#I wanna eat your chaos

[monochromatic-ahhhh]

THE CROSSOVER IS IN THE WATCH FIC, AND I MEANT THAT THE FIC IS UPDATED

WHAT I JUST LOGGED OFF HOLD ON

OMG ITS THE CROSSOVER ITS THE ITS THE THE THING ITS HERE OMG DHAOZGSKBAHDBD I READ IT I WAS JUST GOING "OOF" THE WHOLE TIME

#nOT ANNE THINKING OF HARPY THOUGHTS #AAAAA THE CONFUSION WITH BLOOD AND WINE AND THE SPELL I LIKE THAT #ARE THERE HYPERLINKS?? WOAH THATS COOL #OOF OOF SAFE TO EAT. ANNE BECOMING ACCUSTOMED TO EATING BUGS ;-; #tHE DRESS WJAHSHS #oNE SHOED ANNE #oof...besties.. #lUMITY CRUMBS #'YOU GET A BLUSH! AND YOU GET A BLUSH!' #wAIT IS EDA MAD ON BEHALF OF SPRIG AND ANNE GETTING CURSED???? AWWWWWW #yES POLLY AND KING CHAOS PALS #wE'RE NOT THE SAME DE- arrow. arrow. arrow turn on your location i just wanna talk. #oOOF HORRIFYING AUTHORITY FIGURE #OOF THE W I N K #'Guess fathers arent the only thing to be jealous about' ARROW. #I- THEY HAVE PICTURES 🥺🥺 #OOF THE WALLET REVEAL WIQGQOQHQJA #I FORGOT AMITY WAS IN THE CROSSOVER OMGBAIQNASHHS #'sOME OF US ARE LONELY' YEAH GIRL YOU AINT ONE OF THEM /lh #mono's phone #anon #amphibia #watching amphibia #oh boi amazing chapter

[confused-wanderer]

Dick: Hey guys what’s up?

Damian: Silence! this is a debate I intend to win.

Dick: huh?

Jason *eating popcorn* : You’re gonna wanna see this

Tim: BY FAR IT IS ONLY LOGICAL TO ASSUME-

Steph: LOGIC HAS NO PART YOU’RE JUST BIASED

Jason: They’re fighting over who was the loosest cannon Robin which caused the most chaos

Dick:

Dick *reaches for popcorn*

Jason *slaps his hand* : Nuh-uh Goldie only the one with the title of MOST CHAOTIC ROBIN gets to eat popcorn

Tim: YOU ARE A LITERAL ASSASSIN WHOS TRIED TO MURDER SEVERAL PEOPLE

Damian: REMIND ME OF YOUR BODYCOUNT?!

Dick: what now-

Drake: THAT WAS BARELY ANY AS ROBIN

Steph: Dudes I was literally Robin to piss off my dad and became friends with poison ivy and Harley

Jason: You’re all just competing for second place

Dick: .. wait what about me?

Everyone *stops and stares*

Damian: Nightwing, this is serious

Tim: Yeah dude I remember your reputation as Robin and you haven’t changed

Batman: .. are you all done with the bust?

Steph: BATSY! Just who we want to see! So.. tell us, who was the most chaotic robin ever

Batman *without hesitation* : Nightwing

Penguin *tied up after the bust* : Yeah it was blue

Damian:

Tim:

Steph:

Jason:

Dick *steals popcorn* : Y’all better start putting respect on my damn name

#dick Grayson #Stephanie brown #spoiler #Tim drake #red Robin #Tim drake robin #Damian wayne #Damian wayne robin #nightwing #Jason todd #Jason todd robin #Jason todd red hood #Harley Quinn #poison ivy #penguin #batman #Bruce Wayne #batfam headcanon #dick Grayson robin #incorrect quotes

[leclerc-hs]

snowballs - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you bake cookies with charles and his daughter but still end up on your knees warnings: some cute fluff?, 18+, slight smut, oral (m-receiving), bad french (please correct me!!! i don't speak french), not proofread word count: 1,342 author's note: merry christmas eve (ya filthy animals) lmaooo. also loling at the title. leaving this here for y'all. single dad Charles has me in a complete chokehold. this is not a part 2, just a little Christmas themed drabble if you wanna call it that. if you didn’t read THIS yet, then go do it.

french edits made by @dannyramirezwife !!! (my angel)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE AIR WAS filled with the sweet scent of pine and cinnamon, instantly putting you in a festive mood as soon as you arrived today. Soft, twinkling lights adorn the walls and windows, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space. Throughout the apartment, the sound of classic Christmas tunes plays softly in the background.

The kitchen, where all three of you stood, was pure chaos. Bowls varying sizes are strewn across the countertops, each bearing the remnants of different stages of the baking process. A mixing bowl, its sides smeared with sticky remnants of cookie dough, sits next to a flour-dusted measuring cup. Multiple trays of already baked cookies, sat cooling atop the stove. It truly was a mess.

“Papa! Vous ne pouvez pas manger ça!” You can’t eat those! She exclaimed in fits of laughter. Her face was absolutely covered in ingredients. No doubt from sneaking licks of cookie dough and frosting when she thought that nobody was looking. Flour coated her hands and arms, and some had found its way to her rosy cheeks.

“Ils sont pour le Père Noël!” They’re for Santa! You agreed with her. Swatting him with one of the Christmas themed hand towels that was nearby, before returning to decorating the cookies that lay in front of you.

Charles emitted a resounding gasp, skillfully weaving of feigned anguish. His reaction unfolded with a theatrical flair; a symphony of emotion portrayed through a dramatic hand gesture that traversed the journey of his fist to his chest. It mimicked the palpable sensation of being struck, an artful display of simulated injury. “Un autre homme reçoit tout cela?” Another man gets all of these?

With an indulgent smile, you playfully orchestrate a slow, deliberate roll of your eyes in response to his theatrics. Unfazed by the charming display, you redirect your attention solely to the task at hand – meticulously adorning the remaining cookies with festive embellishments. The ambiance in the room becomes a delightful blend of shared amusement as you all work hard finishing them all.

Charles soon excused himself to his bedroom to gather a call regarding some car testing that happened earlier this week. 

As you were on the verge of releasing a hearty sigh, ready to vocalize your exhaustion, your attention diverted to the drowsy four-year-old near you. Her delicate features were gently pressed against the countertop, closed in the embrace of slumber. A wave of endearment washed over you. Suppressing a giggle, you marveled at the sheer adorableness of the scene, momentarily setting aside your fatigue to savor the precious sight before you.

Tenderly, you gathered her into your arms, cradling her like a precious bundle. With each careful step echoed through the familiar path leading to her room, where the soft glow of ambient light revealed the traces of a day well spent.

Arriving at her bed, you marveled at the cherubic expression on her face. Softly, you attempted to wipe away the remnants of flour that adorned her tiny arms and face, a silent acknowledgment of the shared joy in the day’s baking escapade. Deciding that it was best to let her sleep than to wake her to bathe her now. The sheets could always be washed later. In that quiet moment, you sat on the floor beside her bed, just smiling at her. The room became a sanctuary, where the gentle act of care echoed the love woven into the fabric of the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles stood silently in the doorway, quietly observing the intimate scene before him. A swell of emotion gripped his heart as he beheld the tender scene – there you were, alongside his daughter, the warmth of familial connection radiating from your shared moments. In that unspoken exchange, a poignant desire filled his heart, longing for the sense of family that seemed to effortlessly bloom in your presence. His heart was full of want for you.

“Sugar crash?” His voice, soft and unexpected, caught you off guard, prompting an instinctive flinch. As you turned your head, you found Charles slowly approaching, his tall figure standing gracefully behind where you were seated. His captivating green eyes remained fixed on you, their beauty holding a silent intensity, never once wavering from your presence. 

“Oui,” you softly smiled. “Je devrais aller nettoyer,” I should go clean up. You stood to your feet as Charles pressed a soft kiss to his sleeping girl and brushed her hair out of her face.

Back in the kitchen, it truly looked like a tornado had hit the room. Standing amidst the culinary chaos, you contemplated where to even begin when, suddenly, a pair of hands playfully seized your waist, diverting your attention.

“Tu me rends fou,” You drive me crazy.

His lips pressed softly into the swell of your neck, his tongue pressing against your cookie batter covered skin. “Tellement doux,” So sweet.

Your stomach clenched with butterflies as he spun you around, holding you close to him. Slowly, he brings his index finger to the corner of your mouth, wiping a speck of dough off you and bringing it to your lips.

He doesn’t even need to tell you before your opening your mouth, wrapping your tongue around his finger to lick it off. You stare up at him in the process, witnessing the color of his eyes darken as you release his finger with a ‘pop’.

“Je te rends toujours folle?” Still drive you crazy?

You observed the Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing with a pronounced gulp. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, evidence of his teeth being clenched.

You slowly made your way to your knees, trailing your hands down his body, feeling his taut muscles through the confines of his sweatpants. You skillfully looped your fingers into his waistband, pulling them down to free his hard length. Not too far away, was some spare cookie dough on the island of the kitchen. To which, you reached one arm up and grabbed, spreading some of it onto him, a smirk graced your lips as you heard him groan. 

