#I don't have any good yellow shirts as of now

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

@whenindoubtb72, @different-tale-student, @sharingisntkaren, @current-steddie-brainrot, @willim-billiam-byerson, @nuggies4life

@lostgurl-12, @anomalygal, @synonym-for-strange, @sani-86, @missmagillicuddy, @ilikechocolatemilkh, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @harringrieve, @awesomeimportantfan, @fredtheemoplant, @warlordess, @therealscarletpumpernickel, @gsvshsjsbs, @mightbeasleep, @mollymawkwrites

@lil-gremlin-things, @honorarybrit81, @sonny-ray-of-goth, @potent-idiocy, @fandomcartographer, @heartsong18, @lingeringmirth, @ko0kyco0kies, @ccomandercody, @spiderman-stilinski, @l0st-strawberry, @xxsky-shockxx, @stilesstickitinme, @boxsam, @thepansexualsnake, @37-screamingfrogs, @yourmom-isgay, @brainsteddielyrotted, @plasticcrotches, @hannahhook7744

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #good vibrations steddie #deaf steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #my writing

[number1jeonginstan]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a story in which hyunjin overstimulates y/n? And if you want, could you make y/n sensible and scared? Ty! I love your writing btw!

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to get this out, I’ve been kind of in a slump for writing and then I got the idea for what I should do because I was kinda struggling for a minute. I hope you liked it and I’m so thankful for the request! Thank you so much for your time and patience, I really appreciate it.

WC: 1.25k

Pairing: Hyunjin x (established relationship) afab!reader

Minors don't interact, 18+

Warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, some light slapping, good girl, baby, use of that stuff, idk what else tbh this was written at like 1 am

It was a lazy day between you and Hyunjin. Both still in your pajamas, you in silk shorts and one of his t-shirts, and him in his matching yellow and white checkered pajamas. You enjoyed this new mystery novel on his bed while he painted in his studio. It was the comfort of being next to one another that you had no idea what was yet to come. 

As you turned to the next page in your book, Hyunjin got up coming towards you. “Wanna have sex?” He asked, lying down next to you on the bed. You barely paid attention to him, too immersed in your book, simply humming. 

“Come on” he groaned lifting his head to you, “I need you baby” he huffed, still not eliciting a reaction from you. To try and get any reaction out of you, he began to run his fingers on your thighs. 

Ts when he ran his fingers along your thighs, placing wet kisses along your smooth thigh. “Jinnie, please” you whined “I want to finish this chapter, they are about to say who did it” 

“Wow, a book is more interesting than fucking your insanely hot boyfriend?” 

“Right now, yes!” you giggled, finishing reading the page you were on. Before you could even turn the page, he snatched the book out of your hand. “Don’t you dare fold the corner” you yelled, trying to snatch the book back. He giggled adding the bookmark he made you as a gift to mark the page. He got up and placed the book on his easel, far from your reach. 

“Fine” you groaned, falling back onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow. He walked back to the bed, crawling on top of you so his thighs locked yours in place. He placed a kiss on your lips, causing a giggle to leave your lips.

He moved to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the spot that drove you crazy. You could slowly feel yourself getting wetter. “Jinnie, please stop teasing” you whined, rubbing your thighs together to get any sort of stimulation. “I need you” 

“Be patient baby, we have all the time in the world”

He kissed your lips once again, trying to savor your taste. He began to move down your body, lifting your (his) shirt slightly to kiss your stomach, slowly moving down to your shorts. Without hesitation, he pulled down your shorts and underwear, throwing them somewhere in your shared room. 

“Fuck baby, this pussy is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” he ran his fingers across your folds, capturing your wetness and putting his finger in his mouth, licking it off his fingers. “And you taste even better” 

You moaned watching him, and before you could even say anything, he dove into your pussy. His plush lips kissed your clit as he slowly inserted one of his long fingers into your hole. You grabbed his hair in his hand, forcing him to eat you like a man starved, and he was happy to. 

He was licking every inch of your pussy, slowly inserting another finger to give you the extra stimulation you needed. His fingers were long, not as long as his cock, but longer than your own and he was skilled with them. It took him another minute for you to cum around his fingers, moaning his name as your walls clenched around them. 

He began to kiss down your thigh, his plush lips covered in your cum from eating you out. “Jinnie, please, need you” you whined.

“You are a greedy little girl aren’t you, just made you cum with my mouth and fingers, but you are still begging for my cock” 

He slapped your thigh lightly, moving so he was on top of you, in between your legs. “Fuck, you are such a slut” he groaned, pulling his already hard cock from the confines of his boxers. The tip was already red, pre-cum slowly dripping out of the tip.

“Who’s the slut now?” you giggled, trying to joke around, but it only made Hyunjin to tease you more. Before you could react, he grabbed your face, making you look directly into his eyes. “If you keep acting like this, I’m going to fuck you like the little whore you are” 

“Sure Hyunjin, you can try and do that” You rolled your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend would never “fuck” you. Whenever the two of you had sex, he always liked to describe it as making love. He was someone who believed that sex was something that should be cherished. 

“Don’t test me baby, tonight you are going to be my cocksleeve” Before you could even react, he thrust his cock inside of you, not even giving you a warning. “How can you be such a whore and have such a tight pussy” 

You just moaned you had never seen him this way, and you were a bit scared, and your face reflected it. “Aww, baby don’t be scared, you’ll get to cum, don’t worry”

He nibbled on your ear softly, his pillow lips wrapping around your lobe as he continued to thrust into you. He slowly began to lift your legs slightly, signaling you to wrap your legs around his back, allowing him to hit that one spot inside your cunt.

“Such a good girl, moaning for my cock. Is it just that good?” 

He continued to thrust into you, not faltering his pace as he continued to abuse that one spot inside of you. All you could do was moan out in response. You were too fucked out, getting fucked too well to even understand the words coming out of his mouth. 

He slapped your face slightly, causing you to look up straight into his eyes. “I asked you a question, is my cock that good” 

“Yes Jinnie, your cock is the best I’ve ever had” you moaned out loud. He kissed your lips, muttering “good girl” on them, and with him thrusting into that one spot that made you whine, it was all you needed to cum. 

“Fuck baby, I can feel your walls clenching around me, but just because you came, doesn’t mean we are done” You whined, feeling overstimulated as he continued to abuse your pussy like there is no tomorrow. 

It all felt too much, him continuing to thrust into you even though you had just cum. You thrashed around slightly, not being able to take it. Just as you thought you were going to break, like the world around you was going to go black, he came inside of you, kissing your lips. 

You were still out of it as he quickly got up, getting a cloth to clean the cum that was spilling you out of with as well as a glass of water. “Baby, I need you to drink this” 

You just nodded, slowly drinking the glass of water that your boyfriend was holding in front of you. 

“Sorry if I was too rough, I just overheard you say that you wanted me to fuck you more often, I hope it was okay” 

He looked like a hurt puppy so you pulled him close to you, kissing his lips gently. “It was amazing Jinnie, but next time, give me some warning because I was scared shitless” 

He just giggled as he wrapped his arms around you as you both fell asleep together. Maybe not knowing the end of the book is worth it. 

#ju <3 answers #fucking finally getting back into the groove of writing #stray kids #skz #straykids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #straykids smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin skz #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyujin imagines #skz fluff #ju <3 writes #ju's <3 anons

[lovelytsunoda]

nation of two // oscar piastri

summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.

authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are

the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.

"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.

oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.

"don't be such a baby!"

"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"

"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."

she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"

she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.

she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)

"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.

the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.

they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?

it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.

and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.

"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"

"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"

the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.

one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.

well, everybody except y/n.

"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"

not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."

"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.

lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"

"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."

y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."

"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.

see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.

the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.

"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."

oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.

"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.

"i'm fine!"

when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.

"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"

"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.

it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.

they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.

it's okay. you can do this.

"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.

"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.

the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.

"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."

she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."

"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''

she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."

oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.

the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.

"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."

the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.

and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.

outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,

"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.

"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.

outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.

"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."

"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri

#oscar piastri x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #f1 x y/n

[allbark-no-bite]

Ignorance is Bliss || Coriolanus Snow x reader

summary: there’s something to love about the simplicity of boyhood. or in which there’s still good in Coriolanus and you love him

warnings: none really. this is just self-indulgent fluff. maybe slight mention of smut

word count: 1.3k

authors note: okay first of all ik everyone here spells it Coryo, but i much prefer Corio. the Hunger Games was the first ever fandom that i wrote for nearly 8 years ago (please don’t read my wattpad) and i’m so excited to have an up to date fic posted on here! the Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes revived my love for the series and i hope you all enjoy :)

The sky shifts from a faint blue to yellow with the approaching evening light. In just a few minutes the swarms of awakening insects will be almost too much to bear. He swallows, and the combination of his dry mouth and the lack of humidity makes it feel as though his throat sticks together with the action. Being so deep in the forest, away from the rest of civilization, the air out here is so fresh that just breathing it is dizzying.

By now he's so used to the polluted air of District 12 that this sort of clarity is a startling but welcomed reprieve. In the Capitol, he'd grown up hearing stories of the miners in 12 who would eventually succumb to the horrific fate of suffocation, their lungs black from years of inhaling coal dust. Even after just a few months of being assigned as a peacekeeper to the district, the undersides of his fingernails had turned permanently black with the dust.

The games are far from his mind these days—at least most of the time they are. He has done his best to put those horrors in the past. He is no longer a Capitol student, fighting to prove that he belongs there in his hand me down shoes and shirts with buttons made of bathroom tile. Those days now seem like an entirely different lifetime.

His heart rate slows to the point that his chest hardly rises, and his only sign of consciousness is the occasional flicker of his eyes as he fights to keep from dozing off. He lies there watching the sky and counts the hours until the sun is swallowed by the horizon.

It's considerably quiet save for the breeze moving through the leaves of the trees overhead and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot of a forest animal. Five more minutes and he'll get up.

Movement at his side makes him grunt. It's not much, just a shifting of weight, but it still forces a puff of air out of him. Underneath the cream undershirt of his uniform is a mess of slowly healing, raw pink flesh. His body still hurts from weeks ago.

The district boy's spear had stabbed straight through  the muscle of his shoulder and was rapidly on the mend thanks to Dr. Gaul. The burns on his back were healing on their own accord, albeit slower than he would have liked. All things considering, his wounds had been relatively insignificant.

He had seen tributes sustain much worse things in the games before. He'd take a couple of burns over a severed head any day.

