl.

Your lips are addicting. A fiend’s paradise.

He surges his hands in your hair while his tongue traces and tastes every corner of your mouth. You whine into him. He sucks on your tongue before taking your bottom lip into his teeth.

“Baby,” You breathe against his lips. Gentle pants melding with his.

Nanami kisses a hushed I love you into your mouth, before shifting your bodies on the plush couch.

His cock has been throbbing the entire movie. His shirt has inevitably shrunken over the years. Where it used to fall past your mid thighs, now it rides halfway over your hips.

Your plump, perky ass has been in plain view the whole night. Nothing protecting you from his invasion except for a thin, baby doll thong. Navy. Like the letters on his alma mater’s shirt.

Because your body is in heat, preparing you for a baby, your breasts are noticeably larger.

Filling out his shirt in the most mouth watering way. Your nipples, hard and sensitive, enticing him with every miniscule movement.

God, the way you wince and squeal when you brush your buds too harshly against him. Or whimper when the supple, puffy flesh of your tits push against his rigid body a little too hard.

His cock bucks off his thigh every single time.

The next 3 days Nanami will be reduced to the most rudimentary version of himself.

He’ll follow you around the house like a lap dog. Burying his nose and mouth and lips and tongue into every part of your body. He’ll grope you. Rub his crotch into you at every turn. Cum from just sucking on your nipples, if you let him.

You two have decided to abstain from sex when you ovulate. Until you are ready to create a love child.

He says you, because Nanami is fully ready, eager, to have mini-yous filling his home with life.

And really, he’s happy to let you dictate your family planning.

But the next 3 days will be torture. His needy, oversensitive heavy cock will drive every thought. He’ll jerk off more times than he can count.

Nanami is on his back now, with you perfectly perched on his manhood. Nothing but your thin panties cupping your precious little cunt. His length tents right up against you, begging for entry.

Both of your warm hands caress each hill and valley of his abs. Little crystals line your wide, puppy eyes. Tip of your nose so deeply flushed from all your tears. Cheeks dusted rose from your sex rubbing against his in this position.

No matter how many years you two have been intimate, you always blush, and squirm, and look away and hide your face like it’s the first time.

And it just makes him want to bury his cock in you. And take you. And worship you. And keep you swollen with his cum.

“How did I get so lucky?”

Again, Nanami means to think the statement but it rolls off his tongue on its own accord.

“D-do you mean that?” The way your bottom lip quivers makes his cock drool.

“My love. Your name was etched into my heart from the day I met you.”

Nanami pulls himself up so that your chest collides with his. You whimper at the sudden contact and the sound decimates his brain.

He crashes his lips into yours once more.

Your sweet mouth is blinding. You immediately evanesce into him. Little “ohs” and little “mmms” escape you in the pockets of breath Nanami allows you.

His cock jerks violently against your warm, dewy folds. Your arousal has soaked through your measly barrier. Now mixing with his, staining his sweats.

“Oh sweetheart,” Nanami husks against your lips. His fingers go to move your thong aside and are now drenched.

“So wet for me. Such a needy girl.”

He circles your puffy clit twice. And you buck against his veiny hand.

“Mmnnggh…oh god, K-Ken..” broken little moans kiss Nanami’s neck, while he pets your soaking wet folds.

“My precious girl,” he muses, fully aware of how pliant you become under his sweet words and light touch.

Nanami shifts his hips upward, just to avoid his legs falling asleep. But the sound that emanates from your lips is mind altering.

The friction from his fingers on your sensitive bud and his barely clothed, steel pipe length bullying into your opening drives you to see stars.

You bury your head back into the crook of his neck. So embarrassed about the way your hips start rutting against his cock. Slowly. On low autopilot.

Nanami grips your fleshy ass with his free hand. Pushing you deeper onto his rod every time you hump him.

“Oh yeah, baby?”

He gently teases into your ear. It’s such a fucking turn on. You rutting against him so desperately. Blushing up to your ears. Trying and failing miserably at fighting your body when it’s in heat like this.

Your nails dig little crescents into Nanami’s back. Small little puffs of air feather his skin.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” Nanami huffs.

“Use my cock. Make yourself feel good.”

You mewl at his words. Frustrated that the friction you want, need, is escaping you.

“I-I’m so…” words broken by your sloppy, desperate humping. Nanami grips your ass tighter. He suspends his hips upward to help you.

But his adjustments just make you whine louder. Pulling your face out of his neck to glare at him. Little frustrated crystals fall from your eyes. Your pupils are completely blown. Eyelids heavy. Nostrils flaring.

Fucking hell.

He could cum from just looking at you right now.

You need his cock. It feels criminal not to sink into your begging, decadent, pretty little cunt right now. When your body has worked so hard to prepare you to be stuffed and bred.

“I’m so horny,” another salty tear rolls down your pretty face.

And Nanami has to look up at the ceiling.

Because you say things like that.

While dripping around his dick. With your puffy tits and lips. Wearing his shirt that reminds you both of when you first fell in love.

How can you expect him to maintain any decorum?

“I-I-I love you with all my heart, Kento.”

And, he’s off.

You snap his last remaining string of self control in half.

Nanami takes another bruising kiss from your lips. His hands start dragging his shirt over your head. And you immediately moan into him.

“Be gentle with it!” You scold through delirious groans.

He can’t help but smile against your lips. His sweet, tender hearted future wife. So protective. Even if it’s just a cotton t-shirt.

“Forgive me baby, I’ll be more gentle.”

Willing his hands to move a beat slower. He pulls the prized possession over your head and sets it on the couch ledge behind you.

His eyes instantly drop to your sensitive nipples. And you squirm away from his searing gaze.