“Mon dieu,” My God. He physically had to lean forward, hunching over you, in order to grip the kitchen counter top as soon as your tongue met him.

You moaned at the taste of him and the cookie dough.

He half-chuckled as his hips bucked further into your mouth, chasing after his pleasure. He inhaled sharply, trying to relax, but you were eager and adamant on getting him there. You were so so so eager to please him. 

Your hand gripped him, collecting the spit on your fingers, spreading it all over his hot skin, while you suckled gently at his sensitive tip.

“Mmm, fuck,” He couldn’t get full words out as you sunk him deeper into your mouth, his tip scraping the walls of your throat. The burning in his stomach was rising as he watched you eagerly take every inch of him. You moaned at the taste of him, the vibrations pushing him even closer to the edge.

His face was completely flushed now as you bobbed up and down, essentially choking on him. Keeping your voice down, you pulled off of him again.

“Je te veux partout sur ma langue,” Want you all over my tongue. Your whimpery tone sent him over the edge almost instantly. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he repeated. The muscles of his arms bulging as he gripped the edge of the countertop tightly. Your eyes were wet with tears, but you were satisfied as he filled your mouth. Your tongue ran over the tip once more, licking up every drop, before he took a step back from you. 

You grinned lazily at him as you stood to your feet. His chest was rising and down deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

“Complètement fou,” Fucking crazy. He murmurs, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Il est temps de nettoyer!” Time to clean! You clap your hands together, devious to escape his touch. 

But you both know, that he won’t let you off the hook that easily.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #don’t wake the kids cl16 #drabble #f1 drabble

[daydreaming-nerd]

OMG I need pregnant reader x bat boys

That first one was so good thank you for that!! 🩷🩷

Pregnant Reader x Bat Boys (drabble)

This is part 2 to You Want A Baby?

AN: Ahh this was so highly requested I'm sorry it took so long. Also i've never really done a drabble and this is defiantly too long but I wanted to feed y'all as best I could.

Warnings: Pregnancy (duh), child birth, talks of sex?, not proof read (sry after writing Young Love Old Money 5 last night my hands hurt)

Of course your mates got you pregnant on the first try. They were the three most powerful males in the Night Court.

The day you found out was like any other, you were quietly reading while Cassian and Azriel were in Windhaven and Rhys was busy doing paperwork.

The sickness had been building all day and at finally come to it's precipice.

After about an hour of throwing up you went to see Madja who confirmed you were indeed pregnant.

You wanted to run home and tell Rhys right away but it didn't seem fair to your other two mates

So you warded yourself to keep your scent hidden and waited till Azriel and Cassian got home.

You sat on the edge of the bed the waiting for the boys to come to bed, clad in nothing but my black silk nightgown (this one was a present from Rhys)

The boys stalked in and the picture of me sitting innocently on our shared bed had them taking their shirts off.

It wasn't uncommon for you all to release built up tension after a long hard day, especially when the boys had to deal with Devlon.

"Wait there's something I wanna show you first," you smile standing up.

"Something you want to show us?" Rhys laughed knowing that when it came to the bedroom it was often the other way around.

You couldn't keep from smirking as you let the ward around me drop, my scent filling the room.

They inhaled long and slow before their eyes snapped open.

"You're?" Azriel asked.

"Pregnant," you smile watching as a million emotions float across their faces.

A beat of silence passes and then...

"WOOO HOOO!" Cassian roared. "We did it brothers!" he boasted clapping each of them on the back.

All of them came over to me to give me sniff, as if your new scent was addicting. You had to crane your neck up to meet all their happy faces.

"How far along are you?" Rhys asked caressing my face.

"Not very, only 6 weeks," you. smile feeling their warm hands roam my body.

"Well you certainly smell good," Azriel smiles burying his nose in my hair.

"Really?" you ask.

"YES," they all said in unison.

Cassian's hands find the hem of the night gown and start to lift it up peering underneath curiously.

"Cassain if you even think about putting your dick anywhere near her right now I will fucking kill you," Rhys growls.

"I'm not I'm trying to see if she's showing yet," Cassian said, eyes squinting.

"Cass it's too early for her to be showing," Azriel laughed at his brothers antics.

"Well she defiantly is, take a look." Cassian smiled pulling me flush to him and lifting my nightgown more so his brothers could see.

Rhys and Azriel squinted their eyes, clearly trying to see what wasn't there as Cass slid a hand over my belly.

"Cassian darling I think that's just my dinner," you laugh.

"speaking of dinner did you eat enough?" Rhys asked.

and so it began.

Ever since the boys had found out all chaos had erupted.

At first they wanted you to stay in the townhouse at all times. Literally locking you up and throwing away the key

That idea took you a long time to talk them out of but eventually you did.

Then came Rhys arguing that you needed at least 5 wards. Which Cassian and Azriel objected to as they wanted full access to you AND the baby.

Evetually you all settled on one ward. Strong enough to keep threats at bay, but weak enough so Cass and Az could touch you and your bump whenever they liked.

Speaking of bump, Cassian was determined to do a bump update everyday.

The man was DYING to see you with a bump.

"You think the baby will have wings?" you asked innocently while we all laid in bed.

Every night it was a fight for who got to sleep next to you as you unfortunately had an odd number of mates.

"Of course it'll have wings, look at it's fathers," Azriel smirked rubbing a hand over your belly.

"I don't know I wasn't in my Illyrian form when it was conceived," Rhysand states, his words reverberation through me from where my head was perched on his chest.

"Pfft please, I already told you it's mine," Cassian boasted from behind Rhys, clearly being an instigator since he wasn't getting to sleep next to me tonight.

"Cassian," Azriel warns.

"I know , I know. We don't care who got her knocked up just so long as she IS knocked up," Cassian smirks.

"Okay but what if the baby doesn't have wings?" I ask once more.

"Then we'll fuck another one into you until you have one that does," Rhys smiled pressing a kiss to my brow

"Oh we're putting another one in her either way. I want a whole litter of children." Cassian divuldged.

"You want that princess?" Azriel asked rubbing lazy circles over my barley there bump.

"Yeah I think I do." I smile.

The boys were territorial when you were barley showing, but the second the numerous dresses Rhys bought you couldn't cover the bump that's when things got scary.

The shadows. The fucking shadows

They were fucking everywhere.

Azriel had been freaking out ever since your guys walk the other day.

You had been taking in the fresh air of spring when a unknowing passerby slammed into you nearly knocking you over.

"WATCH IT!" Azriel screamed in his face his grip on the mans shirt like a vice.

The poor shopkeeper just about wet himself before running off.

"Now was that really necessary?" you asked, crumbs falling out of your mouth from the 3rd chocolate croissant you had eaten that day.

"He nearly knocked down my pregnant mate, he's lucky I let him off with a warning," Azriel murmured clearly still pissed.

"You Illyrian babies," I roll my eyes finsishing off the croissant.

Azriel just sighed and dug his hand into the paper sack to pull out my 4th pastry.

Ever since then his shadows seemed to follow you everywhere.

If you dropped something? The shadows would pick it up.

If you had troubles walking? there was always a dark mass helping you to the bathroom for the 10th time that day.

Every time the baby kicked? The shadows swirled around you to make sure you were okay.

And boy did that baby kick...

Cassian was the first to feel it.

It was a rainy night at home, Cassian was sleeping next to your belly whispering sweet nothings to it when it happened. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and you nearly did too from the pain.

"Ahh!" you hissed in pain.

"Darling what is it? Are you hurt?" Rhys fussed, leaving his desk to be there in an instant.

"What did you do?" Azriel growled at Cassian who was still staring wide eyed at your bump.

"I'm fine he didn't do anything. The baby is just kicking." I grit out feeling another thump.

I blindly reach out and grab one of my mates hands and press it to my stomach.

I watched as the scarred hand flinched at the kick.

"Oh my god I can feel it," Azriel beamed, his eyes glassing over.

"Move I want to feel," Rhys ordered

Azriel was too hypotized to care.

"I am your High Lord, move" Rhys ordered once more and I swear the room shook.

"I'm getting kinda tired of that phrase too aren't you Cass?" Azriel rolled his eyes.

"Yeah she's our mate too," cassian grumbled.

They spent the night taking turns getting to feel the baby which became a nightly occurrence.

Out of all your mates Rhys was the most doting. He had an entire wing built onto the townhouse for the baby.

He even used his magic to enchant the ceiling of the nursery to look like the night sky so it would be starfall in there every night.

Rhys didn't like to admit it, but he loved baby shopping with you.

"Oh Rhys look at this one can we get it?" you smile holding up a little onesie.

"Yes darling of course," he chuckled in amusement, he had probably heard that phrase a million times.

Your eyes scanned the shop of onesies and cribs, you already nearly everything in the store. But the shop owner always made sure to let you know when there was a new shipment as she knew Rhys would buy his pregnant mate just about anything she asked for.