This time the weight lifts almost completely from crevice of his side and his attention shifts to the body beside him. You'd been curled up, asleep at his side the the better part of an hour.

"Where are you—" His question is cut off as your weight returns, this time into the pit of his stomach, curling up against the curve of his lean body. It half knocks the breath out of him. You have the tendency to do that to him.

With your cheek pressed into his gut, your hand reaches out for his own and he willingly complies, linking his slender fingers with your own. Perhaps you don't realize it but this is the same way he first touched you, hand in hand back in the zoo, and it will always mean more than anything to him. It is this thought that causes him to bring your wrist to his mouth and press his lips against it.

His mouth is warm against your skin, and even if you don't know exactly where the gesture of affection came from, you reciprocate it with the same tenderness.

"What are you thinking about?" You finally ask, breaking a long hour of comfortable silence.

You.

Rather than answering, Coriolanus hums in acknowledgment of your question. "Corio—" At the same time, he swings his leg over your hip, switching positions so that his body is hovering above your own.

"Hi."

You grin, fingers grabbing hold of the cool metal of his dog tags that hang down from his neck.

"Hi."

Looking pleased with himself, he dips his head down, capturing your lips with his own. You were his, and he was constantly refiguring that out.

The kiss is sweet, tamer than what you're used to from him. Not that he's ever been unpleasant, you adored Coriolanus and just about everything about him. But he was a man. A boy growing into a man and that came it, its own boyish tendencies. Regardless, rarely ever did you discourage his wandering hands.

You can't help but smile at the feel of his lean, brawny body pressed against yours. He'd been thin with hunger back at the Capitol. His time in District 12 training as a peacekeeper had done him well. Not only had he become sturdier with muscle, but somehow taller too. One of his legs is wedged between your own, and through his trousers you can feel him, half hard with interest.

Coriolanus pulls away from the kiss at the feel of your lips pulled into a smile. His brows furrow together in confusion, but your smile is infectious and soon enough his own frown is tilted upwards. "What? What are you smiling about?"

You attempt to subdue your grin at his inquiry, but it's to little avail, and that only drives his insistence. "(Y/n). What've I done?"

"Nothing," you laugh, a palm coming up to cup the side of his jaw so that your thumb can smooth over the sharp protrusion of his cheekbone. Normally the action would be enough to distract him, but he's persistent.

"(Y/n)."

“Really, it's nothing," you insist. "I just... I love you." That is what you settle on. I love you.

You love the naivety in which he is able to love. Pure and untainted by heartbreak. Too young to know much at all. Even too inexperienced to realize that there were more ways to satisfy his desire for you than just kissing. His body wanted you in the way that a man wanted a woman, and while he surely felt the effects of that attraction, his pure intentions had yet to stray.

Coriolanus' clear blue eyes narrow in slight skepticism but he doesn't press you any further. "I love you too," he says, lifting his hand to slip his fingers into your hair and massage at the base of your scalp. At the same time, his thumb presses up into your jaw, tilting your chin upwards so that he can kiss you again.

This time you indulge him further and kiss him back a bit more forcefully than before. Your hand finds the short crop of his blonde hair, and like a cat preening under the attention, his body reacts in tandem. He half snorts in amusement at your reciprocation but doesn't comment, too pleased to pull away long enough to taunt you.

Coriolanus takes it upon himself to deepen the kiss, the force of his lips upon yours not yet bruising but certainly heading there. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring the taste of your mouth. At the same time, one of his slender hands slides down your side, his fingers grasping at the curve of your hip.

The day will come that his desires get the best of him, and he’ll want more of you. Frivolous things such as the wrestling and the making out that the two of you do now won’t satisfy him later. And while the thought doesn’t bother you, it’s nice what you have with him now. It’s so simple and so easy to love him and his still boyish self now. The time will come eventually, and that’s okay. You’ve got a lifetime together after all.

#coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tia Tana

Magdalena Eriksson x Hardersson!Reader

Aitana Bonmatí x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The match against Spain

Spain knocks Sweden out of the World Cup...Well, Sweden still has to play for the third-place title so you suppose they're not fully knocked out but knocked out enough that they won't be continuing to the final.

It's a little sad and Morsa looks a little teary as she holds you tight for a few seconds before drawing back and pushing the hair out of your face.

"You're still going to get a medal," She tells you," Another bronze to hang in your room."

You nod. "Okay."

Despite the loss, the other Sweden girls seem content to mill around with Spain and laugh and joke with them. It's a little weird but you're fine with it and Morsa lets you go on the provision that you don't leave the pitch.

You think she worries too much but do as she says.

You make a few stops on the way. You give Johanna and Zećira big hugs on your way around and make sure to stop to take a picture with Nathalie and Filippa before beelining straight for moster Frido.

She picks you up instantly, without you even having to ask, and you move about until you're on her back.

"Moster," You say," When I'm older, are you going to come watch me play at the World Cup?"

She laughs. "Of course I will. You're still giving me your shirt, right?"

"Not my final one," You reply," Because I already promised that to someone else but maybe another one."

"Well," Frido says," As long as I get one of them, I don't mind."

"One of what?"

It was a new voice this time but definitely a vaguely familiar one. You perk up on Frido's back and look down to see Aitana standing in front of you both.

Frido bounces you. "This little monster's going to compete in a World Cup one day. She's already promised someone her final's shirt but I've bartered for another one. You should make an agreement now. By the time this one plays a World Cup, she might not have any more jerseys to give out."

Aitana smiles, all warm and happy at you. "Well, in that case, I'd like to reserve the one that you wear when you play against Spain."

"Okay!" You agree, hanging precariously on Frido's back," Moster, did you hear? Aitana wants my shirt like she wanted Momma's shirt."

"I did hear," Frido says, her arm reaching back to grab at you. She twists you around until you're hanging by your ankles and your special Morsa jersey is covering your eyes.

"Moster?" Aitana echoes as you're placed upright again and stumble around for a few seconds. "What does that mean?"

"Auntie," Frido says as you fall to the ground and giggle about the headrush," I've known her for longer than anyone else on the team except maybe Nilla but that's only because she played at Wolfsburg with Pernille when she was born."

"You are the favourite then?"

"Second favourite," Frido says begrudgingly," Zećira's her idol. It's kind of cute. She's holding herself to Zećira's standard when she's older, swears up and down that she's going to be just as good. Sadly, the rest of us have to settle for being less popular than Zećira."

Aitana laughs as she swaps her shirt for Frido's like they had agreed earlier.

"Just watch. Hey, y/n, who's your favourite Sweden player?"

"Zećira!"

"See? Poor old Auntie Frido, never the favourite."

You pat her on the side and nod along. "It's okay," You say," Not everyone is as cool as Zećira. Morsa says it's good to know what your weaknesses are."

Aitana giggles as she kneels in front of you. "You know, Spain has some pretty good goalkeepers too. Do you want to go meet them? Some of the Barcelona girls who sent you their jerseys are here too. I can introduce you."

You think for a moment and lean to the side to look at Frido. "Can I?"

"Off you go," She says," But don't wander into their changing room, okay? And come back to me or someone else in yellow when you're done!"

"Moster Frido worries," You tell Aitana," She babysits when Momma and Morsa go on dates back in Sweden."

"Is Sweden your home?" Aitana asks.

"Sometimes," You reply," And sometimes Denmark. Momma and Morsa like to talk about where we'll live when they retire. They don't know yet."

"Well, where do you want to live?"

"Er..." You've never really thought about that. "I don't mind. If we live in Denmark, we get to see Momma's parents all the time but Moster Frido goes home to Sweden a lot and it would be nice to see her too."

"In Spanish," Aitana says as you both approach a group of girls in Spain red," Moster is Tia."

"Tia," You repeat. Aitana's pretty cool and she plays in Spain for Barcelona. Morsa's told you that Barcelona is a very good team. Maybe when you're older and before you go to Wolfsburg, you'll play for Barcelona too. It could be fun. You'd have to learn Spanish too.

Aitana seems to think the same because she gives you words in English before translating them to Spanish but you're still hung up on Tia.

You get closer to the girls in red. You recognise only a few, Alexia (from the few times you've met her) and Ona (who you know from Not-Wolfsburg matches against Manchester United) but most of them are unknown to you.

You hang back a bit, clinging to the familiar yellow of the shirt Aitana swapped with Frido.

"Tia Tana?" You ask," Up, please?"

She's frozen for a fraction of a second before you're up on her hip so you can meet everyone at the same level.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[riaki]

an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader

pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3

not proofread

"su— guru!"

he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.

you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.

he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.

"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.

you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.

soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.

"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.

you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.

but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.

"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.

"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.

"um, yeah."

"so.. it burned up?"

"yes."

"you don't have it anymore."

"no, i don't."

"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.

"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.

"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”

his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.

his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.

you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

...

he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur— always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.

he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.

he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.

suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.

"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.

and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.

you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.

it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.

when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.

and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.

needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

#i’m gonna fail my tests. #STOP THIS IS SO BAD BC ITS SO RUSHED IM SORRY 😭 #all i’ve been thinking about recently is aki so sorry if it’s ooc #i’ll try to fix that for the next ones #catoru cameo??? maybe?????? #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto #suguru geto #jjk x reader #jjk x you #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #riko’s christmas event #stop bc what even is this

[russellsppttemplates]

I know it’s very early but dad!Lando with a baby girl 🥺

Note: think of this as a sneak peak 🤭 also, this is my first Lando blurb, I hope I did well!!

Tw: postpartum, breastfeeding

"Oh, what a big stretch that one was, little one", Lando cooed at your daughter as he picked her up from her bassinet. She had just woken up from her nap, meaning he would change her diaper, feed her and have some cuddles while he took care of dinner. You had been home from the hospital for eight days now, and the routine had settled in nicely. Lando wanted to be involved as much as possible so he would often be in charge of dinner while you put Matilda to sleep and he had barely let you be the one to change her diapers as he wanted you to rest as much as possible, even when you said you could do it sitting down with a protective matt on the bed.

"You're going to be all clean, let daddy just wipe around here an- oh", he stopped his ministrations. As he wiped the skin on her lower belly, the remnants of her cord falling and sticking to the wipe, "well, that's happened now, so let's get you dressed so we can tell mummy the news. How does that sound?", he said as he grabbed a new diaper, holding her legs gently as he fastened it and put her pants back on.