“My beautiful wife.” Nanami murmurs.

He places feather light kisses on your sensitive mounds.

Your tiny fingers wire through his hair and gently tug. And Nanami’s cock twitches in return. Leaking more of his arousal onto the mess you both have created.

“Can I make love to you baby? All I need is my tongue.”

Grit in his tone almost sharp enough to nick your skin.

You roll your bottom lip under your teeth. Wanton and utterly fucked out, you drop your hand to his crotch for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss from your soon-to-be husband.

“I want to feel you.” Hot desire woven throughout your angelic features.

Your voice calls to his manhood. The last remaining blood in his brain diverts directly to his groin.

“I…” Nanami pulls in a deep, shaky breath.

“I won’t be able to pull out, pretty girl.”

You take a kiss this time, swirling your sweet tongue around his. Nanami melts into your mouth like chocolate. Palming both of your hips with his large hands.

Pull out? He won’t be able to last more than 5 seconds inside you at this rate.

“You’re my husband,” your dulcet voice absolutely fucking his brain.

“And I want to feel you.”

Nanami has to bite back a pathetic whine. There’s barely 3 seconds left before he’s thrusting into you like the caged animal he is.

“Sweetheart, I could…” No, he knows he will.

“I will get you pregnant tonight.”

He offers you the last warning he’ll be able to mumble before he starts.

You cup his face. Place a chaste kiss on his swollen lips and grind onto his helplessly rock hard cock.

“Then let’s make a baby.”

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trashmouth-richie · 1 month

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I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…

Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.

*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.

OH MY LOVE.

hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.

18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.

**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤

<1k

send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)

Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant.

Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out.

“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”

One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month.

Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.

You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock?

Eddie was naked.

Pale-moon colored ass on display.

Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding.

His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.

Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them.

Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep.

And then you hear it.

A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat.

Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures.

Oh—fuck.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend.

Jesus.

Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob.

Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP.

The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it.

Fuck.

Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut.

Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT

With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.

What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time.

Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth.

You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical.

A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?

It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates.

Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria?

The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk.

How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin.

The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate.

You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment.

Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown.

You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear.

“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead.

You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet.

“We need to talk.”

part two

steve tied up

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie drabble #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie blurb #eddie munson smut blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst

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sleepanonymous · 24 days

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REVELATIONS NEWS ❖ COMMENT ❖ HEAVY FUCKING METAL HOT NEW BAND

Sleep is not just for the weak, according to Vessel and co

STAY TOKE The gimmick may be goofy, but Sleep Token’s music is no laughing matter

“My favourite 90s album is Fantastic Planet by Failure. It’s devastatingly bleak in a way that resonates into our deepest self.” – VESSEL (VOCALS)

SOUNDS LIKE an intriguing and shadowy blend of atmospheric post-rock and tech FOR FANS OF Meshuggah, Bon Iver, Explosions in the Sky LISTEN TO Calcutta

Over the years Metal Hammer has heard all manner of bizarre sonic coalitions and watched bands emerge from the deepest, weirdest corners of our scene, yet mysterious collective Sleep Token are up there among the most unique and ‘WTF?’ propositions so far. Not only is their music a fairly unclassifiable fusion of brutal tech-metal and atmospheric post-rock, but the band, driven by masked and cloaked frontman Vessel, claim to live in thrall to an ancient deity called Sleep. OK…

Much like Ghost’s Nameless Ghouls, the remaining members of Sleep Token have chosen to remain anonymous in order to retain their shadowy presence— only agreeing to answer our questions via email.

“They go hand in hand,” explains Vessel when we ask if the band’s sound and image are simply an exercise in gimmickry. “Sleep Token serves to add a visual dimension to our journey. A world without texture isn’t a world at all.” The story goes that Vessel first encountered Sleep in a dream where he was promised glory and magnificence in return for his worship. “He is the oldest God, a primal majesty that has endured the ages unperturbed by the morality of a flawed and chaotic human race,” says the frontman helpfully. “He is everyone. He is you. There’s a power in music that binds us all, every note relates to another. He showed me a vision of a world filled with depth and texture.”

OK, so their ‘backstory’ is silly. But as far as the music’s concerned, Sleep Token are an undeniably intriguing prospect, inhibiting a sparse world of heart-breaking beauty and intense heaviness where start, and sometimes sinister skeletal soundscapes build to throbbing climaxes with mesmerising effect. Recent single Calcutta, which premiered on Hammer’s website, builds like a storm: violent, djent-tinged destruction erupting amid Vessel’s ethereal and vulnerable Bon Iver-esque vocals.

“We sculpt, build and craft these sounds with an aim to deliver the emotional magnitude of His words,” says Vessel. “Destroy and rebuild over and over until what is left is what His followers shall hear. The influences come from the physical and emotionally charged world at large. Dreams are textural, so is music and much like life; they bring both darkness and life, beauty and ugliness— it’s our job to translate and convey those complexities as best we can. Each of these songs is an experience, but to find the real details you’ll have to explore them yourself. The music will ring out and people will continue to follow, for that’s what people do best. Follow. Stay with us and we’ll show you the whole world through His eyes. What a magnificent sight that is.”

“WE WORSHIP THE OLDEST GOD, A PRIMAL MAJESTY”

SLEEP TOKEN’S NEW EP, TWO, IS OUT NOW VIA BASICK

METALHAMMER.COM

(This is in my Google Drive also, here.)

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #vessel #vessel interview #metal hammer #lost media #circa 2017 #wake up sleepy babes #new vessel/sleep lore just dropped #(and by just dropped i mean has been around for 7 years)#metalhammer let me read the full emails i beg

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