"Oh my god Rhys please the baby is going to need this," I shout holding up the bat plushy. "Please, please, please, pleaseeeee"

Rhys laughs walking over to me to take my hands in his.

"Darling how many times do I have to tell you? You can have whatever you want." he smiles placing a hand on my bump and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

Fae labor was no joke, there wasn't a single aspect that didn't hurt like hell.

Rhys didn't send Cassian or Azriel away on any missions in the weeks leading up to your due date so they could be there.

Your water broke when you were standing in the kitchen reaching for a glass on the top shelf.

The scream you let out is enough to have Cassian running in from the other room.

"What is it princess? Are you okay?" He asked kneeling down to where I sat on the floor.

"The baby is coming," I winced through the pain, taking Cassian's hand in mine and squeezing with all my might.

That was the good thing about having big, strong Illyrian's as mates. They were fucking durable.

"oh shit," Cassain murmered his eyes searching for some kind of answer of what to do. "RHYS! AZRIEL! THE BABY IS COMING!"

My other two mates winnowed there are lighting speed from where ever they were in the house.

It wasn't long until Rhys had me in his arms winnowing us all to Madja.

"Help her please," he pleaded, my cries of pain clearly affecting him.

Madja had Rhys bring me into the birthing suite and lay me down. I could see the worry on all my mates eyes as they watched me write in pain, sweat grazing my brow.

"How can we help?" Azriel pleaded.

"You can't, you must leave us to work," she said referring to the other healers already pressing cold towels to my face.

"Over my dead body do I leave her side right now," Cassian grumbled.

"Do you want her to die? You'll only be in the way general. Use your head." she argued ushering them out and locking the doors.

The hours in between the closing of the doors and finally giving birth were brutal, not only for yo but for your mates.

They sat outside the door and listened to your screams the entire time.

Azriel nearly ripped his hair out from the sounds of them.

They nearly jumped to their feet at the sound of a baby crying from inside.

But then they heard you a screaming again.

Any happiness died out.

After a few minutes they heard the baby crying again and your screams stopped.

15 minutes later Madja came out holding not one but two small bundles in her arms.

"congratulations, you are the proud fathers of two healthy baby boys," she beamed.

Twins

Rhys and Cassian took the twin boys in their arms, as Azriel was too scared to touch them at first.

"They have wings," Cassian beamed running his hand over the tiny wings.

"Is she?" Rhys asked Madja.

"The mother is perfectly healthy. She needs to nurse the babies, but she insisted that I bring them to you first." Madja smiled.

"can we see her?" Azriel asked.

"Of course you can," Madja said.

The boys carried the twin babies in to see you once more.

You reached out your hands for the one in Rhys arms, the oldest, by a few minutes. He gave him to you and thankfully he latched right away.

"You did so well mate," Azriel said placing a kiss on your forehead.

"How did you boys manage to put twins in me on the first try?" You rasped out, voice still horse.

"If you recall it was no small feat," Cassain smiled.

After feeding them both you slept soundly.

While Cassain and Rhys might've been the first to hold your sons, Azriel was the first one to fall asleep with them. One in each arm.

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @nickishadow139, @eerievixen, @why4anne, @loglady00, @heartless-tate, @callsigns-haze, @fxckmiup, @highladyivy, @highladyivy

Permanent taglist: @fides25

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #rhysand acotar #rhysand smut #cassian acotar #cassian angst #cassian smut #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #bat boys x reader smut #bat boys x reader #bat boys #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #rhys x reader #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel x you

[undeadentropy]

Major spoilers for dungeon meshi ahead, but I really wanna talk about it.

I really love how the demon is handled. It's not just simply evil. Like every other character in the series, it's motives make perfect sense in context. What happened is one of my favorite ideas to play with in fiction. We all know about cosmic horror, and the madness that comes from perceiving their reality. And the demon, being an infinite being from another dimension, certainly is that. And it does spread chaos in its wake. Infinite mana destroys those who wield it in the end. They become foie gras.

But the truth is that it went both ways. The demon was corrupted by a finite world, where once you eat, once your desires are fulfilled, that's it. Things end. The demon is driven mad by consuming desire, by coming to understand this eldritch place it found itself in. It wished for a paradise where desires are forever fulfilled and it could feast forever. It's infinite mind couldn't accept the limitations of mortal existence. It was never equipped to understand hunger, nor could it ever be filled.

Just like a lone traveler who feasts with the fey, it couldn't go back to the way things were before. It needed more, and the only way to do that was to consume everything, forever.

It might hate Laios for what he did, but he saved it from an eternity of unsated gluttony. Bringing everyone to its realm was doomed to fail. For an infinite being, even all life won't be enough to satisfy. That how infinity works. And that's not getting into the fact that this was the only way to defeat the demon without stripping magic away from the world forever. The demon might just figure out just what a favor Laios did for it, though it might be centuries later. Recovery from addiction is never easy.

Anyway, I just think the way they handled it was neat. Alien is purely subjective. The demon was no more prepared for the mortal world than the mortal world was for it.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #spoilers #tw spoilers

[rie-092]

CHILDHOOD FRIEND

✶﹒ yandere! kim raebin x childhood friend! reader

honestly, i can't see kim raebin getting close to a woman who is completely stranger to him. so, let's just say that you were the daughter of their neighbour who is also his childhood friend.

we all know how introverted kim raebin was, so you had a hard time on getting close with him. because he always avoids you, or if you ever found a perfect time to talk to him, he always hisses making you blink. because for someone who looks like a bunny, kim raebin sure acts like a cat around you.

but wanna know how the two of you got close to each other? it's simple. it's because kim raebin accidentally saw you playing a guitar at a school event back when the two of you were in third grade. and boy, he was overjoyed! because this was the first time that he saw someone interested in music just like him!

at first, kim raebin was really shy when the two of you played or rather spent time together while playing various music instruments or making songs. but expect that after that, he would be so clingy. clingy to the point that he would follow you around like a damn puppy. at first, you thought that it was cute— not until you knew that he started stalking you around when you didn't hangout with him for a few days because you were too busy with school works.

what did you do? of course, you confronted him. but look, even though kim raebin has a problem when it comes on socializing with other people. it wasn't the same with you, because this guy knew everything about you. from your likes and dislikes, your habits, hell, even your measurements! that was the main reason why he easily changed the flow of the argument. he easily made you think that you are the one who's imagining that he was stalking you just because you missed hanging out with him, damn this smart guy.

kim raebin is so damn good when it comes to manipulating you into thinking that you were always the wrong one. forcing you to hang out with him without you thinking that he is actually forcing you. but, don't worry because kim raebin will never hurt you, he swear.

that's why when you heard that he got scouted on a certain entertainment company. you were overjoyed about this. because raebin will finally be able to achieve his dream and of course, you will be able to escape his clutches.

but, boy! kim raebin is a smart guy. because a year after kim raebin became a trainee, you got scouted too, by the same company that scouted kim raebin. how did that happen? you have no fucking idea. the only thing that they said is that they liked the song that you sent to them when you didn't actually send them one of your pieces. but who in the hell did sent it to them? you couldn't helped but to wonder. of course, it was a certain black-haired bunny who was overjoyed when he saw you confusedly stepped onto the company. and kim raebin— along with cha eugene who pestered raebin to introduce him to you welcomed you with the usual excited expression of his.

fast forward, when raebin debuted on testar, you also debuted and became the main vocalist, main rapper and lead dancer of your group. raebin liked the fact that everyone shipped the two of you. when does it start again? when you and raebin got invited to a certain variety show where the two kpop artists got partnered with each other and do certain tasks to see how compatible they were with each other. and seeing how the two of you easily do those tasks without even getting shy with each other, the host couldn't help but to ask the reason behind it. and when the two of you said that you were childhood friends. the internet got into chaos, fuck, childhood friends? everyone loves that kind of trope!

and now, he can visit you anytime he wants. seeing you and him eating together? it's fine, you were childhood friends after all! but seeing you getting partnered with a kpop artist who is not raebin? expect that everyone will criticize that idol because of that.

and raebin was satisfied with what was happening. he loved the fact that he was able to tie you down with him without you realizing it. it's fine even if you get into a secret relationship with other famous people. because once that was discovered by the public. he just needs to act pitiful and his and your fans will do the work to force you break up with whoever that guy was.

look, he likes you. he respects your decisions and choices but seeing you with other people makes his skin crawl. so, can you stay with him and do him a favour just like the old days, will you? because if you do that, he will gladly remain still and take care of you and protect your career.

“ i'm doing you a favour, you're just too irrational to see that right now, (first name).”

#manhwa x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere headcanons #yandere manhwa #yandere manhwa x reader #debut or die x reader #debut or die #kim raebin #tw. obsession #tw. manipulation #tw. yandere #i missed yall

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner. 

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store. 

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship. 

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.” 

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks. 

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on. 

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum. 

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5. 

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for. 

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth. 

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison. 

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm. 

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have. 

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera. 

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate. 

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself. 

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around. 

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking. 

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly. 

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life. 

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables. 