"Do you think mummy's awake? You did keep us up a bit last night, but let's see. Look, she's awake", Lando said as he walked in the living room, seeing you fold some laundry, "mummy has found the basket I forgot to take to the office so she wouldn't see it", your husband blushed as you shook your head, "I can do this perfectly fine, love", you showed him, exaggerating your movements and folding techniques.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?", you asked as he sat next to you, helping you push the laundry basket to the side so you could feed your daughter, "Matilda's cord fell when I was changing her diaper", Lando said as you pouted, "That's a big milestone, baby girl! And it also means you get to have your first bath, I bet your bum will be thankful, too", you giggled at your little girl.

"The skin is a bit stained yellow, yes. We could do that tonight while dinner cooks. I can take one of mum's casseroles out of the freezer because I honestly don't feel like cooking from scratch today", he admitted, kissing your naked shoulder and looking down at your daughter, happily suckling on your nipple.

When she woke up again and Lando had just turned on the oven, you made your way upstairs to the ensuite, Lando making a stop in the nursery to grab a change of clothes for Matilda and her bath products, "sitting is fine, but kneeling down will be harder for me", you said as you cuddled your daughter's naked body against your chest, covering her with a towell for the time being.

"Why don't you get in with her, hm?", your husband whispered, looking for any sign of uneasiness and finding only comfort and acceptance as he pulled your pants down along with the disposable underwear, kissing your thighs sweetly before coming back up and helping you undo your shirt, making sure Matilda was secure as he stripped your torso of your clothing, "here, I'll hold her so you can get in", he nudged, holding the baby as you stepped inside the tub.

Once you were comfortable, he placed Matilda back against your chest, the baby cursing up against your skin, "it's okay, my love", you kissed the top of her head as Lando checked the water temperature, filling the tub enough for you to not feel cold either and grabbing the small bowl and flannel cloth so he could wet it and run it on your daughter's back, gently extending it to her limbs and her tummy, "do you like that, baby girl? It's warm and nice, smells good, too", he cooed, seeing her react to his voice as she looked around for him.

Placing the warm flannel cloth, Lando muttered "I'll be back in a second" before he got up and you could hear him looking for something in the bedroom, coming back to the bathroom with his camera, "I want to have this memory saved forever", he smiled, turning on the camera as he captured the moment.

Even though you were naked after having given birth to your baby just a few days before, you never felt more comfortable as Lando snapped pictures, kissing your cheek and Matilda's head as he found the angles he wanted.

"C'mon, little one", he said as he set the camera by the sink, "let's get you dressed", opening her towell and wrapping it around her, her embroidered name on the hood making her look deliciously cute as he set her on your shared bed, coming back to the bathroom to help you out too, "gorgeous, mummy, breathtakingly gorgeous", he complimented, kissing your lips before you out on your robe, walking to the bedroom.

Lando dried her body, putting on her diaper as you rubbed the lotion on her skin, kissing each of her fingers and smiling at your husband's attentiveness to her. Seeing the love of your life tending to your daughter was a sight to behold indeed.

"Don't you and mummy look cute in your pyjamas, Matilda?", he said as you buttoned your shirt, noticing the unintentionally matching clothes, the striped material on your shirt matching the giraffe on Matilda's bodysuit, "yes, you do! Yes, you do! C'mon, daddy gets to have cuddles with you while me and mummy have dinner", he cooed, grabbing the sling and walking downstairs with you, ready for another night in with his favourite girls.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[junipernight]

I redesigned Yangchen's outfit!

... I actually designed a lot of outfits for her, because I am Extremely Normal about these books, and also I like costume design and learning about historical clothing.

Short disclaimer: These fantasy clothes aren't culturally or historically accurate, just historically and culturally influenced. I don't have any expertise in East or Central Asian culture or clothing, I've just been clicking around on the internet a lot the last two weeks learning things because that's my idea of fun lol. If you wanted to talk to people who actually know things you should check out @atlaculture or like @ziseviolet, both of whom's blogs I referenced while drawing.

I only designed two alternates for the outer robes. The first is based loosely off the robes Buddhist monks wear (loosely, because drawing draped fabric is hard ^^') especially the Tibetan zhen robe. This garment is just a long wide rectangle of cloth which can be draped across the body in lots of ways (versatility ftw!).

The other garment I drew is a Chuba, a traditional garment from Tibet and the Himalayas. It's a robe, but it highkey reminds me of kilts and hoodies, in that it a) can be worn over one or both shoulders or just as a skirt and b) it makes a giant pocket over the stomach. The long sleeves can be folded up or tied back btw.

I spent the most time on the middle layer, because I was thinking it has to be something she could comfortably fight in while also being suitable for diplomatic meetings, meditating, espionage, and possibly sleeping.

And like. You can fight and hike and whatnot in loose skirts, but it's annoying how twisted up they can get while sleeping. ALSO, YC does a lot of flying and leaping, so my girl needs pants. My faves are definitely the Xiaolin monk pants and the yellow wrap pants Aang wears. I tried dhoti (Indian wrap pants) because that kind of looks like what the giant statue of Yangchen meditating might be wearing, but I think it looks odd paired with a highwaisted shirt instead of a long tunic. Maybe I'll do some more drawings with her in a tunic and dhoti or a monk's dhonka and shemdap later, idk.

As any good historical fashion nerd knows, foundational garments are everything (◡‿◡✿).

But also, there's a scene where Yangchen and Kavik pretend to be lovers, and are "discovered" by a maid sleeping in the same room, with Yangchen in a state of partial undress (gasp!)

I am living for this fake drama; I need to know how scandalized the maid was lmao.

When the maid walks in, Yangchen immediately wraps herself in a bedsheet before ushering the maid back out the door. Maybe all she did was take off her outer robe... but why would she need to wrap herself in a sheet if she was wearing a long-sleeved high-necked gown? I got the sense from both the book and cursory research about buddhist monks that walking around without your outer robes was socially acceptable, at least in casual settings. I think it more likely she was in her underclothes, which historically (in the west anyway) would also double as sleeping clothes.

"The Aang" is censored because this is Tumblr-dot-com. Its mostly a joke, but also, I know other countries are less uptight about bººbies, so like, maybe it's a valid option ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The ~Water Tribe~ look is based off Sokka's swimwear and not Katara's, mostly because chest binding seems antithetical to airbending.

All the other undergarment designs are based on hanfu neiyi, because that's what I could find reference photos and romanized names for.

I'm tired of typing now. Lemme know if you have questions about something, or want me to post a larger version of a specific outfit. I am open to feedback and tentatively open to requests.

#costume design #character redesign #Yangchen #avatar #airbenders #air nomads #avatar novels #chronicles of the avatar #atla #I realize now there are typos in the jpeg rip #too late to change it now

[oreoluvskento]

Mornings with Nanami

a/n: my nanami brainrot is still going so here's some more content :)

cw: sfw, kissing, early domestic life, y/n is a student, nanami teaches at a different university

915 words - was supposed to be a quick drabble but i kinda got carried away

It was 6 AM on a Tuesday morning and you didn't have any classes on campus. Unfortunately, Nanami had an eight AM class to teach. His alarm rang, the shrill song you know all too well causing you to immediately wake up. It takes your boyfriend a little bit longer to get up but you know he's awake when he tightens his arms around your waist. He grumbles something into the top of your head and you're not sure what he said but it was something along the lines of "It's too fucking early".

     "Good morning, Ken," You whisper against his skin and he hums in response. He turns over to turn the alarm off and he immediately returns to your side. He embraces you once again, this time with his head buried in your chest and he kisses you through the soft fabric as his hands stroke your back softly. 

     "I don't want to get up," He groans, his morning voice reverberating deep in your chest and you laugh as you run your hands through his silky yellow hair. 

      "Come on, baby. I'll still be here when you get back," You encourage him, slowly peeling his arms away from your body. He whines in protest but eventually stands up with you, following you to the bathroom. The two of you brush your teeth together at the separate sinks, and when you're done, you watch as he begins undressing to get in the shower. 

      You give him a quick kiss before you leave the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and head to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. You decide on making an omelet and toast, not wanting too many dishes to clean so you can spend more time with your boyfriend before he leaves. By the time you're done cooking, Nanami is out of the bathroom, and when you're done cleaning, he's already getting dressed. 

     You put a cover on his food to make sure it doesn't get cold, and you make your way to the bedroom to help him get dressed. When you get there, Nanami already has his pants on and he's just now shrugging his dress shirt on. You stand in front of him and help him do the many buttons, and he just smiles at you with loving eyes. Once you're done, he pulls you in for another kiss, his hand on the small of your back, and your arms around his neck. Nanami begins doing his tie after you pull away, but you protest, wanting to do it yourself. 

   You've watched him do it so many times that you can do it with your eyes closed, so you do it any chance you get. Once again, Nanami watches you as you help him with his tie, his eyes focused on your determined face, and he smiles when you celebrate after completing the loop. You tighten the tie and use that opportunity to pull him in for another kiss. You couldn't get enough of his lips and he couldn't get enough of yours either. It was more than a simple peck this time, Nanami wanted as much as possible before he had to leave. The kiss wasn't particularly rough but it's usually kisses like that which lead to the mind-blowing sex you were used to.

    Nanami takes his shoes with him to the kitchen and places them by the door, all while eying the plate that sat in the kitchen. You smile at him as he sits down at the kitchen's bar and you slide his plate towards him. Despite already having his food already, he waits until you sit down beside him before he starts eating. Nanami would prefer to eat with you but you never have breakfast with him on his early days. He asked you why one morning and you told him you simply didn't have an appetite at 7 AM. 

    Nanami eats quickly, obviously very hungry, and puts his plates in the sink. He moves to wash them but you immediately tell him not to, that you'll do it. He hesitantly stops and comes back to sit next to you, intertwining his fingers with yours. He complains some more, telling you how much he wants to stay in bed with you, wishing it was the weekend, and how he can't wait for the day to be over so he can get back to cuddling with you. 

     Time passes quickly, and before you know it, his watch says 7:30. You smile as he stands up and picks up his briefcase that he always leaves in the living room. Nanami never brings anything work-related into your guys' bedroom. He thinks that his briefcase being there will ruin the atmosphere that you two have created. You think it's funny but you don't disagree. 

     You walk him to the door, and as always, before he leaves, he turns around and places a kiss on your lips. Some mornings it's a peck, other mornings, he'll kiss you like that was the last time he was ever going to see you. Today was on the calmer side. He kisses you softly, pressing his lips against yours, and pulling away with a soft smile. He tells you goodbye and you lock the door behind him and go to the kitchen to wash his plate. You trudge back to the room and hug his pillow, already missing him.

#jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #kento nanami fluff #kento nanami

[ioniansunsets]

i loved your heartsteel!kayn scenarios! can you possibly do a scenario of fem!reader helping heartsteel!kayn dye his hair :3

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Getting His Hair Dyed by Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 900

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: He has his default skin braid here. Stay tuned for more. I MISS THIS FUCKER'S BRAID OK. Also you are his long term partner! I thought it would be cute if you have been supporting him though all his ups and downs uwu

----

" For reals, you've done this before right. Don't fuck it up I swear to god I will cry I'm dealing with enough shit right now babe." " You're the one that asked me to do this for you, have some trust in me."

You comb through his braid and neatly section if off one last time before slapping on the DIY at home bleach. After getting kicked out of his old band Kayn wanted a full makeover, so with five boxes of bleach and some whining he convinced you to help him bleach and dye his hair. You stood awkwardly behind him as you comb in the bleach. Kayn wasn't wearing a shirt, so that he wouldn't ruin any tees. So it was quite a sight, hair down, topless, you pause for a bit and stare. After some thinking you sigh, you were going to miss his blue and black hair...it was so soft too...

" Hey I heard that sigh! You know I HAVE to do this...I want to change my image, show them I'm better without them!"

Kayn pouts, you see it in the mirror and laugh. Slapping on more bleach, sectioning it out and complaining once again bout how the long hair sticks to the gloves and makes it all messy. But ok, you work hard, with a roll of aluminum foil ready you neatly bleach his long hair. As you wait for the first bleaching to set in you throw a little of the leftovers on your hair too, just enough for one strip.

" Should we match colors?"

You see Kayn visibly perk up as he hears your suggestion.

" Really? I think that will be cute. Like a cringey couple."

He smirks, leaning back to take a good look at you in the toilet mirror. He starts laughing loudly.

" Wait are you copying me or making fun of me! Why bleach that same chunk of hair as the old me!"

The two of you chat for a bit as you wait for the bleach to set in, when times up you help him wash it all off in the tub. Damn his hair was really such a dark black, it was just brown now. You comment about it needed a few more rounds of bleach. Kayn sighs this time instead, exhausted already but his rockstar image was at stake, he wanted to look cool so he had to do this. He had a goal already, an ombre fade of pink and purple, it would be so cool. Sitting back down, you blow dry his hair and start on round two.

And round three. Orange.

And four. Yellow.

And five before the yellow finally lifts enough! You were finally free from seeing that yellow, orange hue! And-

Oh no. You look at a handful of hair in your hands from where you combed through his hair.

" Kayn I am so sorry..." " No! I cannot deal with this right now please. Y/N Tell me its fine." " I'll fix it!"

You too were unsure how to react, were you going to cry or laugh. After five bleaches, his hair kinda...fried off. Ah...you were REALLY going to miss his long hair. Promising to fix it, you grab some hair scissors and did your best. With Kayn doing everything to hold himself together while you save what you can and work out a messy cut. It actually looked really good. You tell him to look up as you blow dry his hair yet again. Promising it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. Kayn tentatively pulls his hands away from his face as he looks at himself in the mirror. A smile slowly creeping across his face.

" Oh shit you really did fix it? The hell Y/N! Let's dye it right now! I still want that pink purple thing going down!"

He tilts his head left and right, trying to get a better look at it, an idol worthy style. Kayn nods, happy with what you've done with it. Quickly you work the colors onto his hair and yours. Laughing together as he admires himself in the mirror. Half an hour passes and you wash his hair and dry it off for the last time. Kayn himself also helping to wash the and dry your hair. You smile as the two of you admire your reflections.

" Is it me or are we looking super hot?"

He snakes and arm around your waist, pulling you close. Giving your cheek a quick kiss.

" I actually like this a lot I'm glad it worked out. Thank you Y/N."

Kayn gives you a warm smile as he runs his hands through his hair, giving it a little shake as it falls gracefully along his jawline. He turns his attention back to the mirror before he shouts.

" Oh shit yeah! Let me snap a photo!"

Kayn leaves the room for a bit, grabbing his phone and a nice shirt to snap a photo in. He returns, hand draped around your shoulder as he takes a mirror selfie with you both. The largest smile plastered on his face as he sits down and edits it to use as his new wallpaper. You would mourn his pretty braid but...he was still your charming boyfriend you could live with the new style. The short hair was starting to grow on your after all.

#Also I like just bleached and dyed my hair to match og Kayn and was thinking of this scenario the whole time LMAO #Anon Answer #Shieda Kayn #Shieda Kayn x Reader #SCENARIOS #League of Legends Scenarios #Kayn LoL #Heartsteel!Kayn #KaynLeague #Kayn League #Kayn x Reader #this might be a bit weird i hope its still fun to read #had some ????????!!!!!! writing this #also this is also from personal experience where i bleached my hair 7 times and it just snapped at random places oops

[steveshairychest]

It's raining.

Eddie leans his forehead against his bedroom window and sighs. It's raining on Valentine's Day; his first Valentine's Day with a date. He knows that there are plenty of things they can do inside to avoid the heavy downpour of rain, but he'd had a plan! He'd even told Steve not to worry about anything because he had everything sorted out. Now, he has nothing.

He'd spent the entire day yesterday making perfectly cut triangle sandwiches, chocolate dipped strawberries, and a heap more of Steve's favourite snacks for a picnic. He was going to spread his favourite blanket out right on the spot where they had their first kiss at skull rock and he was going to tell Steve he loved him. Because Valentine's day felt like the perfect time to say it. The words have been perched behind his lips for weeks, but he was afraid every moment he wanted to say it was too soon. So he's waited.

And now the day has been ruined by rain.

Steve doesn't seem to mind the rain. He knocks on the front door of the trailer and greets Eddie with a beaming smile even though he's saturated from head to toe. He's wearing that ridiculously bright yellow sweater and a pair of jeans that Eddie ripped at the knees for him; it's crazy how good he looks even though he's drenched.

Steve runs a hand through his wet hair to pull it off his forehead. Eddie wants to lean forward and plant a kiss on the exposed skin. "Are you going to let me in?" Steve laughs while wiping water out of his eyes.

"Shit, sorry, get in here." Eddie smacks a quick kiss to Steve's wet cheek before running off to get him a towel and a fresh change of clothes. He'll admit he loves any excuse to see Steve in his clothes. He ignores the pile of Steve's clothes in his cupboard and pulls out an old band shirt and shorts for Steve; seeing Steve's thighs will cheer him up.

Once Steve's all dry and bundled up in Eddie's clothes, they sit on the couch as close as possible and just bask in the joy that comes from being in each other's presence. If Steve notices the permanent pout on Eddies face, he doesn't mention it. He does, however, poke Eddie in the side and ask, "What's the basket for?" He nods towards the picnic basket he'd borrowed from Nancy that sits by the front door, all packed and ready to go nowhere because of the rain.

Eddie groans and buries his face in Steve's shoulder; he sighs and tries to drown himself in Steve's signature smell of cinnamon and apples. "I had such a stupidly romantic idea for a picnic date, but the rain has ruined it. I was gonna take you to the movies instead."

Steve rests his cheek against the top of Eddie's frizzy hair – the rain makes his hair have a mind of its own – and hums thoughtfully. "We can still have a picnic."

"I don't want soggy sandwiches and wet clothes." Eddie whines.

"You won't have any of that. Get up. Go grab your picnic blanket." Eddie has no idea what Steve has in mind, but he's not going to deny Steve on Valentine's Day. If Steve wants to go outside and eat food in the rain, then fuck it, he'll do just that to see his boy smile.

Eddie drags the old picnic blanket out of the bag he packed for their date, there's also other items in the bag that he puts back in his bedside drawer. Later, he tells himself. "OK, love, what now?" Eddie comes out of his room with the blanket wrapped around him but he stops just outside his doorway and watches with curious eyes as Steve rearranges the small lounge room. "What... are you doing?"

Steve stands in the middle of the lounge room and holds his arms out wide. "We're having a picnic, obviously." He steps into Eddie's space, plants a kiss to his lips and slowly unwraps the blanket. "I'm sorry we can't do it the way you originally planned, but this will still be fun. You set it up exactly how you want while I run out to the car to get your present. Sound good?"

Eddie wants to cry. He wants to kiss Steve's smiling face and thank him for being the best boyfriend in the world because Eddie hadn't even considered a picnic inside. He was fully intending to mope around and cuddle. Steve really is Eddie's better half. "Sounds great. Go get my present while the rain isn't torrential." He gives Steve's ass a cheeky smack before focusing on the task at hand.

Making the perfect indoor picnic.

Steve shuffles back into the trailer just as Eddie is spreading out all the food on the blanket and pouring them both a glass of wine – he doesn't even like wine, he just thinks it looks romantic. "You're just in time! Come sit – " He freezes when he sees the present wrapped up in Steve's arms. "Shup up. You did not."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Eddie."

Eddie doesn't even realise he's crying until Steve gently passes over the small bundled up present and places it in Eddie's arms. Steve sits down next to him on the picnic blanket and kisses away the happy tears that stain his cheeks. "I spoke to Wayne already. He said it's completely fine for the little guy to stay here. He's been having sleepovers at mine and Robin's for the past week."

Eddie smiles down at the black kitten in his arms and tries not to sob too loud in case he frightens the poor thing. He's always wanted a cat, and he's said as much to Steve, but to actually have one in his arms is overwhelming. He doesn't care that his picnic idea was changed, doesn't care that he's getting snot all over Steve's (his) shirt as he cries into his shoulder. "Thank you so much. He's perfect. You're perfect. I love you so much. I'm so happy."

Steve pulls away slightly, his eyes wide and his mouth open in surprise as he whispers, "You love me?" He's crying now and it's not exactly how Eddie expected his grand Valentine's Day plan to go but he wouldn't change it for the world.

Eddie places the kitten down in his lap and cups Steve's face in his hands. "Steve, I'm so in love with you it's disgusting. I made chocolate dipped strawberries! And cut watermelon into little hearts!" They're both laughing and crying now and Eddie wants nothing more than to freeze time and stay right here with Steve, he never wants to stop seeing that gorgeous smile.

"I love you."

Steve pulls him into a kiss, mindful of the kitten now exploring around their indoor picnic, and whispers against Eddie's lips, "I love you more."

#HAPPY LATE VALENTINE'S DAY I GUESS #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4 #WROTE THIS AT WORK SO IM NOT SUPER HAPPY WITH IT BUT ANYWAYS HERE U GO

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Six

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I can't believe it's already the halfway point for A Baker's Dozen, Pedro boy number six is waiting in the wings. But before I let him in I just want to say a massive thank you for all the love all you lovely people gave Ezra. It was a bit sadder than others but there always a chance of him re-appearing...

I'm dropping chapter today seeing as tomorrow is New Year's Eve, from next week I'll be back on my regular Sunday evening posting.

Also, don't miss all the #pickledpena fics that'll be posting on January 1st! And follow @pickled-pena to see them all in their pickled Peña glory.

Happy 2024 all you lovely people!

Series Master List

He puts out the cigarette just before he steps through your door on a quiet afternoon. You’re busy placing some fresh coffee cake in the display case and he’s the only customer in the shop. Crouched down, almost out of sight, it gives you a few seconds to observe him as he looks around the shop. He’s handsome, dangerously handsome, and holds himself with a nonchalant air of confidence that makes you think he’s aware of how good he looks. No man would wear jeans that tight if he didn’t know his body could pull it off, his generous package clearly framed by the crotch of the dark wash denim. A black, short sleeved, shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, one too many buttons undone, yellow aviators nonchalantly hanging from the neckline. And as you drag your eyes away from the freckles of his chest and up to his face, you’re met by his dark eyes, an almost scowl marring his handsome features as he locks eyes with you. 

You stand up, placing the now empty tray on the counter and put your customer service smile on, squashing a nervous squeal in your belly. 

“Hi, welcome, how can I help you?” you say, wiping your hands on your apron as the man approaches. 

“I’m lookin’ for a bakery that does Mexican things, I need a Tres Leches cake,” he says, his eyes leaving yours and scanning the shelves of your display case as you shake your head. His Texas drawl is subtle but the low register of his rich voice emphasizes it and sends a little shiver down your spine.  

“I’m afraid I don’t have any for sale today, but I can make one for you, if you’d like to order?” you reply and you’re surprised when his face seems to fall and he sighs deeply, annoyance rolling off him like the warm scent of his aftershave. 

“Do you know any Mexican bakeries in town?” he asks, “I’m sure yours is good, but I really need the cake today.” He puts his hands on his hips and you’re momentarily distracted by the way his shirt stretches, the buttons hanging on for dear life as his wide shoulders spread even more. 

“Sorry,” you reply, “there’s not exactly a big Mexican community in this town, so no bakeries that do Tres Leches regularly. Maybe you can find another cake that will suit the occasion?” 

The man drops his head, briefly looking at the toes of his dress shoes before he meets your eyes again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s got to be a Tres Leches, sorry.” 

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” you say, shrugging and expecting him to turn around and leave. But instead he remains in front of the counter, looking at you as you start straightening the cups on the counter, just to have something to do, the man’s intense gaze is unnerving.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, sharp enough for you to startle, and his eyebrows shoot up, “Sorry, that wasn’t at you. And thanks anyway.” 

He turns and yanks open the front door, exiting out onto the street where he stops, looking left and right before glancing back at you through the window. He locks eyes with you for a beat, and then he stalks off, long legs in tight jeans disappearing down the street. 

He stays on your mind for the rest of the afternoon, not because of the need for a specific cake, but because of the way he’d reacted to being denied it, disappointment that seemed to hit something more than just missing out on what, you supposed, was a special request from someone close to him. Women, especially brides-to-be, could be very emotional and stressed about the specifics of their cakes, but you’d never heard a man curse when he couldn’t get the cake he wanted. You wonder if you should maybe make a Tres Leches cake, just in case he comes back, but decide against it. There are plenty of bakeries in town capable of making them instead of you, he’s probably not even coming back to your bakery anyway. 

By the next day you’ve forgotten about him, the day running past fast as your shop assistant handles the steady flow of customers that Saturday’s always bring. You’re busy in the kitchen baking the last batches for Sunday and planning the week ahead, getting your orders in. As a spur of the moment decision, you add a couple of cans of evaporated milk and condensed milk, the Tres Leches man popping up in your mind as you scroll through the whole seller's website. . 

On late Sunday afternoon you start cleaning the shop and the kitchen, the foot traffic always dies down the last hour before closing on Sundays and you send your shop assistant home.You use the last hour to reset everything for Tuesday, Monday being your day off. 

The sound of the bell on the front door rings as you’re on your hands and knees in the kitchen, wiping out the back of a counter under your workbench.  “I’ll be out in a second,” you call out to the customer. 

“No rush,” a dark voice comes back to you, the Texan lilt familiar. You stand up so fast you almost bang your head on the bottom of the shelf, stumbling to your feet and smoothing down your apron and your hair. There’s a small mirror on the wall just by the door into the shop, so you give yourself a quick glance, hastily wiping the sweat off your forehead and rubbing away a dusting of flour on your cheek. 

“Hi,” you say as you step into the shop, “how can I help you? I’m afraid I still don’t have any Tres Leches cake.” 

The handsome man is still wearing jeans so tight they look painted on, but this time they’re a light wash denim and his short sleeved shirt is white, the yellow aviators hanging even lower in the deep V of his chest. 

“I wanted to apologize for that,” he says, stepping up to the counter, “And I’d like to order one, if that’s alright?” 

“Sure, that’s fine, I’m closed tomorrow but I could have it for you by Tuesday afternoon if that works?” 

“Whatever suits you,” he replies, some of his earlier confidence coming back as he not too subtly lets his eyes give you a once over. “I’m sure it’s worth waiting for.” 

“Didn’t seem like it on Friday,” you say, biting your tongue as the words slip out. The man gives you an unreadable look, you’re not sure if he's insulted or not. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “that was uncalled for, I’m sure you had stuff going on that made the cake an essential part of your Friday. 

“No, I apologize, I was rude,” he replies, shaking his head, “I was just having a bad day, I…” he trails off, rubbing a large hand over his clean shaven cheeks under his neat mustache, dropping his eyes to the floor before he looks up at you, his eyes suddenly doleful and tired, “I’ve just been a bit homesick lately, and Tres Leches was my mom’s favorite cake, and mine too, she used to make it for my birthday. She passed a few years ago and I just wanted to be reminded of her.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’d be very happy to make you one, but it probably won’t be as good as your mom’s.” 

“I look forward to trying it though,” he gives you a crooked smile, “All your stuff here looks delicious.” He waves his hand over the display case but he’s looking at you and your apron suddenly feels very warm around your body. 

“S-so Tuesday afternoon works for you?” you ask, clearing your throat and the man nods with a smile, like he knows the effects his looks, and his tight jeans, are having on you.

“What name should I put on the order form?” you ask as you grab a pen to fill it in.

“Javier Peña,” the man replies, stepping forward and leaning on his forearms on the counter, watching you note down his name, “I think you should write down my number too,” he says, looking up at you, “just in case you need to call me, for whatever reason.” 

The image of a baby cow looking up at you through thick lashes flits across your mind as he smiles, his eyes are deep brown and suddenly very innocent looking despite the very suggestive tone of his voice. 

“Oh you’re good,” you chuckle, letting him take the pen and jot down his number, “Do you really want the cake, or are you just flirting?” 

“Can’t I do both, cariño?” he grins, pushing off from the counter and winking at you as he comes to his full height, making you look up at him again. 

“Sure, but you’re only getting the cake,” you smile back at him and now it’s his turn to chuckle, a dimple on his cheek as he regards you with a playful look. 

“I’ll be happy with just the cake, but I’ll keep hoping,” he replies, still grinning as he pats down his jeans, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, “What do I owe you?” 

“Pay on delivery,” you say and he arches one of his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. 

“So that’s how I get you to use my number, will you chase me down if I don’t turn up on Tuesday?” 

“Something tells me you’re used to women chasing you down,” you say, trying to keep your heartbeat under control as he cocks his head, another arched eyebrow, “so I should probably just play it cool and count on your turning up for the cake.” 

“When do you close up on Tuesday?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up, as he puts away his wallet. 

“Seven, but the cake will be done before then,” you reply and he nods. 

“I’ll be here before seven,” he says, “you can count on it, cariño.” He winks at you again and you curse the butterflies that immediately take flight in your belly. 

He gives you a wave as he takes a nonchalant step back towards the door before turning, his tight jeans giving you a perfect view of his tiny butt, you’ve really never seen any guy wear jeans that tight and you can’t help but let your eyes linger. 

‘Really…’ you think to yourself, ‘how does he even walk down the stairs in those jeans?’ 

A Tres Leches gets better the longer it can sit in the fridge and absorb all the liquid that’s poured over it, so you get started as soon as Javier leaves. By the time you’ve cleaned up the kitchen and done your usual Sunday night prep, the sponge cake is cooling on the counter. 

Ordinarily you wouldn’t come in on your day off but the Tres Leches needs three types of milk poured over it, so at lunchtime on Monday you stick your key in the lock and turn off the alarm to the shop. 

“Hey, I thought you weren’t open today?” a deep voice says behind your back just as you punch in the code. 

“Oh shit!” you shriek and spin around, your hand on your heart, as Javier’s hands come out to steady you. 

“So jumpy, cariño,” he chuckles, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re sneaky, jeez,” you gasp, hitting the off button on the alarm that’s still beeping, “please, give a girl a warning before you jump out like that.” 

He follows you into the shop, apologizing again as you flick the lights on. 

“I’m sorry, I was just on my way to grab some lunch and I saw you open up the shop, I wanted to say hi and thank you for making the cake,” he smiles and you feel his hand come out and gently brush over the small of your back as you walk past him into the kitchen. The warmth of his hand makes you stutter, trying to keep your cool at his proximity. 

“T-that’s fine, but the cake isn’t done yet,” you say, “and the shop isn’t open, I’m just here to pour the milk mixture on it.” 

“You should’ve told me to pick it up on Wednesday instead, I don’t want to make you work on your day off,” Javier says, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen as you open the fridge and take out the cake. 

“It’s fine, this is quick, I’ll be done in ten minutes, then I’m leaving again,” you say as he watches you with those dark eyes, they follow you around the kitchen as you take out a pan and the three types of milk needed. 

“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asks, crossing his arms and the blue shirt stretches tight across his shoulders. You can’t help but glance at the way it hugs his biceps and he notices, his body settling into the pose a little bit more, thick fingers drumming against the taught fabric over his arm as he smiles at you. 

“Yeah, I have a date at the fair,” you say, pouring the milk into the pan and turning on the heat, from the corner of your eye you see him shift and straighten up a little. 

“A date huh…” he says, “Your boyfriend?” 

“No, just a blind date, a friend set us up,” you reply, stirring the condensed milk into the regular milk. 