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts. 

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room. 

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide. 

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue. 

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp. 

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today. 

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints. 

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied. 

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

 “That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day. 

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face. 

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is. 

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom. 

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight. 

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust. 

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl. 

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing. 

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.” 

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch. 

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence. 

--

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[pathetichimbos]

I wanna eat Thomas up like he my LAST MEAL 😫😫

Shawtyyy like I’m beating up his guts like I die TOMORROW!! 💖💖

Honestly if I saw him with my (dumbass) group of friends I would turn to them and be like “hol’ on i’ma try to wife up this super model ova here, go on without me cuz this town is my new home as long as he here.” While LOUDLY pointing to Thomas and trying to be suave AF but lookin dumb in the process. Lowkey though I feel like realistically he would think I’m making fun of him and kill me first 😭😭.

What’s your take on it?? How would our (hot-sexy-mouthwatering) Thomas Hewitt take a very bold flirtatious reader?? Thanks and bye!! ✌️💖💖

I am having thoughts and feelings about this thank you very much

So, we all know Thomas is a very shy and reserved man. He isn't bold or confident by any means. He does as he's told, and sticks to himself, pretty much never leaving his comfort zone.

But, Luda Mae's getting older, and despite her head-strong and strong-willed demeanor, Thomas worries about her.

So, he starts spending more time at the old country store, if for no reason other than to serve as a deterrent for the off-handed biker or degenerate looking for an excuse to try and rob a poor old station clerk.

It works, and Luda Mae enjoys spending more time with her son.

There's not much to do out at the shop, and so more often than not Thomas finds himself resting out in the old rocker to escape the hot smoky air wafting from the patron's and his mother's cigarettes.

It's a cool October afternoon, a nice breeze keeping the hot sun at bay as he gently pushes himself back and forth with his foot, eyes closed as he rests.

He hears you before he sees you, the loud, excited yells of a group of young women fading in from the distance as a jeep kicks up dirt, pulling up to one of the old, rusty pumps.

He squints his eyes open, watching as the four of you sing along to the radio, no one concerned with how off-key y'all may be.

He sighs, closing his eyes again, not moving from his seat in the old rocker as your group continues having the time of your lives.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," A clear voice suddenly emerges from the chaos, the music lowering to a quiet hum, "Who is that?"

He opens his eyes again, seeing that you have set your eyes on him from your place in the backseat, sunglasses lowered to take in a better look.

He frowns behind his mask, face scrunching in expectancy, waiting to hear the barrage of rude comments and hideous bullying.

The rest of your friends glance over his way as he shuffles in his seat, shoulders tensing as he looks away, uncomfortable with the attention.

"Goddamn." You start again, letting out a low whistle, "If this is what this town has to offer y'all can just leave me here."

A large eruption of playful teasing, groans, and eye rolls come from your friend group as you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a large, flirtatious grin.

He looks back, caught off guard by the terrible pick up line, frozen in place as you blow him a kiss.

"Are you for sale, pumpkin, 'cause I could just eat you up!"

"Oh, my god, leave the poor man alone." One of your friends tease you, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you further into the car.

He can't help but stare, left in shock by the sudden and unexpected flirting.

You couldn't be serious, right...?

There's no way you could actually be flirting with him right now... Right?

His thought process is broken as you ungracefully climb out of the truck, pulling yourself over the door and almost busting your face in the process.

Brown eyes stay glued to you as you walk over to him, hips swaying in what he was sure to be a much more suave and appealing way than the dorky saunter you were pulling now.

...This was definitely a joke.

"Hey." You barely stifle through your amused giggling to speak, "Do you have a name or can I just call you mine?"

"Y/N!" Your friends groan loudly from the car, watching you attempt to work your magic.

He looks you up and down, trying to figure out if this was some strange attempt to mock him or if you were actually coming onto him, the latter making his face flush pink at the idea.

"Thomas!" His mother steps out of the shop, poking her head out to look at the two of you, "Come help me put this stuff up."

He isn't sure if she really needs help or if it's a feeble attempt to get him out of the situation, and to be completely honest, he's not really sure he wants to leave.

But his mother says she needs help, so he stands from his chair, rising to his full height, something that would cause most people to take at least a small step back, but your smile only seems to grow as you stand in place, clearly checking him out as you look him up and down.

He starts to ignore you, heading back inside, only to hear the wooden floorboards creak behind him as he reaches the counter.

He looks back, a confused look on his face as he sees you following behind like a lost duckling.

"Don't mind me," You wink, "My mama just always told me to follow my dreams."

He huffs in amusement at that, shaking his head.

Maybe your pickup lines weren't all that bad.

...

As time goes on, and the more he gets to know you, the more he's going to find your flirtatious advances amusing and endearing, but if you don't make it very clear from the beginning that there's actual feelings behind your remarks, he's going to assume that they're just jokes and you're not actually into him.

He's a big romantic, he'll catch feelings rather easily the more you flirt and tease him, and if he isn't 100% sure that they're more than just jokes, he'll eventually grow to resent them because he feels like he's being teased, even if you have no idea he has feelings for you at all, so communication (while a big deal in every relationship) will be especially important if you're a flirtatious person.

#is this cat calling? #maybe #but thats okay #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x s/o #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o

[mrsackermannx]

chef!sukuna who’s still lower in the rank than he wants to be, but so close to being a sous. tonight is his night to do the night’s special dish, finally. he earned this. he knew that if the head chef just let him, he could create the best dish ever served at this damn place.

so, he does just that.

he’s immediately scolded, the dish uses too many ingredients, the head says. too much to prepare. too ambitious. even though he used all of the left over ingredients from the menu’s usuals. 0% waste, 0% additional cost.

sukuna curses, taking a deeper drag of his cigarette. “make sure no table gets that shit,” he hears, with his fists clenching at his sides. ill go to the gym after this, he thinks, yeah, punch the fuck out of that bag.

it turns out that only table 8 has the dish, your table. the server messed up and now they’re crying in the back to the porter because they’ve been fired on the spot. “i told you not to fucking take it! have you never done expo-“

sukuna stalks calmly to the shaking waiter, “show me table eight-“ he sighs, levelling the head chef with a glare, sukuna was much larger, much stronger than him, difference in rank or not. he stood down, stalking down the other side of the kitchen with a huff. “ignore him, i wanna see who’s eating my dish, come on, let’s go.”

a reassuring pat to the shoulder from sukuna was almost enough to make him cry even more. sukuna kind of hated everyone.

“just there, chef. the couple, bedside the pillar on the left…its um…her, chef.” he grins, watching how transfixed the normally gruff man is, “your girl heh heh.”

“shut up,” he says, but he smiles a little.

he watches you, sat opposite some guy you hardly look interested in, you’re beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, as always, his eyes are drawn to you, no other woman could compare.

he watches you slice through his dish, the fork at your lips, as soon as it reaches your mouth you make a noise of such rapture, a sudden quiet falls upon the floor of the restaurant.

it’s almost weird how heat rushes low at the sight and the sound, he can’t remember the last time anyone else fired him up like this. he never took himself to have any kind of food fetish, either. yet watching you eat his dishes always seems to be an erotic exchange he never anticipates.

“oh…him? think they’re married?”

“i don’t think so.”

that man seems to hiss at you, eyes on his watch, barely touching his dish. “i wanted pizza downtown, god.”

you shake your hand in dismissal, shoving another forkful in your mouth. “i wanted this, i always want this.”

sukuna let’s out a breathy fuck, and the server practically faints.

no one was immune to sukuna’s charm, then, it seemed.

“oh, fuck, table 7 saw me. fuck, chef ive already been fire-“

“go and give them a reason not to fire you. go, go to your table kid, it’s still yours, right?”

the table beside you seems to have called him over, asking for the same dish you seem to believe has came from heaven, telling anybody who asks.

sukuna can’t help but enjoy the lively affair, as the restaurant manager tries to explain over and over to more and more tables that the chef special has been cancelled. oh, how he loved this little bit of chaos.

“why?” your voice clatters through the cacophony like a piece of silverware on crockery. “this dish is phenomenal, the best ive ever eaten here and in this city, in this country-“

“miss-“

“taste it! can you not taste the hard work? the thought? its the best thing ive ever eaten. the chef who made this has impeccable taste and talent.”

your laughter rings through the place at your partners embarrassment. sukuna is about to pry himself away and head back into the kitchen, leaning on the side of the bar and then…your eyes meet, another forkful is waiting before those glossed lips. another sweet sound of joy rings through the air.

now you see him, huh?

your smile is sweeter than agave, “it’s you.”

your words are lost on everyone around you, but to sukuna he hears them as if you whispered them right against his ear.

sukuna was a tall, broad, and unquestionably handsome man, unmissable out of his chef whites, invisible in them, somehow. obscured by the ambient lighting of the restaurant.

you near him, like a moth to a flame, a sensual air to the way your hips flick toward him. “you-“

the head chef storms through to the restaurant floor, the door slamming you both into the corresponding wall. his large arms wrap around you, his hand cups the back of your head.

he slowly retracts his hand, and your chest rises as you resist the urge to press your cheekbone into his palm, “are you okay?”

his voice is deep and addicting, dark and dripping down your throat.

you’re beaming at him, like he’s an angel, like he’s somebody you already adore. he gifts you a lover’s laugh, “you seem to be the only satisfied person in the building tonight.”