“Ok, I hope you have a nice time then,” Javier says, his brow furrowed, standing up and thumping his fist lightly on the doorframe, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’ll come by for the cake tomorrow, have a nice afternoon.” He abruptly turns and you hear his footsteps retreat through the shop before you have a chance to say goodbye, leaving you surprised at his sudden departure. After finishing the cake and cleaning up the kitchen again, you leave the shop and lock up. Javier’s sudden departure still seems strange to you, you don’t know him at all, but he’d suddenly seemed offended by your date, even jealous. He’s a flirt, and you couldn’t help flirting back a little, but you really don’t think he’d be jealous of your blind date. Would he be?   

The next day you’re not sure if he’ll come for his cake after all, but you are hoping he will. The blind date had been a miserable affair and you bowed out after suffering through a painful hour of stilted small talk about small business taxes. Javier’s crooked grin and tight jeans had been on your mind throughout the afternoon as your date droned on.. 

Towards the end of the day you take the cake out and cover it in whipped cream and decorate it with fresh strawberries. And thankfully, a few minutes before seven the doorbell jangles and you look up to see Javier walk through the door, giving your heart a little jolt of excitement. But although he’s not exactly scowling, the yellow aviators cover his eyes and the corners of his mouth are downturned under the edges of his neat mustache. It’s a stark contrast to the bright pink shirt he’s wearing today, the color clashing with the apparent mood he’s in. 

“Hi Javier,” you say, giving him what you hope is your flirtiest look, wanting to coax him back to the flirtiness he’d displayed on previous visits, “I guess I won’t need your number after all,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you watch his lips quirk up in response. 

“Maybe you should hang on to it, in case that new boyfriend doesn’t work out,” he smirks, coming up to the counter and leaning on the display case, long legs in tight jeans casually crossed as he gives you an appreciative glance up and down. You’d removed your apron a little bit earlier, changed into a nicer top, fixed your hair, only stopping yourself as you considered adding lipstick. 

“No, that was a bad date,” you scrunch up your nose at him, “I had to make up an excuse after an hour.” 

“Too bad,” he says but his crooked grin leaves you in no doubt about the fact that he’s very much not sorry about the failed date, “You should’ve let me take you out instead, I would’ve made sure you didn’t need any excuse to leave.” He gives you a quick wink, taking off his aviators, and you feel your cheeks heat up as he smirks and swipes a thumb over his bottom lip. 

“About that cake, querida?” 

The casual pet name ramps up the heat in your cheeks another notch and you’re grateful for the chance to turn around and head for the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure, let me get it,” you throw over your shoulder and yank the fridge door open, carefully sliding the cake box out. 

“Here, I boxed it for you, but have a look, make sure it’s what you wanted,” you say, putting the box in front of him as you get back to the counter 

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” he replies, but he still slips the paper lip from its hold and flips up the lid. He looks down at it for a beat and the casual confidence slips from his face, replaced by something you can’t place, almost as if he suddenly disappears from the shop, finding himself in another setting, looking at another cake. 

“Is…is it as you expected?” you ask timidly when he doesn’t move, his eyes still on the cake, and he blinks and looks up at you, his eyes soft and warm.

“It’s perfect, just perfect, thank you,” he replies, his tone suddenly sincere and raw in a way you didn’t expect, it’s just a cake. But he looks down at the cake again and there’s a play of emotions across his face, as if the thoughts in his head are dancing across his features in the space of a few heart beats. You let him have his moment and carefully start tidying up the counter around the till and turn to start cleaning the espresso machine when he clears his throat. 

“This is…uhmm…” he trails off and you look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on the cake but as he rubs a large hand over his jaw he looks up at you, “Do you wanna have a coffee with me? And some cake?” 

“You wanna cut the cake now?” you ask surprised, you thought it was for a special occasion but he nods. 

“Yeah, as a thank you for going out of your way to make it, coming in on your day off and everything,” he gives you a nod towards the coffee machine and grabs a couple of plates from the counter, “Although I should really be serving you but that coffee machine looks pretty advanced.” 

“I’d love to have coffee and cake with you, Javier. But are you sure you want to cut it now? I thought it was for something special?” 

“It was, or it is,” he says, coming round the counter with the cake and putting it next to you. “My mom used to make it for me and on Friday it was ten years ago since she passed….” 

He pauses and adjusts the cake with one hand, the other hooked into the pocket of his jeans, fingers drumming against his leg as you wait for him to continue. 

“I was feelin’ kinda homesick, wanted something to remind me of her,” he clears his throat, looking up at you again as you put down the cloth you’ve been wiping the machine with. His mood on Friday makes sense now, but you never would’ve you have guessed the reason behind it, and you push down the urge to put your hand on his arm. But he seems to shake out of his reverie and he gives you a crooked smile. 

“So how about that coffee, cariño?” 

“Sure,” you smile back at him and you see his eyes soften again, “How do you take it?” 

“Strong and black,” he replies, “Show me where you keep the knives and I’ll get us some cake, at least I can serve you that.” 

You show him and he gives a low hum when he slides the first slice onto a plate, “It smells just like I remember.” 

“Good, I hope the taste reminds you of her too,” you smile. It feels like he’s a different person now, still confident and flirty, and dangerously handsome, but you’re seeing a more human side, something underneath his winks and smirks as you watch him expertly wipe the knife and cut another clean edged slice and slide it onto the plate. 

“If you ever need a part time job, let me know, with those cake skills I’d let you serve my customers,” you remark, jumping up onto the counter next to where Javier’s standing. 

He snorts at your comment, picking up one of the plates and hands it to you, “Trust me, cariño, you don’t want me anywhere near your customers.” 

“No, true, those tight jeans might be a bit distracting for female guests,” you say, “I’d never get anything sold.” 

You bite your tongue, trying to stop your giggle, as you see his eyes widen, the spoon hoovering in the air over his cake slice as he tries to process your words.

“Really, cariño,” he says eventually, shaking his head as he pushes the spoon into the cake, “I didn’t think you minded them, considering the way you’ve been staring at my ass,” he gives you a wink as he puts the spoon in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, I know how distracting they are,” you laugh, “It’s a good thing you left yesterday, I would’ve messed up the cake if you’d kept hanging around my kitchen in those jeans.” 

Javier hums, distracted by the cake as he looks down on it, waving his spoon at it as he chews and swallows. 

“This is delicious, cariño, just as good as my moms, it tastes just like hers.” 

“Thanks, that’s the best compliment I could get,” you smile at him, taking a mouthful of the cake for yourself as Javier reaches for the cup of coffee you’ve placed next to him. 

“Mhm…” he grunts, “strong coffee and Tres Leches, best thing I’ve had in a long time, hermosa.” 

He smiles at you over the edge of the cup, his chocolate brown eyes making you feel flustered as he keeps eye contact when he’s put the cup down. 

“Relly, the best I’ve had in a very long time…” he says, “and the best company I’ve had in a long time too. Tell me, would I really distract you that much in the kitchen?” He takes another spoonful of cake and keeps his eyes on you, staring you down as he cocks his hip and leans on the counter, suddenly very close, making your nerves thrum just under your skin. You can smell the cake on his breath, the coffee from the cup on the counter and his faded aftershave, still lingering on the collar of his pink shirt. 

“You…I-I think you know what you do with those tight jeans, Javier,” you reply and his lips quirk up in response, the corner of his mustache twitching as his eyes move down to your lips and linger there. 

“Why don’t you tell me, cariño?” he smirks, “What do my tight jeans do?” 

You almost roll your eyes at him, the confidence is oozing off him but you can’t deny that he can back it up as he parts his soft looking lips and moves around your legs, stepping in between them, trapping you up on the counter. Your breath hitches as he looks up at you again, his eyes leaving your lips as the tip of his tongue comes out and lightly wets his own. 

Quietly inhaling, you decide attack is the best tactic, and reach out, putting your hand around the back of Javier’s head. 

“Are you going to talk about your jeans or kiss me, Javier?” you ask, and you just have time to see the glint in his eyes, before he leans forward. 

His hand comes up and grabs your jaw, cupping your cheek as his thumb moves across your lips, holding it for a beat before he’s on you. His lips are as soft as they look, molding to your mouth, gently probing to let him in. Your hand tangles into the thick hair at the back of his head, holding on as he pushes forward, widening your legs around his hips, pressed against the cupboard. With a low moan you part your lips to his tongue and he responds, a groan, as he wraps his free arm around your waist, his hand finding your hip and pulling you towards him. The jeans do nothing to hide his growing arousal as you slide right up against his crotch, his kisses are soft but the way he holds you tight, is heated. 

You hook your hand into his belt loop and tug him closer, feeling him roll his hips against you as the taste of the cake and his strong coffee overpowers your senses, his tongue sliding around yours. He’s exploring, his large hand sliding over your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin and finding spots that make you moan and tremble under his touch. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that a gentle nip on your lower lip makes you arch your back and press into him. He makes the most of it as his hand slides up to splay flat over your shoulder blades, holding you close as he continues to explore your mouth.. 

Heat is making your core ache, he’s hard against you, the texture of the denim rubbing against you with each lazy roll of his hips and you have to pant into his mouth, pulling back from him to catch your breath. 

Javier kisses the corner of your mouth as you tip your head back with a groan, drawing a deep breath, and then moves over your jaw, his teeth scraping over your skin, his tongue coming out to taste and lick as he trails kisses down to your neck. When he sinks his teeth into the flesh just under your ear you whimper and grip hard at his hair, hearing him groan against you. He places a wet kiss on the mark his teeth have left and straightens up, looking down at you with half closed eyes. 

“I fucking hated that blind date guy,” Javier growls, still standing close enough for you to feel every twitch of his hard length between your legs, “I should’ve told you to ditch him and asked you to come out with me instead.” 

“I would’ve ditched him, Javier,” you reply, letting your fingers trail over his five o’clock shadow and brush the edge of his mustache.

“So let me take you out tonight instead, finish what we started, cariño.” 

His hands are distracting, one rubbing firm circles over your back, down to your hips, kneading the soft flesh. The other one still on your neck, caressing your cheek, your hair, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. 

“I have to get up at three am, Javier,” you whisper, his lips finding yours again and you lose your train of thought. 

“Rain check,” he mumbles against your mouth, “What are you doing on Sunday night? You don’t work on Mondays.” 

“There’s this guy,” you reply, smiling as he pulls back a fraction to look down at you, one eyebrow raised, “He wears these really tight jeans and I think I should find out if he’s got the goods to back them up”.

“Oh he does,” Javier growls, tugging you closer and making you open your mouth to his eager tongue, pulling a breathless moan from you as he wraps his arms around you again.  

Part Seven

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

#javier pena #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #javier pena fluff #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

Hi baby!!

Mice been thinking abt Peter Fucking you in a library lately..

Give me thoughts??

i have plenty!

STUDY BUDDY- P.B PARKER

Pairing:  Uni! Nerd! Boyfriend! Peter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 885

Summary: some innocent studying with your nerdy boyfriend leads to a quick hookup in the library :)

Warnings: SMUT, finger sucking, praise kink, voyeurism, sight degradation kink, swearing, teasing, dumbification kink, lots of pet names, and a special guest!

blue shirt look bc its my favourite and it makes me need himsobad

“I-I really gotta get back to my work Pete-” you gasped, the harsh pinch of your teeth biting down to meet your lower lip reminding you to keep your voice hushed.

The dark mahogany dug into your palms as you gripped the shelf, cracked spines and weathered pages meeting your gaze before you shut your eyes. It smelt of old books and Peter, his arms caging you in, leaving you nowhere to go but with him.

It had been smooth sailing for over an hour, the two of you nestling in together at a little table in the back of the old, quaint library. Surrounded by nothing but old wooden shelves and golden yellow oil lamps, it was a little haven for the two of you to get caught up on overdue assignments.

His work was a mystery to you- all the letters and numbers blurring together as he scratched away equations on the paper, fidgeting as he adjusted his glasses and rolled up his sleeves.

Books were pushed to the side after some time, his hand finding its way to your thigh, smirking as you slid your legs over his thigh to let your feet kick and dangle.

There was no point trying to focus anymore. You were entranced by him, lost in the idea of him- head in the clouds as you felt his fingers trace little outline drawings on your bare thigh, still focusing on his work.

From there, it was a mystery. He had you trapped, stuck between him as you felt the prominent bulge from his jeans slide against your skirt, making you shiver.

“Were you ever really doing any work in the first place? Or just twirling your hair and batting me those eyes so I’d get distracted?”

“I don't know what you're talking about…” you trailed off softly, breath caught in your throat as his soft lips met your neck- teasing you.

“Mmm don’t be so silly now sweetheart. You’re my smart girl, aren't you?”

You nodded. He smirked. It was as simple as that with you, hanging off his every word. “So don’t act stupid. I taught you better than that, ya know.” he quipped, in his charming, boyish ways- hand slipping down towards your skirt.

“We shouldn't do that here!” you huffed as his fingers traced those same little patterns he was on your skin earlier on your dampening panties.

“Oh baby when has that ever stopped you before? I thought you liked this hm? You wanna show everyone what a good lil girl you are?”

“We can’t-”

“Or are you too shy?” he continued, his belt jangling as he unbuckled it, seeming to echo off each pane of stained glass. “I know you're shy but not that shy baby. We’ve done it soo many times when you've been a little slut it public- haven't we? In my car, in the empty classroom or mmm the bathroom at your family gathering?”

You whimpered in response, words failing you. Your head fell limp as his chest was flush with your back, trapping you against the bookcase- bookspines nearly digging into your cheek.

“Shh you're fine. You want my fingers?” he asked softly, his low voice soothing you as he slowly slipped two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue before he slid himself in.

Your eyes widened as he moaned, slowly brushing against your insides- savouring how pure you felt around him. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck-” he chanted like a prayer, and you sucked harder on his fingers to stifle the noises you so desperately wanted to release.

Drool began to pool from your lips, coating the long digits as your eyes rolled, his dick fully inside you, panties somewhere down your thighs. You hoped it was empty in here. Because the idea of someone walking in on this made your head spin.

“Mhmm-” you gagged as he slowly slipped out of you, pumping back in with such force you thought you’d topple over if it wasn't for him holding you upright.

“This is your fault ya know. If you weren't such a damn tease…” he murmured softly, making you shake your head.

“Yes, yes it is. We could’ve been studying angelface, and because youre such a precious lil slut- we’re in this mess hm?” he sighed, breathing in the smell of your sweet, saccharine perfume that mixed with his cologne, the smell of him on you driving him wild.

Before you knew it, the book in front of you had slid off the shelf- and you saw fingers grab the book across from it to clear a direct pathway for a face you knew all too well.

A smirk was plastered across his face, eyebrows raising as you heard the air whoosh through his nostrils as he breathed you in.

“Well ain't this somethin else?” a low voice whistled.

“She’s shy Matty don’t scare her.” Peter replied, cocky as ever as he watched his best friend unfold you like a present- but knew deep down he could never have it. He was dangling bait in front of him.

“M-Matt?” you croaked out softly, stuttering as Peter continued to use you, fingers slipping out of your mouth.

“What’d ya doin there love?” he cooed.

“Studyin-” you choked out, making Peter laugh. “Oh she’s studyin alright.”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker spiderman #peter parker smut #spiderman #spiderman smut #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm spiderman #tasm fic #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #andrew!peter imagine #andrew!peter smut #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter fanfiction #andrew!spiderman #andrew garfield #tasm andrew garfield #andrew spiderman #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm peter parker #the amazing spider man

[inkskinned]

he tells me i'm jaded. he says - you love showers so much, why not stand in a rainstorm instead?

rainstorms have a potential to take down tree branches. they're unregulated. they get my clothes wet. in the time of my grandparents, maybe it would be more romantic. it's a drought where i live. the rain that comes down is sullen, yellow with pollution. i bite half my nails off reading about climate predictions. i stand in the shower and shift from one foot to the other, feeling annoyed with myself because i care about all of this, of course, but as a climate scientist i'm functionally useless.

he says - the color is all gone from the world! people used to like bright things. what happened to all of us?

i feel like rich people love minimalism differently. they like to remind others - i don't really need things. they can afford to have-less. they don't need to worry about buying extra; they can just get it later.

my car is silver so in 5 years after paying back the loan i might be able to sell it, if i don't hurt it too bad and if i don't drive it too hard, and if luck is in my corner. it's just a simple sedan, nothing-special. i guess i'm technically borrowing it from the bank. i can't really-decorate my apartment; i don't own it. i am not going to be able to afford a house any time soon. i would love to make my walls a wash of bright color - but i'd lose my deposit.

my clothes are all in neutrals; classic cuts that have very little fuss or personality attached to them. i worry about fast fashion and my finances; i want to be sure that i can wear the shirt in the future without feeling stupid and out-of-touch. the other day i finally tore through a pair of shorts i've had for about ten years now. i went home and tried to figure out how to repurpose the denim. how to make everything last a little longer. i sometimes will try on something trendy and cool and colorful - and then i pick out something i know will last me a long time instead. muted, conservative, unimpressive.

he says - the real world is waiting! everyone is so obsessed with their phones these days. go outside, connect with your friends!

it costs twenty dollars to go on the guided tour. they don't let you into the conservatory without a 320 dollar yearly membership. i come up with a spreadsheet, trying to figure out where my friends have schedule openings that overlap with mine. we both frown over our calendars - can't do thursday that week, anything in two weeks? there's no train, it costs forty dollars in transportation for her to come over; but i miss her, so i venmo her. we both bemoan the fact that there's just no way to get around without a car.

i am actually a full-blooded romantic. i am actually someone who truly and deeply believes in hope and the future of humanity. i am a poet, after all - i write because i believe someone out there, like me, is watching the world crumble while nursing a broken heart. i believe that most of us want to be kind, to be good, to turn our cheeks to the sky and be contented and warm.

it just feels like - there's this strange, brewing storm. where people with money and power and prestige get to say - hope is a yacht, just hop on and go.

and all us jaded, horrible little still-here tear-stained cockroaches, who croak and complain about global injustice: we don't accept it. we make our lives beautiful with whatever we can wrestle out of stone. we clutch our diaries and our sunflowers and our songs to our chest. ugly and hurting, we snarl - hope isn't yours though. it's ours.

it's all we have left.

#does this make even a lick of sense. #this is like . #optimistic pessimism idek #warm up

[the-kr8tor]

haii !! for your fluffy friday:

hobie brown x reader and reader got one of those american girl doll baby dolls (i forgot what theyre called) so hobie and reader can take care of it like its a real baby 🤗

Hi, angel! Thank you for your request, hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Reader is pregnant, Fluff.

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You and Hobie wave goodbye to Mayday, she pouts in her dad's arms, not ready to go home yet. Baby blues tearing up, her lip wobbles. Peter tries to console his daughter. The portal swirls in your living room, bathing it in a yellow glow. You cringe at how your stuff will fall harshly on the floors once it closes.

"You'll see them again, don't you miss mama?" He bounces her in his arms. Mayday only frowns more at her father's question, emotions running high.

"Mm-hmm, I'm sure your mommy misses you a lot, Mayday" you coo at the toddler, cradling your baby bump. You're about to burst any day now.

Hobie hands Peter Mayday's baby bag, "yeah, we'll just be here waiting for you" he ducks down to meet Mayday's teary eyes, shaking her tiny hands, trying to bring comfort. You grin at the interaction, hormones making you tear up.

"Thanks guys, I really need to get her home before she throws a tantrum. See ya!" Peter makes Mayday wave her hand by using his own. "Say bye bye, Mayday! Hit me up if you need any help, okay?" she finally wails as her dad steps inside the portal. Her cries get cut off by the portal closing.

"Oof glad I'm not Peter right now" you huff, turning around to look for Hobie, "Hobie?"

He crouches down to pick up a baby doll left on the floor. Shaking it in his grip, "D'you think she was crying because of this?"

"I don't think so, she barely played with it" you shrug, wobbling to him, taking the doll in his hands. Still accustomed to taking care of an actual baby, you cradle the toy like it's alive. "We can give it back to Pete next time they visit"

Hobie cracks an endearing smile, he's seen you hold Mayday before with the same enthusiasm but something about you carrying a smaller baby albeit a toy one unlocks something in his mind. He's absolutely excited to have the little one in your arms.

"You look really fit right now" Hobie eyes you up and down, whistling. You make pregnancy look good.

You roll your eyes, "what?" Not believing the words he uttered "my shirt is covered in baby food," you sniff at your collar. "Yep, mango baby food. And I haven't washed my hair in days"

Hobie leads you in his arms by your elbow, holding you close, the baby doll right in the middle of your cuddling, stomach making it hard to embrace him properly.

You suddenly realize what he really meant, knowing him well. Basically reading his mind when he lays his head on your shoulder, tired from chasing around Mayday all over the flat; hand rubbing soft circles over your tummy. The other kneads at the small of your back, massaging the aching muscle.