“seems like you’ve satisfied me sir.” you wink, still letting his aura press you into the wall, he cages you in with his arms.

“oh?”

“last thursday. that soup, you made it, didn’t you…?”

“sukuna,” he answers for you, “maybe.”

“seafood special last month?”

“yes, and your name?”

for some reason he’s out of breath, you’re so close, so fancy in your silk dress, clad in jewellery that sparkles even under these dimmed lights. “reader, you…you’re a genius.”

“so you came to thank me personally?” he leans closer, swiping sauce from the corner of your lip. it lingers on his thumb, his eyes chase yours as he licks it. “how sweet of you.”

#chef!sukuna #chef sukuna would absolutely ruin and wreck my heart #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #this concept is just in my head i cannot #younger chef sukuna #food critic reader?!! #foodie reader??? #now i want to write a whole fic about this

[blueteller]

TCF Out of Context

Cale: (suddenly stripping) Choi Han, give me your clothes Choi Han & Billos: ???

Rosalyn: Young Master Cale.... what are you doing...? Cale: Crime in progress. Is something wrong?

Hannah: I wanna bathe in the blood of my enemies Cale: (internal screaming) .....Sure

Choi Han: Your highness, there's... a hole in the wall of the prison now, for some reason... Alberu: (headache intensifies)

Mary: Young Master Cale, you should eat. You only don't eat when you're dead. Cale: (sweating) ...??

Hans: (cheerfully) That's right Young Master, there's no such thing as hopes and dreams in this world! Cale: Just shut up. Hans: Yes, sir!!

Raon: Goldie Gramps! Play dead! Eruhaben: ...???

Clopeh: (points at Cale) Father, this esteemed person is a God Cale: ?!?!?!?!

Wind Elemental 1: CHAOS! DESTRUCTION! DEATH!!! Wind Elemental 2: Sorry about him... he's always like that...

Bud: (offended) I'm a swordmaster, not baggage! Cale: That's right. I'm the baggage. Bud: Wut- Cale: Shut up and carry me

Choi Han: So, what is your plan Cale-nim? Cale: Let's have our enemies start a campain to kill Cale Henituse Choi Han & Raon: ...?!?!?

God of Death: Dear Diary. Today, I got beat up with a broom.

Alberu: So this is why I probably shouldn't be the king- Cale: Your highness your ancestor was a criminal Alberu: ?????

Cale: (brutally beating up the White Star with a pebble) Everyone: ..........

Cale: (burns money and Laughs in Rich) Eruhaben: (feeling poor) ...I'm too old for this

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count’s family #humor #tcf humor #tcf hilarious moments

[moraxsthrone]

Um, hello. I'm a little nervous to make this request, so please forgive me if I messed up.

May I request headcanons of Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma and Zhongli 's girlfriend bringing them homemade lunch while their working and when asked who she's looking for, she happily says "My handsome husband, the one and only (boy's name), of course!" while the boys are within earshot?

I just wanna see these boys acting lovestruck and blushy

//peeks out from the hole of chaos that is my life.

omg nonnie, i'm so sorry it's taken me so long to answer this. i wonder if you'll even see it. 🥺 if anyone did anything wrong here, it's me.

— how he reacts when you bring him homemade lunch at work

— pairings — diluc, itto, kaeya, thoma, zhongli, and (bonus) tighnari x f!reader

— notes — sfw. fluff. diluc's is a drabble //help. his just came to me so vividly. the rest are headcanons, as requested.

— diluc —

your wine tycoon husband is fetching a couple of barrels from the storage area in the back of angel’s share when he hears your voice. he wonders why you’re here so early in the afternoon (you’re not kaeya after all), but a small smile still manages to grace his face as charles asks if he can get you a drink. diluc is just about to round the corner when he hears you answer cheerily, “no, thank you. i’m just here to bring lunch to my handsome husband, diluc! i made him his favorite and even threw in some grape juice from the winery!” the tavern owner stops dead in his tracks, his heart skipping a million beats. it’s adorable, really. not only is he easily flustered, but his fair skin is so quick to show even the slightest color. he knows he’s flushed a bright red from his neck to his ears. he’s too embarrassed to let his employee see him like this so he panics and this grown ass man HIDES BEHIND A FUCKING WINE BARREL!

he can almost hear the shit-eating grin on charles’s face when he points towards the back and tells you where you can find your “handsome husband, diluc”. he should dock his pay for that. now what does he do? just as you clear the bar area, you see the top of a crimson ponytail behind a barrel in the dim corridor. “diluc? is that you, baby?” the jig is up; there’s no point trying to hide anymore so he stands up slowly. “why were you crouched behind that wine barrel?” you press, and he clears his throat. “i was…uhhh…i dropped…something,” he stammers, doing his best to preserve his signature stoicism. but as you get closer you see the deep red blush that rivals the natural color of his hair. “wait…are you blushing?” “no.” “you’re blushing!” laughing, you start to touch his face, but he quickly covers it with both his hands, muffling his voice when he groans, “why must you always tease me like this?” “because you’re so cute when you blush,” you say, still giggling while trying to pry his hands away. he can hear charles wheezing behind the bar. “stop! go away, woman! you’re making it worse!”

— itto — 

who are we kidding? itto doesn’t work.

but let’s assume he’s doing an odd job and one of his gang members spots you as you’re approaching (not knowing you're his boss's wife) and tells you it’s too dangerous to pass through the area.

itto is out of eyeshot, but your voice is music to his ears when he hears you refer to him as your husband. 

“yeah! i made him his favorite and brought enough for everyone!”

his face lights up with a big, stupid grin bc that is easily one of the nicest things anyone has done for his gang.

just as akira is taking some of the bags you’ve been carrying by yourself, your big oni husband rounds the corner and is headed right for you with his pink-dusted cheeks.

picks you up into a hug and gives you a big, long, close-lipped kiss with unshed tears wetting his eyelashes.

when shinobu ribs him for crying, he denies it.

“i- i’m not crying, shinobu! my uhh…my allergies are acting up again!”

— kaeya — 

it means the whole fucking world to him?

he never thought he’d have someone in his life who would go out of their way to bring him lunch that THEY MADE JUST FOR HIM. 

he may not seem like it, but kaeya loooooves being domestic with you.

he smirks and teases you when you fuss over him, but he EATS THAT SHIT UP.

please do little things like this for him? it makes him feel so cared for, something he feels like he’s missed out on for most of his life.

ever the romantic, the captain sweeps you up into his arms bridal-style, making you squeal and laugh right in front of all his subordinates. 

kaeya makes YOU blush, not the other way around, okay?

— thoma — 

he’s usually the one waiting on others hand and foot so when you do something so domestic and thoughtful for him, his pretty green eyes positively SPARKLE. 

the brightest smile spreads across his face along with the swath of pink that stretches from one cheek to the other.

immediately wants to make something for you too. 

he insists! 

so you sit and watch him whip something up for you in the kamisato kitchen, your chin resting in your palms wondering how you got so lucky to marry the sweetest man in all of teyvat.

he packs both your lunches and leads you outside and finds the prettiest sakura tree to sit beneath while you enjoy your meals together. 

— zhongli — 

he’s touched, but it takes a lot more than bringing him food or referring to him as your husband to fluster the former archon.

if anything, he barely suppresses a smirk - satisfied with the pride in your voice when you call him “husband”.

he stands from his desk and steps out of his office to greet you in the funeral parlor’s lobby, shoulders back and head held high because he’s quietly proud of you too.

“my darling love…” he starts, seeing the delicious meal that he could smell from his office. “you truly shouldn’t have…”

“but i wanted to,” you say shyly as he leans in to leave a quick peck on your cheek.

“will you be joining me?” he asks, hopeful.

“oh, this is just for you, dear. i didn’t bring any for myself. i thought you might be too busy...”

“then i’ll share with you, my love,” he insists, offering you his arm, which you take with a smile and let him lead you back to his office.

— tighnari (bonus) — 

a handful of forest rangers are standing on the dock near tighnari’s hut when you flash them a quick smile before heading past them towards your husband’s office.

one of them stops you. “ma’am, you can’t just walk into the chief officer’s-”

you laugh sweetly and wave him off. “i can do a lot more than you think i can…”

it is at that moment that the rangers stiffen as their officer steps out with a stern expression on his face.

his multi-colored eyes are fixed and serious, but as a rosy heat rises to his pale cheeks you swear you hear a snicker from his group of subordinates.

you walk up to where tighnari is holding one of the giant leaf flaps open in the doorway and give him a quick little peck on the cheek.

that sends the angry blush all the way to the insides of his perked ears.

he dismisses the rangers as you walk past him and into his office like it’s your second home.

his watchful eyes follow his rangers as they disperse before he lowers the leaf flap to join you within.

he sniffs at the air. “wait. did you…?”

you simply nod with a pleased smile as you set the frond-wrapped box down on his desk. you’d made his favorite: forest watcher’s choice, rife with various (non-poisonous) mushrooms that you know he finds most delicious.

nari rounds his desk to join you and puts a gloved hand on the small of your back as he leans in and kisses your temple, ear twitching and tail wisping behind him.