He's been so supportive the entire pregnancy, even with all your weird cravings and hormone induced mood swings, Hobie was always there to help ease the burden off of you. You've seen him get more and more excited everyday, bouncing all over the flat to get it ready for the baby.

"Yeah? I look good?" Bouncing the toy in your arms, you smirk at Hobie.

"Mm-hmm," Hobie peppers your face with sticky kisses leaving you all giggly and smiley. "So" kiss "bloody" kiss "good"

"Okay" laughing in between "calm down this is the reason why I'm pregnant" instead of pulling away, you encourage him by leaving your own kisses on his cheeks.

After a moment of you attacking his face with your lips, you finally pull away, scrunching your nose endearingly at Hobie with a lopsided grin. His hand never leaves your bump.

"Maybe we should keep this for a few days, might be good for practice" He holds the doll by its foot jokingly. You know he's prepared enough to know how to hold a baby properly.

You chuckle, "not a good start, babe" taking the doll with care, cradling its head, you indulge him.

"I haven't got that swaddling thing down"

"Come on then, let's practice" leading him to the bedroom by his hand with a tired but happy smile.

Reblog banner by @/cafekitsune

#request done #fluffy friday #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #spider punk #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #atsv fluff #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #spider punk x you #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fluff #fanfic

[kachowder]

It's almost valentine's day and I'm a sucker for valentine's day cliches in anime. So, how would each of your boys react if they see their darling giving everyone they know chocolates (it's obligatory, but they don't know that) and they didn't get one? Only for darling to give them a special chocolate of their own at the end of the day.

Fantastic ask. Wonderful. This will be a two part series cuz I have more ocs than I first thought <3

Valentines Special <3 part 1

(Characters Chata, Apis, Alan, Cameron)

Tw: Suggestive Themes, Toxic Jealousy.

———————

Chata (yandere Spider Lizard Demon)

Chata believes he’s fairly good at hiding his own feelings at times

Mostly due to the alcohol

But this would sting a bit.

Yellow eyes watched as you chattered around the bar. Handing sweets bags wrapped with pretty pink bows to your various coworkers and regular customers.

You wore a cute pink themed getup that suited you in a doll like way. You seemed to like this particular holiday quite a lot.

In the past chata felt the same really. It was scoring season, what with all the heartbreak that happened on this lovely day.

But he couldn’t find himself to humor the broken hearted individuals of the bar. Not when he was watching you warmly pass along chocolates to everyone but him.

Letting them hug you, and hold you, and feel the warmth that so soothingly kissed his scales.

It was insulting. He didn’t like being attached but he thought you liked him. At least a little. You were his favorite person. But he supposed he shouldn’t have assumed that he was yours.

That acknowledgment made him feel colder than usual. The quils on his spine raising and rattling threateningly, warding off any hot shots from sitting next to the aggravated beast.

Finding himself lost in his own irritation, he failed to notice the sound of feet walking over to him, before a sweets box, in the shape of a flame slid into his view on the counter.

His quils shot down, flat against his back as his eyes snapped to you.

A lecherous grin curled onto his face. Tongue lapping at the sudden drool that began to drip from his jaw.

You smelled awfully sweet today.

“Oh? This for me doll~?”

As if he was never upset in the first place, two sets of arms curled around your figure and smother you to his chest, easily lifting you as he stood from his bar stool and began marching up the stairs of the bar, into the staff room.

“You shouldn’t have~ I guess I should give you your valentines gift now huh?<3”

He didn’t acknowledge your muffled complaints about you still being on the clock as the door slammed shut.

Cameron (Yandere Therapist)

This is borderline devastating.

You had invited Cameron, your therapist, who you had been having regular hang outs with outside of sessions to a dinner party at your college campus with the school faculty. As your plus one.

Cameron was thrilled, naturally. Any chance to observe you in a non threatening and social environment was like being handed a bucket of gold.

Plus, it was like he was your date. Especially with the matching red outfits you both wore

He made sure to keep his shirt unbuttoned just enough to keep your imagination roaming.

Though his joy didn’t last long when he started watching you hand out goody bags to your colleagues.

While he remained glued to your side, arm respectfully linked with yours, his smile grew tighter with each group he greeted, before it fell completely at the sight of you gifting a bag to your ex. Of all people.

You’d mentioned them once in passing, having nothing but good things to say and even mentioning that it was mutual break up.

Cameron didn’t care though. No one in their right mind would ever willingly let you go. Not truly anyway. And he felt satisfied and deeply angered when his thoughts were confirmed as he watched the way your ex softly blushed while speaking you.

The arm that was intertwined with yours snaked it’s way subtly around your waist, Cameron leaning slightly into you as if to play off being tired, though he relished in your sweet stutter and your exes furrowed brows.

When they finally parted from you, Cameron gently pulled you in the direction of an empty table, sitting you down gently while pushing your chair in before taking a seat of his own.

He shuddered and flushed deeply when he caught your eyes peak down his shirt.

Did you see what he was wearing underneath? God he hoped you did.

Though, not one to let his excitement show in such a public setting, Cameron cleared his throat before bringing your attention to a small velvet covered box.

You gasped softly at the sight and Cameron couldn’t help but to smile as he removed his glasses.

“Happy Valentines Day Darling. Consider this a small anniversary gift since the start of our sessions. You’ve grown beautifully”

With careful hands you opened the pretty box, gasping loudly this time at the sight of a pretty rose gold necklace with your name engraved on a cute heart lock charm.

“Oh Cameron..you shouldn’t have”

Cameron gently pushed back a stray hair from your warm cheeks before humming softly when you took his hand and gently kissed his knuckles, whispering a soft thank you that had his heart thudding violently in his chest.

He was sure he looked like a blushing fool when you presented a a box, much like his own though in a satin red, and popped it open to reveal a necklace of his own, with a sweet little pair of angels wings attached

“ I feel a little less embarrassed giving this to you now. Consider it a thank you. For taking care of me and helping me with my problems.”

The darling smile you sent to him lit his skin on fire, and he couldn’t help himself but to return the kiss to your beautiful hands, though his own lingered a little longer.

“Of course darling. I’d do anything you asked of me.”

Suck it Ex.

Alan (Mean Inter-dimensional Yandere)

Alan hated Valentine’s Day. As he hated most days.

He was already on the stingier side, so a holiday where you spent money on someone else, to show your “love” for them, really wasn’t his forte.

Though, the idea of giving you, the shy one specifically, a box of chocolates, or better yet, a stuffed animal, was deathly appealing.

He could practically see your cute face twisting in embarrassment and excitement. The way your hands would carefully but shakily hold his gift to your chest, and the way your pretty eyes would stare up at him. And the feeling of your cute sweet lips pressing against his-

“Gee, thanks kid. I didn’t think I’d be getting chocolates today. I appreciate it though.”

“Yeah- uhm. No problem. Just a thank you gift. And stuff.”

What the fuck.

Alan practically felt himself boiling when he turned to watch you chatting with his boss of all people. Giving him a box of chocolates.

Where the fuck were your loyalties huh?

I mean yeah sure Alan wasn’t the most approachable or the nices guy in the world, but give his boss chocolates, and not himself?

He didn’t think you had that in you.

And he would’ve found it hot, had it been anyway but him on the short end of the stick.

So while he mulled in his own fizzling jealousy, not that he’d call it that, he nearly growled when you came tiptoeing over, a lunch box wrapped gently in a red checkered cloth clutched in your hands.

“Uhm…Alan?”

“What do you want?” He didn’t really mean to snap, and yeah he felt bad when your shoulders cowered a little, but he had to admit he impressed that you hadn’t burst in to tears and immediately run off at his dismissive tone.

He was relieved.

Alan watched with narrowed eyes as you set the lunch box on his desk.

He eyed it, then you, then it again, before finally setting it back on you and opening the box. Revealing a set of 6 sweet smelling cookies. Homemade.

“What is this?”

You winced slightly, fingers clenching and unclenching nervously before you took a deep breath.

“Thank you for taking care of me and being nice to me even though I know you don’t like me that much but I still appreciate you looking out for me happy Valentine’s Day- bye!”

Wide eyed watched in shock and awe as you immediately scurried out of the clinic. Into the closet.

A deep chuckle filled the room.

“Never thought I’d see you blushin mate.”

Alan’s eyes snapped over to the overgrown lizard demon, and the other you who eyed him curiously.

He scowled slightly. That meant you were gone.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear anything from a walking disease.” He sneered at the two of you, and the other you scowled before marching off down the corridor, mumbling a small rude in his direction while chata laughed it off.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad.

Apis (yandere Bull Demon)

Apis was already a lot of work to deal with on most days.

While he was helpful, he was also the most clingy being you’d ever come across.

It was hard to concentrate when there was a 7ft bull pressed against your back and sending various messages to your head via his weird, telepathy.

It was even harder when, today, Valentine’s Day, Apis seemed to be 100x clingier.

There was a permeant flush that slapped itself across his bull like features, and with every step the demon was practically tripping you with how close he was.

His tail flicked back and forth almost agitatedly.

“Look buddy I don’t know what you want right now. Can’t you just tell me?”

There was a deep whine that rumbled through the demons chest before he pressed himself further into, shoving you onto the couch and placing himself in your much smaller lap.

Your face was practically being suffocated in his obscenely large chest and the bull demon seemed to purr at that fact, especially with the way he shifted himself a bit.

“Apis! I don’t know what you want dude!”

A sudden growl poked through the moody beast, before several images struck through your head.

Roses, chocolates, hearts, arrows.

Ah.

“Oh. It’s Valentine’s Day isn’t it?”

The demon mooed in response, pressing himself even further into you, though mindful enough to make sure you could still breathe.

You sighed tiredly, before reaching your arm under one of the throw pillows and pulling out a box of chocolates.

“Here you go. I was gonna get you the same ones I gave all my coworkers yesterday but these were on sale. Plus you’ve been good lately so I-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before you were suddenly lifted off the couch, the chocolates cluttering to the floor before you were swept and up and the sound of thundering hooves filled the room.

“Whoa buddy hey wait- whyre we going to the bedroom- Apis no! Put me down! Bad!”

The Blissful bull ignored you, humming happily once he tossed you to the bed and slammed the door shut.

You could already see the by product of his excitement.

“Don’t worry Y/n. I’ll take good care of you <3”

Your jaw dropped.

“YOU CAN FUCKEN TALK??”

#yandere #yandere x reader #x oc #demon x reader #x reader #monster #monster x reader #yandere therapist #yandere teratophilia #Cameron oc #chata oc #Apis oc #Alan oc