“thank you, love. you’re too good to me,” he muses.

#kel.answers 💌 #genshin hcs #genshin imagines #diluc x reader #itto x reader #arataki itto x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #thoma x reader #zhongli x reader #morax x reader #tighnari x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc fluff #itto fluff #arataki itto fluff #kaeya fluff #kaeya alberich fluff #thoma fluff #zhongli fluff #morax fluff #tighnari fluff #diluc hcs #itto hcs #kaeya hcs #thoma hcs #zhongli hcs #tighnari hcs

[noxxchive]

mwah what up dawg can i requests dazai with a s/o whos very immature like laughs at the wrong time, whos laughs at inapporiate jokes and pranks kunikida. :33

YAHOOO hello hi hey anon!! TY for the request ehhehe MUA also dazai is so silly i wanna put him in a microwave *having a near death stroke*

✦ Dazai with an immature S/O ✦

♫ Walking On A Dream - Empire Of The Sun

✧ warnings : gn reader・ bad writing・slight hint at suggestive jokes・dazai being dazai (what else is new)・crack?・fluff??? (what the fuck is this help…)

✧ summary : some headcanons (my brain is fried) + you and zaza Dazai are a tad bit silly together at the agency instead of workin

w/c : 1K-ish

Youuuu two are pretty much the cause of Kunikida's daily headaches…

…though it's not just Kunikida losing his mind at this point, with both you and Dazai matching each other's energy, the whole agency is praying for peace every day.

Dazai feels prideful when he gets to get a little laugh out of you, it's easy for you to laugh at things and he finds it adorable

Your laughs and giggles feed his ego TRUST

His favorite moments are when you both seem to read each other's mind, later going back and forth between your ideas of how to annoy Kunikida

Both end up getting scolded and lectured by him, and in a worst-case scenario, he forces the two of you to sit as far apart from each other as possible while dumping piles of paper on your desks.

Your laughs also make him burst out laughing as well no matter how unfunny or serious the situation can be

With his way of wording things and your humor combined, it’s impossible for you to not snicker when he says the most normal things

“Dazai can you over real quick—” “I’m coming!” “…….that’s what she said LMFAOOOO”

A hundred percent made you laugh so much once that your stomach AND jaw were hurting

Dazai is silly, so it’s only fair he gets an ALSO silly s/o

…Today was unexpectedly boring. No special cases, no special encounters with the infamous port mafia… no special anything. Just paperwork. The only way to entertain yourself—and slack off from dealing with the paperwork and reporting on earlier cases—was to cause a little bit of chaos. The awkward silence throughout the agency’s office was killing you anyways…

You took a quick glance at Dazai who was sitting across the room and laying his chin on his desk, half asleep and bored out of his mind. He was quick to notice you looking at him and returned your gaze with his shit eating grin. The one that meant ‘nothing but trouble™’.

Your lips parted slightly to mouth the words ‘I’m bored’ to him, but Dazai was already spinning around in his office chair and wheeling his way closer to Kunikida’s desk.

“Heeeeey Kunikida~ So, you see, me and y/n are a teensy bit bored and I was wo-”

“Get the hell back to work, Dazai.”

The blond grumbled in frustration, not even raising his head from the monitor screen in front of him. His hands typed into the computer with speed, making a continuous clicking sound. Kunikida then paused, fixed his glasses and turned his head to you.

“…You too, y/n.”

He added, speaking in a much less annoyed tone than when he talked to Dazai. He immediately went back to working. The brunette sighed, getting back to his desk with a pout. Though, you knew that he was way too bored to have mercy on Kunikida today—or literally any other day.

Yanking one of the forms put aside on his desk in a swift motion, Dazai carefully turned it into a paper plane. He continued doing so until nearly half the pile of papers was gone and paper plane-ified. You raised your head from your own work and watched in amusement.

“Oh? You knew origami and didn’t tell me? Wow, ‘samu, can’t believe you’ve been keeping such great talent a secret from me!” You giggled, clutching your chest to add onto your dramatic act while spinning your office chairs’ way closer to Dazai. He grinned, busy adding the finishing touches to his 30th paper plane, “Oh I can do much more than some silly origami stuff, trust me on that.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, loud enough for Dazai’s ears to catch it and smile with pride. He was so focused that he had even piqued Atsushi and Kyouka’s interest—along with Ranpo stealing glances from time to time.

You had long begun to help him with whatever he was scheming, making a few paper planes of your own and dropping the 45th? 54th? Whatever number paper plane onto his desk. While both of you were busy with your paper plane making, Kunikida’s laptop slammed shut; though neither you nor Dazai heard it or the sound of him stomping his way to the two of you. Dazai snickered while you counted the paper planes he’d made, going back and forth with the numbers as you kept losing count.

“Goddammit Dazai, stop distracting me! Unless you want to count all this yourself…” You grumbled and playfully smacked him in the head with the plane you were holding. He chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when Kunikida cleared his throat.

It made you both sink into your seats, slowly turning to face him—arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot.

“Dazai. Y/n. May I ask what you’re doing? It’s not work as far as I’m concerned.”

Kunikida’s tone was surprisingly calm… the calm before the storm, you thought. Dazai, completely nonchalant about Kunikida’s presence, held one of the paper planes up and above his own head and grinned.

“Entertaining ourselves since boredom is ought to kill us~ Why do you ask?”

Out of curiosity, you decided to unfold one of the planes to take a look at it’s contents. Your vision blurred for a second once you realized what all that paperwork that you had turned into planes actually was… While Dazai was busy showing off the paper plane he had in hand to Kunikida, you desperately tugged on his sleeve, tapped his shoulder, shook his hand, anything to get him to stop talking.

“Dazai… have you even taken a look at what those papers were about?” Kunikida cut Dazai off, brows furrowed.

“Hmm? Oh, no not really! What’re they fo—”

“They’re all boss’ notes and reports…”

You whispered to him in a shaky voice, eyes still glued to Fukuzawa’s signature at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper.

“Handwritten notes and reports.”

All three of you turned your head to Ranpo, who was fiddling around with a bag of chips, struggling to get it open.

“Those are all handwritten by him. He left them on Dazai’s desk not expecting anyone to touch them, knowing that he barely—almost never works… Just thought I’d let you know.”

A long pause. Ranpo then turned his chair around and aside from his faint chewing, the silence in the office had become deafening…

“…Wow, nice work, detective Dazai Osamu…” You mocked, eyebrows knitted together.

“Hey! Don’t throw me under the bus like thaaaaat, you helped too! So cruel of you, bella…”

Dazai gave you a dramatic ‘hmph!’ and awkwardly turned to Kunikida—who was practically shaking in fury—with a sheepish smile, throwing the paper plane at his head followed by a nervous laughter.

“Nowwww before you do or say anything, Kunikida-kun~ In my defens-”

“…DazaaAAAIIII—!!!”

p.s : its been awhile since ive written and actually posted it so this is a bit wonky I KNOW im not this ass at writing please spare my life i have a wife and kids…

#𓂃⊹⁺༉ noxie one shots #bsd dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #dazai x male reader #dazai x gn reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd x gn reader

[sim0nril3y]

Night Out

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: After a night out with your friends Simon is happy to care for you even if you make his life hell sometimes. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, tiny mention of smut pre-going out, drunk chaos, hurting knee, canon-typical swearing.

It was late, much later than Simon would usually have stayed up. Being a solider his body was used to a strict routine; his years of services made it so he would go to bed early and then would be up early as not to waste any of the day. There would be often when he would be woken in the night by dreams of thinking he heard noises but since sleeping beside you would generally get some good hours of sleep in, way more than when Simon slept alone or away on deployment.

However, now he was sat on the sofa, eyes fight to stay open as he stared blankly at whatever re-run was playing on the TV. Unlike usual you weren’t curled up into his side, drooling on his shoulder. No, you were out with one of your friends that Simon hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. Whoever it was, it was her birthday and she had wanted to spend it celebrating in a club.

By now Simon knew that you’d been a few drinks into the night, maybe even a couple of shots too, drunk dancing with your girlfriends. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything worse than being in a sweltering, crowded room that was filled with terrible deafening music and that was exactly what he had told you before sending you on your merry way with a kiss and a promise of collecting you once you were ready, no matter the time, he’d added.

Sat back, bouncing his knee softly and biting on his thumb nail Simon’s mind wandered to the outfit you’d worn. You had looked fucking ethereal, almost causing you to be late for the taxi by eating your sweet pussy from behind as he bent you over the bathroom sink. Simon knew you looked good and he knew any bloke in that club would be practically throwing themselves at you, grinding up behind you, maybe even placing their hands on you before you’d brush them away. It frustrated him. No, it made him seethe.

Simon wasn’t able to dwell on it for too much longer as his phone began to jingle beside him. God, he’d never had the sound on his phone before, was that his ringtone? Ugh. He didn’t linger, answering it and saying. “Love, you there?” He winced at the overwhelming noise that spilled through his speaker, deep booming music and muffled voices. “Babe?” He asked again, sitting forward and speaking a little louder as if to get your attention.

“… not going already…” “… it’s late… Simon is waiting…” “Babe.” He asked again, but the conversation continued. “We’re getting a taxi…” “Noooo~” “Love.” Simon growled, standing up then and rubbing his hand slowly down his face. “… I wanna get home to my man~” A flutter of ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ followed before you giggled and said. “Oh, wait…” Then your voice was closer, talking to him finally. “Simon, baby. You there?”

Instantly he answered. “I’m here.” Trying not to smirk too much about having heard your sappy little comments. “You ready to come home, love?” He quizzed, moving to grab his keys from the bowl closer to the front door, shutting off the TV and waiting for a moment. “I’m ready…” You answered, your voice was slurred and light, it made him smile to himself. You told him the club that you were currently standing outside the front of and then said. “But don’t rush. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be there in 10. Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone but your friends.” It was commands that made you giggle and then response. “Yes, sir~” “Oi, behave.” Simon quipped back as he quickly exited his home. “I’ll see you soon.”

Pulling the car over a few spaces down in a taxi spot, Simon shrugged, clambering from his truck and heading down the road, past a group of rowdy young men, much younger than him and chatting about all the birds they were gonna pull, talking a big game but Simon knew that more than half of them would be going home alone.

As he approached the doorway, Simon smirked as he saw you speaking to one of your friends, looking over animated and hearing the sound of your slurred giggle from there. “Look~” You friend pointed in his direction and in a moment, you turned, gasping in elated surprise and then rushing at him full force. “Simon~” You whimpered, wrapping your flailing drunken body around his strong form. “Hi baby.” He whispered, rubbing your back soothingly before setting you down onto your bare feet. “Where are your shoes?” Simon asked and you looked puzzled and then shrugged. “Must’ve lost them.”

“Both of them?” Simon frowned down at you, then shaking his head. “Do any of your friends need a lift home?” Drunkenly you shook your head, eyes struggling to focus as you did so.

At your answer he was relieved, he just wanted to get you safely home now. “Alright. Hold on.” A shriek pulled from your throat, swinging you up over his shoulder and beginning to walk you back to his waiting truck. “Simon! Simon!” It was like you couldn’t even control your laughter and he thought a smile. “You lose your shoes then you get carried.”

Getting you into the car wasn’t that much of a struggle, he placed you in the seat, strapped you in and then began driving home. It was everything around that which came almost like a game to you. Pointing to each passing by food place you’d point to it and ask if you could stop there and get some chips, Simon refused, promising to make you something once you’re home knowing that by then you’d have forgotten all about it.

“O-oh, babe… there was this song… in the club… it was s'good.” You told him then, reaching over to begin fiddling with the radio, turning it up so loud it made Simon jolt and then reaching to turn it back down and give you a hard look. “Just sit still.” He said firmly. “Stop fiddling with things-” As if on cue the window began to wind down beside you, air busting into the car and Simon growled as he used the controls his side to slide it back firmly up. “Oi, what did I just say?”

“I heard you…” You replied with a knowing grin on your face. “Just wanted some fresh air.” You pouted towards him and Simon huffed, shaking his head and gripping the steering wheel. “Did you have a nice time with your friends?” Simon questioned then, trying to distract you from messing around with anything else in his car. “Oh, it was so much fun. I was dancing so much my feet were hurting, but I kept going.” Then you giggled then, it was so pure and full of drunk joy that Simon couldn’t help but smirk too.

Nodding his head Simon asked. “Didn’t have any boys trying to make moves on you then?” He quirked a brow in your direction and you giggled. “Oh, no~” You giggled, then it began harder before gazing at him. “I told them all I had a big strong man waiting at home for me and they all kept a goooood distance~” Reaching over she placed a distracting hand on his thigh. He knew he couldn’t take advantage of your lowered inhibitions, so he took your hand and linked your fingers, removing it from exploring any further. “I’m happy to hear that, baby.”

Once he arrived home, Simon carried you inside and carefully sat you at the edge of the bed and frowned when he saw a bloody gash on your knee. “Did you fall over?” He asked, observing it carefully. “Mmhmm… it doesn’t hurt, don’t worry~” Then flopping back onto the bed, arms spread wide beside you. “Bloody hell, with the amount of alcohol in your system you could get hit by a bus and you wouldn’t feel it…” Tiredly you began to giggle, Simon rose up and said. “Let me clean that up…”

He took his time cleaning and dressing the wound, making sure that it didn’t seem to concerning before looking up to see you gradually falling asleep. “Babe, don’t sleep. You need to drink some water and change. Okay?” “… Wan' sleep…” You already slurred voice was now destroyed by sleepiness. “Babe. Up. C’mon…” Carefully pulling you to be upright. “Get changed. I’ll get you some water.”

Leaving the room, Simon took a little time turning off lights and locking doors before returning with a glass of water, stepping into the room to find you face down on the bed with dress caught around your hips and snoring softly. “Fuckin’ hell…” He muttered, stepping over to place down the water and then tugging your dress down and throwing it aside. “Up for a minute, baby.” He coaxed you upright, tugging one of his oversized shirts over your head and then bringing the glass of water to your lips. “Just a couple big gulps. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” Simon promised lowly, kissing your hairline as you followed his orders. “Good girl. Good girl. One more for me.” Again, smiling as you tired body did as he requested. “That’s a good girl. Let’s lay you down for a little bit.” Your body flopped exhausted as Simon rolled you safely onto your side.

It was mere seconds before you were snoring lowly into the pillow, Simon moved to lay down beside you, observing you for as long as he could muster to keep his eyes open and then sinking into the abyss beside you, knowing that you were safe at home beside him in bed was enough, he could deal with whatever chaos came with that.

Masterlist | Ask | 21-11-2023

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost call of duty #ghost mw3 #ghost imagine #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[dxckgrxsonx]

We all know jason loves eating pussy, and this mf knows he's good at too, he gets hard and off off it. but imagine him coming home from patrol and him being needy asf and being bratty and once he gets his mouth on you he's whimpering and grindning his hips into the bed and your pulling his hair and it makes him moan and grind into the bed even more, and when he's finally done getting you off he stands up and you see the wet spot on his boxers and he's still hard and he's shy and soft about it

Also bby I love your version of jason and dick, like holy fuck the shit you write is AMAZING like I love you so much..

its after 2am. i have to be up for work at 7. i give zero fucks rn. i need to write this. if i fall asleep at work later, im blaming you.

**

"Fucking hell, Jay. What's gotten into you?"

He paws at you, strong hands trying to tug at the elastic of your pyjama shorts. His mouth is pitched up in a smirk. He wants something, you know he does. The elastic snaps back against your skin when Jason fumbles his grip and you hiss through your teeth at the sting.

You're grabbing at his shoulders, trying to find some fleeting sense of stability amongst his chaos. In the back of your head, you note that he's back from patrol a little early.

"Slow night, huh?" You try, unable to do anything but shuffle back in half steps when Jason herds you to the bedroom. "Must be if you're this needy."

His focus shoots to you, a pout suddenly settling on his face, "Wanna eat you out. Missed the taste of you."

Your eyebrow cocks up, eyes searching for a clock, "You are aware it's the middle of the night, right? We should be sleeping."

"But baby." Jason whines, settling on his front when you tip backwards onto the bed. "I want to lick your pussy. Please let me taste you, I know you're wet."

Combing your fingers through his hair when he leans forwards to press a handful of kisses across your stomach, you tug lightly at the base of his skull and pull his head back so you can look at him.

"Always about you, huh? I want this. I want that. What about me?"

Jason whimpers, "C'mon, sweetheart--please. Y'know I'm good at it. I'll have you coming in no time. Then when I'm done, we can go to bed."

Dragging his fingers just under the waistband of your shorts you feel your body flush with goosebumps. His touch burns a path straight through to your gut, it feels like wildfire, feels like nuclear fission. He kickstarts the heat inside you and you feel yourself start to get damp.

"Pleaseee. Lemme lick your pretty pussy. Wanna make you feel good."

Cupping his cheek with one hand you sigh, "Okay, baby. If you want it so bad."

Pulling your shorts down your thighs Jason grins, impossibly pleased with himself, maybe a little smug. It's an infuriatingly good look on him and it's hard not to react in the way he wants you to. Stupid smug horny bastard.

Guiding your thighs over his broad shoulders, Jason swipes his soft, wet tongue through your slit. At soon as your taste blooms across his tongue he moans, eyelids fluttering closed in bliss. He licks you from your soaking entrance, all the way up to your puffy clit.

Grabbing at your waist, Jason sucks your clit between his lips and drags the flat of his tongue over it. Bucking your hips up you choke out a quiet gasp of his name and fist at his hair.

Almost immediately, Jason moans into your cunt, hips grinding into the bed. Yanking at the strands harder, you guide his head where you want it to be and the noise he makes has your clit twitching desperately in his mouth.

Suckling at the throbbing bundle of nerves your thighs quake over his shoulders. Even though he gets his mouth on your pussy as often as he can, Jason never fails to have you seeing space and time and everything in between.

He's good. Really fucking good.

"S'good, Jay." You gasp, head tipping back. "So good for me, baby."

You feel him whine against your clit and you kick your hips up, grind yourself into his greedy mouth. Jason takes it easily, reflectively adjusts to every single movement you make until you hold his head in place using his hair.

"Uh--fuck." He moans into your cunt when he realises what you're going to do. "Use me, baby. Grind that pretty pussy all over my face."

Rocking your hips, you hold Jason in place and grind against his talented mouth. For a brief second, you think he's going to come with the sound he makes and the way he grinds his cock into the sheets. Instead, he drags his tongue all over your clit and you make a high, keening noise in the back of your throat.

"M'close." You manage to get out, breathless and trembling.

Doubling his efforts, Jason licks and sucks at your clit like an expert, like he knows exactly what to do to get you coming undone. Sliding two fingers into your clenching hole he twists his wrist and drags them over your sweet spot.

Gushing all over his hand you jerk and yank at his hair. Jason cries out and shudders from head to toe. Pumping his fingers into you, you feel heat drag up your neck when you hear the way your pussy squelches around the digits.

Arching your back when he sucks at your clit and hits your sweet spot at the same time you come undone, crying out his name and thrusting against his face. You feel your clit pulse and twitch in his mouth as he keeps lavishing it with attention, pussy squeezing rhythmically around his fingers.

Pulling back once you're spent, you release the tight hold you have on his hair. Jason rocks back onto his knees and you notice straight away the damp spot staining the front of his underwear.

A flush spreads up his throat, redness touching at his cheeks. Your heartbeat kicks up a notch at the sight of him, soft and embarrassed. Ducking his head he tries to hide from the look on your face but you see the way his cock twitches and strains against the sticky fabric.

He wants to come again.

"Oh my sweet boy. Did you get a little too excited eating me out?" You coo, reaching out to him. "C'mere, s'my turn to take care of you."

**

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #ella writes #asks #answered #anonymous #what if i just died?? what then?? #the idea of jason coming whilst eating you out??? #top notch #also bby I love u #thank u for sending this to me

[personwhowrites]

Y/n: You two okay?

Soap staring at the wall: I don’t know y/n..seeing life is hell. We just work, eat and sleep..

Ghost: ..Is this our life?

Y/n: your drunk aren’t you?

—

Price: Why did you eat a damn battery?!

Y/n throwing up in the bathroom: Because it’s the best way to power myself for your team bullshit.

Price:

—

Laswell: I still think it’s call soccer..

Price: it’s Football!

Gaz: Should we stop this argument?

Y/n: no no.. I wanna see who wins

Soap and Ghost watching everything display out:

—

Price: Now, ladies are fine, but guns..

Gaz: Definitely would pick a gun over lady.

Y/n drinking soda cross from them:

—

Y/n: where the fuck are the bandages?!

Price: I don’t know Ghost took them for something.

Soap running into the room: Guys! Look! Mummy!

Ghost walks in annoyed wrapped in the bandages: ah?

Y/n and Price:

—

Y/n: you two are childish.

Soap: *Dramatic gasp * We are not!

Y/n: Them get out the fucking tank!

Ghost: no.

Soap: *closes the hatch to the tank*

Y/n: Mother fuckers.. Price! They are in the tank again!

Price: I don’t get paid enough for this shit..

—

Gaz: Y/n what is your dream guy?

Ghost listens carefully

Y/n: Well.. I already have someone

Gaz: Really who?

Y/n: *pulls out a squish mellow plushie* His name is skelly, been with him since I joined the army.

Gaz and Ghost:

Y/n: What?

—

Y/n: *drinking coffee*

Ghost: You like something warm and nice in your throat don’t you?

Y/n: *Chokes on the coffee * Excu—

Soap sitting next to Y/n also drinking coffee: Hell ya I do papi

Ghost and Y/n:

—

Alejandro: can you drive?

Y/n: ..Yeah..

Moments later

Alejandro: *holding onto dear life onto the car door*

Soap: how long has he been like that?

Y/n: couple minutes, I told him I stopped driving but he hasn’t moved.

—

Ghost: That’s gay

Soap: getting no bitches is gayer.

Y/n: OH HE GOT YOU THERE!

Ghost:

—

Price: Y/n it has come time..for yo—

Y/n: to quit? Because this team is pure chaos.

Price: it is not

Y/n Points to Gaz and Soap eating a bandages as Ghost times them.

Price:

—

Y/n: what’s your worst fear?

Soap: A loving ghost.

Ghost over hearing the conversation

Next day

Soap: *running for his life*

Ghost walking after him with his arms open: come back here! I want hug you buddy!

Y/n: ..that is scary..

—

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #alejandro vargas #john soap mactavish #kate laswell #john price #cod mw22 #cod #cod x you #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod fandom #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #mwii

[reallyromealone]

Title: slice of life

Fandom: apothecary diaries

Pairing Jinshi x maomao + baby reader

Warnings: child reader, baby reader, fluff, cute, platonic (obviously), slice of life

Notes: none

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

(name) gave a big stretch as he was held by his mom, maomao having the babe in her lap as she went over papers, the once commoner now wife of the Emperor's brother was pleased that she could continue doing what she loved though she did have to stop ingesting poisons for her beloved son who loved being helpful in his own way, the Apothecary often gave him little toy versions of her tools so he could learn even if he was only eight months.

"Let's go see your papa, yes?" Maomao said to her son, a warmness she didn't extend to many people-- hell her own husband didn't even get that level of warmness unless it was on special occasion.

It was strange for people to see her dressed as someone of such high class, her old friends bowing at her with a smile as she went to look for her husband. Everyone looked at (name) fondly, recently the boy had learned to wave and decided that everyone needed to be waved at no matter what class, maomao smiling softly at the boys antics "you are just like your father" her words fond as the boy patted her face, he had his smile that was for sure.

Jinshi was absolutely thrilled to see the two "you came to see me~" he teased and maomao kept a passive Expression "no, we were just passing by" a total lie but it was enough to make the other pout in annoyance before gently taking (name) and holding him close, letting the boy hold his finger in his tiny hand and doted on the babe who babbled, maomao would rather die than admit she found the scene absolutely heartwarming. (Name) loved his parents, the two always gave their full attention to him and included him in many things.

"I was thinking of having him visit my father..." Maomao said absentmindedly as the babe tried grabbing his dad's hair "you wanna see your grandpa, little one?" (Name) perked up at the mention of 'grandpa' and began bouncing slightly "eeea!" He squealed and that was their answer "I'll make the necessary preparations, maybe we can visit him on our way to our holiday, yes?"

Jinshi kept his face hidden, the babe confused but didn't cry or anything when seeing his father look strange "dad! We're here" the older man looked up from his grinding stone to see his grandson smack his little hands together and reach from maomao to him "my, you grown" he mused and took the boy "you look just like my maomao" he whispered to the boy as the two parents watched, Jinshi had taken it upon himself to get maomaos adoptive father a better living situation, upgrade some stuff for the apothecary.

"He's been figuring out walking, soon he will be all over the place" jinshi said fondly and the older man chuckled "Maomao was a speedy baby, she would want to see everything"

They stayed for half hour, having tea the Jinshi brought for his father in law as (name) munched on a small tiny portion of a treat, resting on his mother's chest content.

"He's so peaceful when he's eating" jinshi teased his son who barely paid attention, focused on his tiny bit of honey as his mom fixed his hair "he will surely cause chaos when he's older, like his father"

"Hey!"

(Name) paid the adults no mind as he glanced around, the home always warmer when they were always together, the boy sliding down from his mom's hold when he spotted his toys, crawling towards them happily "he's growing fast" the two parents felt their hearts warm at their little one who played so sweetly "he's going to be quite a good man when he's older" (name) turned his little butt around to see his parents before surprising everyone, standing shakily in his two little chunky legs and attempting to walk to maomao with his little "I want food" whine "my, were going to have to lock things away it seems" maomao teased as (name) smacked her chest lightly with a huff "I think this is our queue to leave" jinshi said as maomao hugged her dad, taking little (name) out of the home, a much nicer one as a "thank you for letting me marry your daughter" gift.

"Mama!" (Name) said angrily as they got in the carriage "yesyes, you little brat" she teased as jinshi watched.

He was definitely his father's son.

#the apothecary diaries x reader #the apothecary diaries #the Apothecary diaries x male reader #jinshi x male reader #jinshi x reader #maomao x jinshi #maomao x reader #fluff #male reader #x male reader #child male reader #baby male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader