#i usually don’t eat sugar so it’s not too bad

[anastasiabowe]

𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙏𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏?! — Toji your MMA fighting husband wasn’t a man of pure morals. He often teaches his son, Megumi, not so great things for a little child, and you got a taste of what he was teaching him, and you were not happy.

note: Enjoy

Content warnings: Language and swearing in front of a child

Soft thumping grew louder as little Megumi waddled himself down to the basement, or your home gym. Toji put the weights back on the rack, since he was ending his morning workout. He looked up and saw his little boy walk up to him.

Megumi looked up as high as he could to make eye contact with his dad.

“What’s up, bud?” Toji grabbed the towel near by, and ruffled his hair with it, trying to dry the sweat that was dripping from his hair.

“Can I ask you something?” The little raspy voice confidently spoke.

“Sure, what is it?” Toji sat down on the bench, and pulled the boy onto his knee.

“What do you do when the bad guys you fight make-" megumi coughed, "make you mad?”

Toji stared blankly at his son. Where was he going with this?

"bad guys?" Toji asked the little boy.

"yeah! Bad guys, the guys you fight!" He pushed his little fists out into the air to kick the little clips you've shown him of his dad during a match.

“Why?” Toji asked skeptical.

“Just curious.” he blinked so innocently.

“Why?” Toji asked again.

“Can you just answer?” The little boy whined and sighed heavily, making Toji want to laugh.

“Well, when they make me upset, I usually use that anger to fight them.”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “I already know that, daddy. But what do you do?”

Toji thought carefully. Should he be blunt, should he sugar coat it?

“Well, I usually try and knock them to their feet to weaken them, then try and knock them out.”

“Can you show me?” Megumi smiled thinking about how cool his dad was.

“On you?” Toji looked at the mini him.

Megumi shrugged and hopped off his lap.

Toji laughed and stood up. He walked Megumi over to the mat that covered the entirety of the floor. Toji got into a fighting stance, encouraging Megumi to copy.

Once Megumi was in “position” Toji softly kicked his foot into Megumi a left leg that he was pushing his weight on and made the little boy fall out of balance.

Megumi giggled, and Toji helped the little boy up to his feet.

“Again!”

“Nah, let me show you something else.”

Once Megumi was in position again, Toji brought his fists very gently to megumi’s jaw. He lightly tapped there with his fist and said,

“I usually try to hit here. Yeah it can break someone’s jaw, but I prefer to win, and winning isn’t always the nicest way. But if anyone makes you upset, just give them a little punch here, and you’ll be the coolest kid on the block, okay?”

Megumi smiled, and punched his dad in the abdomen. Although his tiny fists didn’t even land enough impact for a sting, Toji pretended like it hurt, and fell to the ground, Megumi jumping and punching on his dad.

-

-

-

“Megumi baby, come up to eat!” You called down the stairs, and you heard him yell a little “okay!”

“Toji, you too!”

“I’ll be up there in a minute, I got to finish my workout!” Toji lied. He truthfully just wanted to be down there and watch his opponent for his upcoming match latest fight, get some details on him, but he didn't want to hear you lecture him on how he should save his research for when he's at work.

Megumi soon came up for lunch, and you gave him his plate of Mac and cheese, with applesauce and mixed vegetables.

Megumi gratefully ate only the apple sauce and Mac and cheese.

You thought the vegetable hatred from kids was an exaggeration because you never had any problems with it, but here is your own child outright refusing to eat his veggies.

“Megumi. This is not a game, eat your vegetables or you don’t get any dessert today.” Megumi rolled his eyes, making you scoff. He was turning into his father.

“Megumi..” you warned. He only challenged you more by sticking his tongue out.

“No iPad for 2 days.”

Megumi still held his ground. You clicked your nails on the table across from him, waiting for those broccoli, peas, corn and carrots to be eaten.

“We will sit here until you eat them.”

“Bite me.” Megumi bit back. If he wasn’t a little kid that you loved too much, he wouldn’t even know what was coming for him.

“Excuse me?” You looked at him in disbelief. You stood up and walked around the table and sat next to him. You grabbed his fork and stabbed the vegetables.

“Open your mouth. You want to act like a a baby, I will treat you like one.” You moved the fork closer to his mouth, he turned his face and you were becoming angrier by the second.

“Open. Your mouth.” Your voice was as stern as it was going to be, and here is your child not fearing you at all.

You grabbed his face as gently as you could, but strong enough to force open his mouth. You quickly tried to put the fork into his mouth but then you felt a solid fist hit your jaw, and it hurt (somewhat).

Megumi just punched you in the jaw. You grabbed your jaw and dropped the fork onto the table.

Tears welled in your eyes, not from pain, but from the shock and anger from your child just hitting you.

Megumi’s face was full of fear and regret, and you only clenched your jaw.

Fucking Toji always teaching him shit. You took a deep breath and stood up calmly. You grabbed megumi’s wrist and dragged him with you as you made your way down to the basement.

“Toji fucking fushiguro.” You yelled out to your husband when you finally made it to the basement ground. He looked up from his phone, and your anger was illuminating from you.

You angrily stopped walking, Megumi hiding behind you.

“What the fuck did you teach Megumi?!” Toji looked between you and Megumi, and he was actually so confused.

“What do you mean ‘what did I teach megumi’? What the hell are you talking about?” Toji pulled out his AirPod, and you wanted to light something on fire.

“Did you teach him to hit his mom or is that all on him?” Toji scoffed knowing where this is coming from.

“Megumi.” Toji’s voice growled as Megumi gripped harder onto your sweat pants.

“Come here.” Toji’s voice was now deeper and more demanding. It wasn’t loud nor condescending, it was rather scarily calm.

Megumi slowly came from behind you, and you crossed your arms, ready to hear what he was going to say.

“Megumi, did you hit mommy?” Toji softly grabbed the little boy’s hands and pulled him closer. He looked down at his feet. “Look at me when I am speaking to you.” Toji cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean to, she was making me mad!” Megumi tried to excuse. You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Toji looked up at you, and you licked your lips, calming yourself down. He was only 5.

“Megumi, you know you can’t just hit people when you’re mad, especially mommy.” Megumi whispered a little “I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Toji tightened his grip on his hands a little. “If you think what I taught you today is an excuse for when you’re mad, it wasn’t. It should only be applied for my circumstance with professional practice. I'm sorry if what I said confused you, but you do not just hit people when you're mad, I don’t just hit people when I’m mad, I know how to and when to, you don’t.”

Megumi’s eyes were wide with tears welling in them. Toji couldn’t help but think how much he looked like you right now. You both made the same face when you're sad.

“I’m sorry.” Megumi softly said.

“Don’t apologize to me.” Toji let go of megumi’s hands and megumi softly turned around. He rushed over to you and hugged your legs, wiping his teary face into your sweats.

“I’m sorry mommy! I shouldn’t have hit you! I promise I won’t ever never ever hit anyone again!” You smiled softly, picking up the little boy.

“Mommies not mad anymore, baby. I just want you to grow big and strong by eating your veggies, that’s all. So are you going to finish your vegetables for me?”

Megumi sniffled and nodded. You kissed his face repeatedly making him giggle.

Toji stood up and followed you both. After all, it was lunch time.

#toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji and megumi #baby megumi #mom reader #jjk #fluff

[coryosbaby]

Feels like Sugar in Me

[Ethan Landry x bimbo! Reader]

— “ I think you’re perfect.”

Summary: Ethan is insecure about his costume, and you help him think otherwise. (Translation : You and your roommate Ethan give each other head after a Halloween party.)

Warning: a little bit of angst & a lot of fluff, insecurities // oral (m & f recieving), cunnilingus, pussy eating, cum play, mommy kink, handjobs, spit kink, fingering, lots of praise, dom! Reader, sub! virgin! Ethan

He’s the most precious little thing, dressed in his knight costume with his cardboard hat. You think he’s adorable. He frowns when your friends make fun of him, but you just kiss his cheek and defend him with everything you have. He’s your Ethan, after all, and no one should talk bad about the angel you have as your roommate.

And when you’re finally home, when your discarded fairy wings are somewhere off in your bedroom, you take a seat on the couch. Ethan comes out, freshly showered and smelling oh so delicious, like usual. He smiles softly when he sees you there, fairy costume gone, clad in a pink see through robe and— is that lingerie, underneath? Maybe it is; Ethan is used to you wearing such revealing things, and although he tries not to stare it drives him crazy every single time. You don’t mind showing yourself off to Ethan. You trust him to be respectful to you, and you aren’t one to shy away from showing off your body. And why wouldn’t you be? You’re perfect.

You shuffle through a container of leftover vanilla ice cream. Your hair is pulled back away from your face (Ethan has always liked it that way). He offers to order a pizza for the night, and you say yes. You both turn on Halloween because Ethan knows it’s your favorite, and he brings out your favorite blanket when you come back from changing into your pjs because he knows it keeps you warm.

“You’re the sweetest.” You coo to him, as you rest your head against the boys shoulder. It’s a reflex, at this point. You both watch movies a lot, and he enjoys when you rest on him.

“I try to be..” Ethan shyly murmurs. And you giggle as you think back the night.

“You made such a cute little knight.”

Ethan scoffs, but a blush stains the apple of his cheeks at your words. “Yeah, I bet.”

“I’m serious!” You grin, your fingers going up to stroke his soft curls.

“It was terrible.”

“I liked your costume!” You start, as Ethan protests that the night was the suckiest Halloween yet.

“That’s a lie, y/n!” Ethan’s voice is embarrassed as he laughs. “It was horrible. Absolutely.. vile.”

“Vile? That’s a weird way to put it.” You tease. And then you’re frowning at the way the boy avoids your gaze. “But you looked great, E. You know.. I always think you look great.”

He nervously looks over at you, a small smile moving across his plump lips. “Really?”

“Really really. You’re the prettiest boy I know.”

You know it’s probably not something you should say to your supposed best friend, but you can’t help it.

“You really think so?”

“I think you’re perfect.”

It comes out slow and soft, and your body becomes alight with electricity when you realize how close you and the boy in front of you are. He’s looking at you with his lip caught in between his teeth.

“I think you’re perfect, too.” He replies.

You smile. Heat gathers between your legs at the sight of the boys tousled hair, pretty Bambi eyes and biceps bulging out of his shirt.

You kiss him.

It’s a surprise to you both, when the soft plumpness of his lips touch yours. He tastes like ice cream, mouth a bit cold from the sugary treat and laced with a vanilla flavor. He’s awkward, you notice. He’s never kissed anyone before.

When you pull away his eyes are still closed. He’s got a dopey smile on his face, as if he’s just got a taste of his favorite drug.

“I liked that,” Ethan murmurs. A small giggle escapes your lips. Your fingers graze his jaw.

“I was hoping you would.”

He flashes a nervous smile, and then he’s darting his eyes away from you again.

“Can you— can you do it again?”

“If you want,” you suggest. He nods, bringing his palms up to your shoulders.

“I do,” he infers. “I want you to— to do whatever you want to me.”

He doesn’t know exactly how to communicate in times like these. You just chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. He sighs.

“I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?”

He nods eagerly, and he grabs your hips. It’s clumsy, a little bit of an anxious movement, but you place your hands over his and press into your love handles harder. You move into his lap, and a small sound of surprise escapes him.

You don’t hesitate to kiss him again. It’s just as perfect as the first, and you can feel him poking into your inner thigh. Ethan throbs underneath his pajama pants at your touch.

His hands are in your hair, now. Soft palms scrape against your scalp as his lips move jaggedly against you, his chest pressed against the swell of your breasts. He squeaks, then pulls away and asks if he can see your tits. An immediate yes sounds from you, and when you remove your robe and unclip your bra, they’re exposed to the room. Ethan’s eyes can only be described in one word — entranced.

He looks hungry, and his mouth doesn’t hesitate to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasp, running your hands through his curls and giving them a soft tug. He whines, bucking his hips up.

“Needy boy,” you tease. He agrees solemnly.

“‘M hard,” he murmurs. You laugh at his obviousness.

“Yeah, honey, I noticed that.”

“Can you make it go away?”

He looks up at you and kneads your tits softly in his palms. You can’t say no to that.

“‘Course I will,” you say. You move back and begin to run your fingers along the awaiting bulge, and he breathes heavily. “Can I see it?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah— anythin’ for you.”

His pants go down, down, down. He isn’t wearing underwear, and his thick length slaps up to his stomach when he moves his waistband down to his thick thighs. Your mouth waters. You’ve never seen such a pretty cock.

Ethan is panting, nervous.

“Do you like it?” He asks, hopeful.

“You’re gorgeous.” You say, in awe. “Fucking perfect. So big..”

He keens at the compliment, and when your hand moves down to his hardening cock and tugs on the base, he pulls away from you and his mouth drops open. You give him a gentle stroke. He moans.

“I.. I like that.” He whimpers out. Precum drips down him like a leaking faucet. He’s so wet.

“Yeah?” A soft moan escapes him when your thumb brushes over his reddened tip. His head tilts back in ecstasy. “You sound so pretty, E. I bet this cock sounds even prettier when it’s inside someone, doesn’t it?”

He shakes his head, aggressive and too concentrated on the pleasure you’re giving him to give a solid answer.

“Never.. I’ve never f-“ a harsh twist of your wrist and he’s keening, a small mewl leaving his plump lips. “Oh my god, please…”

“You’ve never done this before?” Your tone is a teasing lilt. “Never fucked a warm, wet pussy? Hm?”

“Want yours…”

It comes out whiny and desperate. Your mound clenches, empty and aching for Ethan’s poor virgin cock to fill you up. Your tongue lolls out when you look down and see his girthy length again. You sink to your knees, then, and the boy whines in an abrupt protest.

“Come back..”

“In a minute, baby. Let me taste you first.”

Taking his tip against your lips, you press a light kiss to him. He keens, makes a sound low in his throat, and threads his fingers into your hair. You run your tongue along his head and begin to lap up the precum leaking from him. He tastes absolutely divine, and your hands grasp his thighs harshly when you down his cock in one go.

He spasms, and gasps softly. He’s never felt this kind of sensation, and it’s all so new to him that it has his toes curling. You look up at him, so lovingly and angelic, and give him a special look he can’t quite place. He begins to speak, precious mouth running wild at the sight of the girl of his dreams taking his cock.

“God, that’s good..” And then, “Y’look so beautiful…”

If your mouth wasn’t full, you would be smiling right now. His touch in your hair is a firm grip, and it makes your scalp sting a little. But you know he doesn’t mean it. He’s never done this before, after all.

His smell and taste evades your senses; it’s hard to think, and even though you have this muscular boy moaning and whimpering underneath you, your head becomes cloudy and desperate.

You need him to cum.

That’s all you can gather, right now. You need to feel him running down your throat. So you pull off of him with a pop and continue stroking him with fervor. Your eyelashes flutter as you look up at him.

“Be a good boy, sweetheart,” you coo. His eyes widen, face flushing a deep crimson. You smile. “Let me taste your cum. Fuck my throat and let me have you.”

His fingers thread through your hair again; he’s gentle and firm all at once. His hair is mussed, his eyes full of wanting. And when his tip bumps against the softness of your lips, you open wide and let him back inside you again. He tries to be gentle, makes sure that you aren’t taking too much at once, even though you’re the experienced one and he isn’t. It’s endearing.

“Momma…”

It comes out in a soft and sultry whisper, as Ethan’s cock throbs on your tongue. Looking up at him, his doe eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is open in a widened look of awe and shock at the feelings evading him. His thighs are shaking. He’s already about to cum.

Hands going to squeeze his balls, you moan when he thrusts his hips against your mouth. He begins to pummel your throat over and over again, soft whimpers leaving his precious mouth, hair messily strewn across his forehead and drenched with sweat. On a particular choke and tightening of your entrance, he groans loudly, and then he’s creaming on the very next thrust of his hips. His tip quakes at the feeling of your spongey walls, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

“Yes, yes! mommymommymommy—“

He chants the name like a prayer, whining and crying at the intensity of his orgasm. The taste of his cum hits your taste buds, and your core throbs. You’ve never been much of a swallower, but it’s Ethan, so although salty and bitter and thick, you want more of his cum pumping down your throat so bad that you almost can’t breathe. You swallow all of it, popping off of him and licking the excess up with your tongue and spitting back out onto him again. He moans desperately, the overstimulation making his cock ache but in the most amazing way. You let his cum drip down to his base, and then to his balls. You wipe your mouth and move back up to lay down on the couch. You’re quick to remove your panties. Ethan gapes at your exposed cunt, lips swollen and clit poking out between them. He makes a move to taste you, the puddle of cum drenching his lap forgotten. You mewl when his lips meet your pussy. He presses a soft kiss to your hole, then one of your lips. He’s trying to find your clit.

His big hands wrap around your thighs and pull him closer. The couch is small and it’s at a bit of an awkward angle: you laying down, Ethan leaning over his own lap. But neither of you care. You smile at his virginal attempt at pussy eating, but you just use his hair to pull him towards where you want him. When his tongue runs over that familiar bundle of nerves, you sigh out a praise.

“Yeah, baby. That’s my clit— riiiight there. You’re such a good learner.”

He moans, and his eyes flutter closed as he begins to eat your pussy like a man starved. He’s sloppy and wet with it, and his spit soaks your cunt and drips down your asscheeks.

Your eyes are rolling back in pleasure. You feel something graze your entrance and— it’s his fingers, and fuck, you’re already about to cum. Those fingers hesitate, then leave you for a moment. You hear a slick sound, and then they’re pressing against you again.

But this time, they’re wet.

He’s using his cum to lube you up. You can feel the thick substance seat itself inside you when he sinks his index finger in to the hilt. He wiggles it around a bit, tongue grazing your swollen nub and then roaming around your entrance. You cry out when his one finger hits that space inside you.

“Right there!” You moan. He groans, working on that one spot while he adds another finger. Your pussy is incredibly loud, gushing all over his hand as he fingers your sopping cunt. And with one last flick of his tongue, your orgasm is washing over you in gigantic waves. Your let out a loud gasp, Ethan’s name spilling from your lips over and over as he continues to penetrate you with his fingers and tongue.

When he pulls away his face is covered in your spend.

“Did I do good?” He asks, curious.

“Did great, baby,” you praise. “You’re such a good boy.”

The tips of his ears turn red from your compliment, and then he’s guiding his tongue back in between your legs to get another taste of you. Your hands go back to his hair again, and you rut your hips into your face.

“Gooooood, baby. Get that fucking face wet.”

And with that, Ethan’s cock twitches and he continues to worship your cunt like it’s his God.

A/n: thank you for 4k followers. I love you all.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x fem! reader #sub! Ethan landry #scream #scream 6 #scream iv #scream vi #Ethan landry x bimbo! reader #bimbo! reader #dom! reader

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 8 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, obligatory breeding kink, pregnancy, Reader has a baby bump, we're basically extra horny for Eddie thanks to second-trimester hormones

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

August 1999

“I’ll have…” Harris Munson peers over the Scoops Ahoy counter, nose almost pressed against the glass, “…a scoop of mint chocolate chip with strawberry sauce and…mini marshmallows. Please,” he adds with an enthusiastic smile. 

Eddie contorts his face into a disgusted expression. “Seriously, Har?” He turns to you with the expectation that you’ll back him up like you usually do when Harris tries experimenting with weird ice cream concoctions. 

“Actually,” you muse, grinning down at Harris and absentmindedly resting your hands on your bump, “that doesn’t sound half bad. I think I’ll do the same.”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie interjects, shaking his head in disappointment and disbelief. “No way. You don’t even like mint ice cream; you said it reminds you of toothpaste.”

“I know,” you shrug, digging your wallet from your bag and fishing out some cash, “but the baby thinks it’s delicious.”

He rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyelids. “Christ. And what about the strawberry sauce and marshmallows? Does the baby want those, too?”

You huff out an exasperated sigh, cocking a brow in a feeble attempt at intimidation. “Are you telling your pregnant wife what she can and cannot eat?” 

“Yeah!” Harris glances up at his dad. “She can eat whatever Baby Brother wants her to eat.”

“Fine, fine,” Eddie takes his cup of Rocky Road from the poor cashier forced to listen to this banter. “But if anyone asks, I don’t know either of you.” His brown doe eyes shift back and forth between you and Harris. 

You pay the cashier and hand Harris his ice cream before collecting your own. Magenta syrup drips down the bright green scoop, tiny marshmallows cascading downwards in a sugary avalanche. You sink your spoon into it and take a bite, savoring the flavors that shouldn’t complement each other, but pregnancy cravings have eschewed all logic and reason. 

“So, Mr. Almost Second-Grader,” you say to Harris, who seems to be enjoying his Franken-Dessert as much as you are, “are you excited for school to start in a few weeks?”

Harris shoots you the same grimace that Eddie gave him when he’d placed his ice cream order. “Nah, I don’t like homework. And this year, we gotta learn how to do adding and subtracting with even bigger numbers.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been practicing with flashcards all summer,” you remind him, pushing a napkin in his direction so he can wipe his face. “You’re super prepared.”

“I guess.” 

He still doesn’t seem too excited, so you try another tactic. “And you, Joshua, and Charlie are in the same class again this year.”

His eyes light up at this. “Oh, yeah!” He leans into his ice cream and attempts to lick up a marshmallow with only his tongue, sending it careening across the table and plopping onto the tile floor unceremoniously.

“God help that teacher,” Eddie mutters under his breath, sparkling eyes meeting yours for just a moment, but it’s enough to send a shiver of delight down your spine that is wholly unrelated to the frozen dessert you’re devouring.

You and Eddie curl up on the couch later that evening, clicking the remote’s channel button until you land on a rerun of something you can both agree on. Harris’s input is null and void; he’s tucked into bed after experiencing the sugar rush–and crash–of a lifetime.

Eddie stretches, draping one arm over your shoulders, his fingertips grazing the swell of your right breast. It may be accidental, but there’s no denying the way your nipple hardens at the slight touch, especially through your thin pajama top. There’s no time for a smirk to even grace his lips before your legs are straddling his waist haphazardly, your bump making it an increasingly difficult task.

“Sh-Shit,” Eddie mumbles in between the frantic kisses you press to his lips. His hands find purchase in the flesh of your ass, squeezing reflexively. “What’s all this about, Sweetheart?”

You suck on his neck, tasting the musky remnants of his aftershave. “Need you, fuck, need you so bad.” Your hips roll against him, creating a delectable friction that sends a surge of wetness into your panties.

“Better move this into the bedroom, then.”

You assume the same position once your bodies hit the bed, pulling your tank top above your head. Eddie’s gaze lands on your bump first, his palms drawn to it like magnets. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says breathlessly, his thumbs traveling upwards to brush over your pebbled nipples. “I mean, I thought you were drop-dead gorgeous when we met, but now–”

“Less talking, more sex.” You nearly tear off his boxers, a sticky trail of pre-cum connecting him to the cotton fabric. He hisses as you grab his half-hard cock, spitting directly onto the tip and sliding your fist up and down the shaft. “Just wanna ride you.”

“Shit, okay.” Eddie laughs, pushing himself onto the pillows and tucking his hands behind his head. “All yours, Sweetheart.”

You adjust your body so you can easily sink onto him, letting him stretch you while you stifle a moan. Grabbing onto his waist, you brace yourself and slowly grind against him.

“Thassit, sweet girl.” He bites his lower lip with his top teeth, eyes rolling back as you find your pacing. He clutches your thighs, giving you the stability you need to ride him. His pelvis rises as his hips buck up with lazy thrusts. “Mmf, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Pussy was made f’me, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm.” The two syllables are all you can manage, filled with love and lust and Eddie. You want to continue in this position, but pregnancy restricts your movement and your stamina, and you know you both need more. “Can…can you…?”

Eddie grins, nodding his head and keeping a firm grasp on your upper legs. “I got you, babe. Don’t worry.” He holds you so your core remains pressed to his, snapping into you. “Always gonna take care of my girl,” he growls, accentuating each word. “Your tits have never looked better, holy hell.”

“Eddie…Eddie,” you pant, clenching around him needily. Your middle finger circles your clit, and the orgasm you’ve been chasing finally comes to fruition. Pleasure blooms in your lower belly as you continue to cry out his name. You’ve never finished this quickly before, and it takes you both by surprise. 

“Goddamn,” Eddie murmurs. “These hormones got you really sensitive, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You like it though.” It’s a statement, not a question, but you nod regardless. “Maybe I should keep you pregnant so you always feel this good. Is that what you want?”

Words escape you momentarily, but once you find them, you vehemently agree. “Y-Yes, God, yes.”

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.” His own grunts morph into whimpers as he spills within you, pistoning harshly to milk every last drop. Sweat beads on his forehead. “Sweetheart, that was…holy shit.” He whines when you pull yourself off of him, but you muffle it with a kiss. The plushness of his lips stir another fire inside you, and your fingers begin another descent through his coarse pubic hair to his softening length. “H-Honey, what are you—”

“Round two,” you exhale, already rubbing yourself against his thigh, desperate for stimulation. “Please, baby? How else are you gonna keep me pregnant?”

Eddie’s whole body freezes at this, a smile splitting his face. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I ever resist?” 

--

#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 #smut

[holylulusworld]

Big grumpy bear (1)

Summary: He’s grumpy. You are sweet. A match made in heaven.

Pairing: Alpha!Walter Marshall x OmegaReader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, grumpy alpha, scenting, fluff

Big grumpy bear masterlist

“Here’s your coffee, and I got you bagels and cookies too,” you smile sweetly at the new detective. “I thought you were hungry after interrogating the suspect for so long.”

“What?” Walter furrows his brows. He was engrossed in reading the pathology report again. “I didn’t ask you to bring me cookies.”

Your smile never falters. Walter is a big grumpy alpha, but you are not going to let him starve only because he’s too proud to accept your help and the food you got him.

“Your blood sugar is too low,” you tut and place the coffee on his desk. Walter knits his brows together. He huffs and grabs the coffee. “Let me unpack the bagels and cookies for you.”

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” He questions while surveilling your every move. Walter shakes his head as you get a pink Hello Kitty plate out of your bag. “Why are you carrying plates in your bag?”

Walter grunts as his colleagues stop working and start watching you hover over him like a mother hen.

“For emergencies,” you shrug and continue. You place the plate in front of him. You open a food container and place two bagels, an apple, and a few cookies on his plate. “Eat up. You’ll need the energy for the interrogation. If you need more, just holler.”

“Do you want to brush my hair and change my sheets too?” He cocks his head to look you up and down before grabbing one of the bagels and taking a huge bite. Walter hums as the bagel is the best he ever had. “Not bad. Where did you buy it?”

“Uh-it’s homemade. Do you like it? It’s smoked salmon, cream cheese, and dill.” You grin as Walter wolfs down the first bagel. He munches loudly but acts as if he doesn’t enjoy your food. “I got more if you are still hungry. You’re a tall alpha and need enough food.”

“Enough…what?” He rolls his eyes. You hum and close the food container to carry it toward your office. “What are you up to?”

“I’m only taking care of you. You don’t take good care of yourself. So, I’ll do it for you,” you smile and pat his shoulder. “I’m at my office, to analyze the video surveillance.”

“Fuck,” Walter curses as you grab the food container to walk toward your office. “What has gotten into her?” He watches you close the door behind you. “She’s always so cheerful and annoyingly sweet.”

“Morning,” you chirp as Walter walks inside your office without knocking. He looks at your desk, rolling his eyes at all the nick-nacks you placed on your desk. “What can I do for you detective?”

“I-uh,” he glances at your pink mouse and keyboard. “I need you to check on the witness evidence for me. Here’s the paperwork.” Walter hands you the papers but doesn’t leave as usual. He takes his time to walk around your office and sniffs in all directions.

“You can have a seat if you want to,” You dip your head to watch him inhale deeply, he purrs and turns back around to look at you. “Or do you want a cookie or snack? I always got something in my secret dash.”

He sighs deeply as he plops down onto your desk, making the wood creek under his weight. “You have been courting me for weeks, didn’t you?”

Walter looks at you, fighting the smile wanting to creep onto his face as you nod slowly.

“I was worried about your eating habits at first, but then…” You trail off. “You looked so lost, and I knew you needed someone to take care of you.”

You get up from your swivel chair to pat his cheek. Walter huffs but allows you to stand between his legs. “Go ahead, tell me how you got the idea that I’m lost and in need of an omega taking care of me.”

You touch his chest, index finger pointing at the hole in his sweater.

“We should start with your sleeping habits, and then I’ll help you eat healthier. Oh, and no more running around in torn clothes. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

He smirks as you run your hand over his chest. “Fine, under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You let me take care of you from now on too,” he cups your face with his large hands. “In any way…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #Big grumpy bear #alpha!Walter Marshall x Omega!Reader #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter one: on my way to circle k

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.3k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

The Slurpee machine is broken again. 

It isn’t that big of an issue, not particularly world-ending, no, especially since you get regularly held at gunpoint (or knifepoint) and occasionally used as a hostage. 

But for you, working the night shift from eleven PM to seven AM, you kind of need the sugar boost. The Slurpees are easier on your stomach than the coffee is. Even if they do stain your mouth. 

You sigh, continuing to stare at the machine; it whirs and sputters strangely and you set aside the cup to shut it off. You’ll also need to file the paperwork for it to be fixed. That seriously blows. 

You get it unplugged just as the gust of wind hits. 

You stumble. Shelves groan in protest. Several rows of granola bars and trail mix are sent flying. 

Oh, great, who is it now—

You hear your name in a question, from a very familiar voice. 

You spit out a mouthful of your hair. “Flash?”

Sure enough, in the flesh, the Flash grins at you, blue lightning fading from his body. He spreads his arms as he exclaims your name again.

In a blink, he is there, arms wrapping around you, lifting you off the ground as he squeezes the life out of you. Another blink and you’re on the ground, looking at him, his hand on your shoulder. 

“Look at you, kid. It’s good to see you. I can’t believe you’re still working here.”

A stupid grin forms on your lips. “It’s not the same here without you eating up our inventory.”

He laughs. “I bet!”

You shake your head, fixing your hair and your shirt. Flash notices the state of the granola bars and trail mix, sends you an apologetic smile, and in the next blink, they are back on the shelves, neatly arranged. 

“So, what brings you here? If you can answer that.”

He waves a hand, flitting around, emptying the sausage grill and making himself several hot dogs. 

“One of the rogues got a little, shall we say, ambitious and wanted to try his luck here. Just trying to snatch him up before Batman finds out.”

“Let me guess—Trickster?”

He points a hot dog loaded with mustard and ketchup at you. “Bingo.”

“It’s dripping.”

“Aw, shit.” He shoves the rest of the hot dog in his mouth, grabs a napkin, and starts dabbing at the spot of mustard on his suit. 

You watch him, amused, but also morbidly fascinated as usual at seeing him eat so much. When he finishes the hot dogs, he goes for the pizza. It makes sense when you think about it, that a guy who can run faster than the speed of light should need to eat so much, but it’s been a while since you’ve had the pleasure of watching him refuel. Six months, actually, since you returned from Keystone City. 

You scratch your head. “I’m not sure why Trickster would want to come here. Batman, I think, is a worse punishment than you—”

“Agree, even if that’s also a little insulting to me.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. You’re avoiding him, aren’t you?”

Flash nods. “This is true. Carry on.”

“Well… Gotham already has a joke-themed guy. I don’t think Joker is going to take too kindly to someone encroaching on that. Unless he’s back in Arkham. Though he might’ve escaped again…”

“Y’see, that’s what I thought. It’s gonna sound bad, too, but I’m kinda hoping those two take care of each other, then I can get Trickster back to Iron Heights without any issues. But—”

You crack a smile, guessing his next words immediately. “When is it ever that easy?”

You had once believed the Flash to be just about infallible. After all, he is the Flash. This is the guy who, like you said, can run faster than the speed of light. He can canvas a city in under a minute. That’s how he takes care of Central City and Keystone City. (Well, the addition of the other Flash and Kid Flash probably help, too, but you know.)

But it’s not that easy. It’s why, you think, Metropolis has issues, even when they have Superman. 

No rest for the wicked and all. 

“Well, it’s still good to see you,” you say, a tad more hesitantly this time. Unsure if you can say that. 

Flash looks back at you, sending you a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, too. How’s school?”

“No classes now. Financial aid doesn’t cover the summer, so.”

He frowns. “You’re still on track to graduate next year, though, right?”

You pause, surprised he remembered you saying that. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” 

Flash nods, worries assuaged, then his gaze strays to the Slurpee machine, its lights turned off. “Aw, it’s not working?”

“Not today, sorry.”

He purses his lips, head tilting as he looks at the counter where the machine and your abandoned cup are. 

“Wait a second,” he says, then the food that was in his hands is on the counter and he’s gone with arcs of blue lightning following him, a tingly feeling spreading through your fingertips and toes, like when you used to be a kid and dragged your hands across those old TV screens, feeling the static. 

True to his word, in the next second, he is in front of you, two Slurpees in hand. One blue raspberry and another cherry. 

You grin as he proudly presents the blue raspberry Slurpee to you. 

“Thanks.”

He winks. “My pleasure.”

He collects his food again then gestures to the front with his head. Sipping at the ice-cold Slurpee, you follow him, sliding behind the counter.

“Time to head off?” you guess, ringing up the food he already ate, then the rest of the stuff. 

He slips out a few bills from a hidden pocket at his hip. “Yeah, I need to go before—”

“Flash!” The door opens roughly. You balk as you see who it is. “Seriously? You can’t just run off. You’re just as bad as Impulse sometimes, I swear.”

Red Robin stands there, hands on his hips, scowling, doing a good impression of a teacher scolding a student, which is really weird for you, since you’ve always held a good dose of fear and respect for the Bats and this doesn’t really… go on par with that. And also, you’re pretty sure Flash is older than him. 

Flash frowns. “Now that’s seriously uncalled for. I’m much better than he is. We were done talking, weren’t we? You’d call me if you found anything and it’s not like it would take me time to get there, would it?”

Red Robin doesn’t respond to that, mostly because he’s looking at you now. You’ve never seen him up close — any of them up close. Black fair falls sharply over his forehead, a black domino mask hiding his eyes. Not like a normal one; this one allows for more coverage under his eyes, going down to his nose, the end of which curves in a way reminiscent of a bird. But under the bright fluorescents of Circle K, everything else is easy to make out. Pale skin, a sharp jaw, a soft-looking mouth. 

Great. He’s hot. And something else… something that niggles at you. Familiar in a way that bothers you because you’ve never seen him in person. Not like this. 

You swallow nervously, giving him a half-hearted wave. The action jars him and he looks away from you quickly. 

“Hey, don’t be mean to her,” Flash chides. “Seriously. Look at her. You’ve made her nervous.”

“Flash.”

He shoots you a troublesome grin. “Nah, don’t worry about him, kid. He’s harmless.”

“Flash,” Red Robin hisses out, his voice sounding stranger than before, modulated, in a way. 

You compose yourself, giving Flash a look. “You know better than that. Perception means everything.”

“That is true,” he says. “But believe me. If fear worked as well as they’d like it to, Gotham would be the safest city in the country.”

A long-suffering sigh. Red Robin is turned away now and by the movement of his arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, exasperated. 

“Hey, I’m not wrong,” he says to him, even despite you silently waving for him to drop it. “Look, fear is fine and all. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with nurturing relationships with the people you protect. That’s what I did with you, isn’t it, kid?”

“Yeah, but I’m also not, you know, from there…”

He collects his change. “Which is why it’s even more embarrassing that these guys make you nervous and I don’t.”

Red Robin huffs. 

Flash shrugs, smirking. “Just food for thought. I’ll see you around, yeah, kiddo? Gotta get going before this guy gets annoyed enough to just tell Batman about me and then I’ll really have problems.”

Then he’s gone, blue lightning arcing in his wake. Red Robin sighs again and leaves without a word or backward glance. 

You stand there for a minute, unsure if that really happened. But the signature Slurpee cup of blue raspberry, already sweating because the June heat in Gotham is unbearable and the AC is not up to task, assures you very much that that did just happen.

A little unsteady, you take a seat on the stool, shaking your head and dragging the cup to you. 

At least you got to see Flash again.

You don’t see him again, which is what you expected. 

What you don’t expect is the appearance of Red Robin the next night. 

You’ve grown up in Gotham City. Like anyone else, you have a healthy dose of fear and respect for the vigilantes that prowl the shadows. You also, unlike Vicki Vale or any journalist or obsessive conspiracy theorist, have absolutely zero interest in interacting with them. 

Usually, interacting with them means you are in grave danger. 

(You had to unlearn some of that during your brief tenure in Keystone City; the Flash was a little bit different from them. Maybe more than a little bit…)

So, when Red Robin shows up at Circle K at half past one in the morning, you are… a tad wary. 

It doesn’t help that he seems awkwardly frozen, too, as your voice catches in the middle of your perfunctory Hi, welcome in as you realize who it is. 

For a minute, it is painfully, painfully quiet. 

“Is there something—”

“Do you have any—”

You both stop. You purse your lips. Red Robin is… blushing a little bit? Holy shit.

“Go ahead,” he says, clearing his throat after. His voice still sounds off like yesterday—modulated.

You grimace. “Sorry, I was just asking if there was something going on? Should I lock down the shop or hide or something?”

He looks briefly confused. “No? I mean, no… Everything is fine. I was just wondering if you guys had any, uh—” he seems to falter, scrambling a little bit “—hot… chocolate?”

Hot chocolate in June? What a weirdo.

You keep your face straight, though. 

Flash might’ve let you off the hook when it came to formalities but you’d be an idiot to think you could get away with that with these guys. 

He exhales the briefest laugh at something, then—you, you realize, your expression, which should be perfectly polite, what the hell. He turns his head away as a smile curls his lips. That niggling feeling—which began as soon as you realized he was here—strengthens. You push it away for a second.

“I know. Late night. Don’t like coffee, so it’s a good alternative.”

How did he—? 

Must be the detective thing.

You apologize anyway. 

“Sorry. My, uh, friend’s like that, in a way,” you say, your tongue again moving faster than your brain can grapple with. He won’t care about the fact that your friend, Tim, is like that, too. Well, Tim likes the occasional energy drink if he’s staying up late because he doesn’t like coffee. Not this hot chocolate business. But maybe? Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. Probably better than Red Bull, even if he doesn’t drink it often, maybe once or twice a month. And, anyway, it’s not the point. This guy doesn’t care. He probably couldn’t care less. You’re just trying to show him—oh, it doesn’t matter. This entire thing has gone straight to shit. All because he managed to read your judgment.

“Oh?” It’s a question but it’s a bit strangled. See? He doesn’t care. Poor guy. Probably trying to think of a way to get out of this. Well, you’ll do him one better. 

“Uh, yeah… he’s—well. Doesn’t matter. Yeah, the machine is working. It’s over there.” 

“Thanks.”

You nod and glance away, leaving him to cross to the other side of the store. You can’t help but watch him go, watching the way the heavy black cape swishes with his movements, boots soundless on the shitty tiled floors. He disappears behind the shelf, but his head is visible. A head of dark, dark hair that seems… familiar to you.

Ugh. What is with you?

It’s Red freakin’ Robin. You’ve glimpsed him and the others briefly. Shadows in the night, swinging from buildings, jumping from rooftops. Anybody who lives in Gotham long enough has seen the same. Doesn’t mean you know him enough to be this way, to be so bothered by something that won’t even come to mind.

You shake your head briefly. 

You should think more on why he’s even here.

Though, it seems obvious, given what happened yesterday night.

Flash has a way of getting beneath your skin and inciting the most childish tendencies. You imagine his little comment about trust between vigilante and citizen bothered Red Robin.

Well, rest assured, you understand the position they are in. You enjoyed the way Flash visited you but they can’t afford that. Perception is gold. It is true, in some ways, that if it were as effective as they wanted it to be, Gotham would be less crime-ridden than it currently is. 

(But that was also a conundrum with the corrupt government. So long as the systems were in place, crime would always happen, and it would take more than the Bats to fix that.)

Either way, they cannot afford for that mask to slip—metaphorically and literally.

There is a level of trust, you think, between the Bats and the people but… it’s not the same kind Flash fosters with his own. 

You feel obligated to let Red Robin know that, with that, he has no obligation to do anything out of the ordinary. 

So, that’s what you do when he comes back over to the counter, two small cups of hot chocolate in hand.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He turns forward with a five dollar bill in hand. “I can’t just not pay—”

“I’m not talking about that.” 

He is paying. You are moderately appreciative of what they do but not that appreciative. 

“So, what else is it that I don’t have to do?”

You gesture between you two. “This. Come here to try and prove the Flash wrong.”

“I’m not—”

You try to level with him. 

“It’s cool, man. He can be annoying. Annoying enough that he could make anyone want to prove him wrong. I get it. But he’s also a little bit of a doof when it comes to matters of the public. Though I’m betting he was trying to aggravate you more than anything. Either way, I get it. You have an image to keep up. Do what you have to do.”

“So, you don’t want me to come back?” Not an accusation. A genuine question.

You blink. “That’s not what I said. I don’t mind. I’m just… letting you know.”

“What do you know about it, anyway? Upholding an image? You seem very confident on the do’s and don’ts, despite being a civilian.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You guys actually refer to us non-vigilantes as civilians? Like, unironically?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you with the emotionless white lids of the domino mask, lips pressed in a line.

You smile and roll your eyes, finally taking his five and opening the register. “I’m majoring in communication with a concentration in PR. Did an internship at Quickstart Enterprises last semester working with their PR department. You can say I know a thing or two about it.”

“What year?”

“Just finished my third. Starting my final in the fall. Look, I’m not saying you have to take my advice, I just wanted you to know. That’s all. I’m not holding it against you.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

You slide his change to him. “That’s all I ask.”

He picks up the cups, says, “Keep the change,” and then, he’s gone, dark cape fluttering, his figure swallowed up by the darkness of the night. 

The only traces of his presence is the door slowly closing and the change still sitting on the counter.

These hero-types and their dramatic exits. Honestly. 

You meet the Flash in your second week of work at Circle K.

The stipend from QE covered your housing and groceries but didn’t allow for much options regarding the latter. At least not the fresh produce kind. 

So, you picked up a job at Circle K. Part-time only, which worked well with the schedule you had at QE. You typically worked evenings—not the graveyard shift you do now, which you took only because it paid better during the night—so from seven to eleven. 

The Flash was different from the Bats in that regard. While Signal worked during the day, the rest of them worked during the night. 

Flash told you he liked sleep, so he would take care of things during a reasonable hour in the evening to accommodate that, which meant you were beheld to his presence. 

Frequently.

And the first time…

You have no idea what to make of the superhero currently raiding the sausage grill.

A larger part of you is suspicious, hoping that the Flash isn’t about to come up to you and say something arrogant about not being required to pay. A lot of the cops you get say something to that effect. It takes so much willpower in you to not roll your eyes. 

But another part of you right now, the Tim part of your brain, is fascinated. Wants to ask some geeky questions about his power. Presumably, the fact that he is the fastest man alive means he has to eat a lot to sustain it, right?

Well. That one is a bit self-explanatory. At least if the way he’s stuffing his face tells you anything.

Suspicion wins out, though.

Keystone City is a nice enough city. Central City, across the river, is the same. They aren’t Gotham, that’s for sure, and sometimes you don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. 

It’s mostly that Keystone City is situated in Kansas and across the Mississippi, in Mississippi, is Central City. These regions of the country, historically conservative, make you a bit tetchy. Not at all helped by the fact that for a very long time, Keystone City was suspended in the fifties. Or rather, what they thought were the fifties. Time passed normally outside of it until the Flash fixed everything.

It gives Keystone an aesthetic old-timey vibe to it but with all the modern luxuries of the late 2010s, like phones and, you know, civil rights. 

But things have been okay, for the most part. The people you encounter here at Circle K are amiable enough. (Well, except for the cops you get. You could go without dealing with those idiots.)

Though, admittedly, between work for QE and here and trying to keep yourself fed and (mostly) rested, you haven’t gotten out much.

The Flash, though… you haven’t directly encountered him. Not in your few weeks here. Sometimes when walking to the subway, you feel the sharp gust of wind, commonly associated with him as he makes his way through the city faster than a speeding bullet, glass windows and cars rattling dangerously in the aftermath of his path. On the news, when he takes down whichever rogue woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and in the newspaper. But nothing beyond that.

People speak fondly of him, for the most part. Rumors are solid sources of information but you just can’t help but be a little bit suspicious. There is such a thing as too good to be true, after all…

You reach for your half-empty cup of blue raspberry Slurpee. Though it’s the beginning of September, summer takes longer to leave the midwest, you’ve learned, and the summers here are loads worse than ones you’ve experienced in Gotham. 

Before you can even get your mouth around the red straw, a breeze hits and you blink, finding the Flash in front of you, depositing mostly empty cartons of hot dogs onto the counter, with a few of them still full. On their way to being empty, though, as he crams more into his mouth. A cup of cherry Slurpee finishes it off.

The Flash points a half-eaten hot dog at you. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“No, no, not like that. You’ve just got this suspicion to you. This… paranoia. A paranoia that can only belong to someone from Gotham,” he says, nodding to himself. 

Well, that’s—

Hm.

A bit embarrassed to be caught out like that—because it isn’t the first time—you attempt to make up for it.

“I’m from Metropolis, actually.” 

Best to stay on the east coast. Even you couldn’t pass as someone from the west coast, like Star City or Coast City or something. 

Flash grins at you. “Liar.”

You aren’t used to this kind of playful banter. Certainly not from a literal superhero, from someone who regularly saves the world with the likes of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and more. You don’t think you expected the cold brutality the city gets from the Bats back home but… you didn’t expect this, either.

To get a much-needed sense of normalcy, you scan one of the hot dog cartons, adding them up on the screen.

“Was it that obvious? I wasn’t trying to be… I mean, I was, but, you know, I didn’t, um…”

You stop, cringing. Very eloquent and more than a little annoying, given your career choice. Can’t be like that when you get put on the spot. Even if it’s by a superhero. Especially if it’s by a superhero. Journalists are even worse, anyway…

“Relax, kid,” he laughs. “To tell you the truth, it was hard to miss but I’m sort of geared for that kind of thing, what with my choice in career.”

“Right.” You scan the Slurpee and take a drink of yours while he fiddles with some zipper in his suit. A deep red, with a purple tinge, a silver Flash symbol on his chest, and a cowl, but with the top free, showing off a shock of red hair, and his eyes still exposed. Pretty green.  

“But I do have an unfair advantage,” he goes on. “I see a similar look every time I have a League meeting.”

You blink. “The League…?”

“You should know. Your caped crusader, Batman. Of course, that’s also because he doesn’t like me—and the feeling is mutual, trust me—but, you know. Schematics. He sits right across from me and that’s all I get, this classic brand of Gothamite suspicion on top of the usual wordless Batman disapproval.”

“Should you be telling me that?”

He hands you a twenty. You pop open the register to break it. Another breeze hits and the empty cartons of hot dogs are shoved into the trash, with him eating the last one and on his way to finishing the large cup of cherry-flavored Slurpee. 

“I mean, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” you say lightly, calculating his change. “I could go to the press. Breaking News: Strife within the League. Tenuous relations between Batman and the Flash.”

“Oh, really?”

“That’s the press. A common dislike will absolutely turn into that in their headlines. They would take it and run.”

“That is true. You a journalist?” 

“Oh, no. Communications, with a concentration in public relations.”

Flash thinks on it for a second, finishing his hot dog, then the Slurpee. You partially expect him to get angry. It would be a justified reaction. He doesn’t know you and you don’t know him. You can admit that some of what you just said is a bit… imperious. Who are you to lecture him, right?

“You aren’t wrong,” he finally says, repeating his earlier words as the last hot dog carton and Slurpee cup disappear from the counter—thrown in the trash. 

“But,” he presses, accepting the change from you—a few dollars—then dropping it into your tip jar. “I know you aren’t going to take that to the press.”

“How’s that?” 

He points at you. “Because I don’t think you’re the kind of person to do that.”

“You’re appealing to my morals?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

“Not much work to be had,” you admit. “I was never going to. I was just…”

“Being nice and telling me I should watch what I say,” he finishes, grinning. “Which is true. All true. I just couldn’t help myself. What’s your name, kid?”

You tell him. He extends a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Keystone City. Hope you enjoy your stay.”

A bit bemused, you nod politely and say, “Thanks.”

Before he can say anything else, he visibly tenses, lifting a hand to the Hermes-like wings at his ears, then, in the next blink, he is gone, off to stop someone or something, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind that rattles the windows and knocks the candy from the shelves under the counter onto the ground.

Well, then.

Talk about a first impression. 

reblogs are appreciated!

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#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #dc comics x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n

[myouicieloz]

i would die for richgirl!aeri x studentathlete!reader okay? i have re-read it about 3 times today it’s so cute ajdjakfkakdkskdkkdn yn being an accidental sugar baby is everything to mr

now that I've lurked around my notes for a bit, I realized I actually have a few prompts for that lol, so why not share them right ˆˆ anyways:

richgirl!aeri x studentathlete!reader pt. 2

pt.1

Giselle was needy; her hands were often found on your waist or brushing your neck, not quite teasing— just touching your skin affectionately. You were hers, after all. She ached when you weren’t within her reach.

She did also love to tease, though. Whenever you were having lunch with her friend group in the massive cafeteria, she’d manage to slip a finger under your panties. Somedays you’d make it easier for her, wearing a short skirt and opening your legs at the mere brush of her long knuckles, allowing her to caress your folds as she continued her conversation with the girls, ever so casually.

On other days, though, when you were not in the mood for it, Giselle would huff, sending you annoyed glances as she unbuttoned your jeans with one hand, not even sparing you a glance as she fingered you just the same. Your sweet cunt was hers, and she’d take it whenever she pleased.

That being said, she needed you constantly. Which meant heavy make-out sessions in the hallways, pulling you from your classes so you’d eat her out in the restrooms, demanding you’d always stay somewhere she could see you… Giselle was demanding, but you didn’t mind. You knew how sweet and caring she could also be, whenever you were alone, and you’d never ask her to change her personality. She loved your calm, collected and quiet nature, so you loved her as she was just the same. You’d never ask her to change.

In fact, you couldn’t deny her possessiveness made you aroused, too. To be taken care of and adored by her, not only whenever you fucked, but with the smallest gestures, too. It made you melt, unable to deny her of whatever she wanted to take from you. You felt wanted, she made you feel wanted.

For that reason, you didn’t actually mind being her trophy pet. She was able to maintain her popular mean-girl image around campus as she pleased, for all you could care.

You end up spending even more time with her closest friends: Karina, Ningning and Winter. When they weren’t sending judgmental glares to anyone who crossed their way, they were actually very funny to be around. They cared about each other and were a tight-knit unit, you quickly noticed. The queen bees of your University, indeed.

Usually, you’d engaje on their playful banter, joking around and giggling as they joked. However, being beautiful, spoiled women, they knew nothing about limits, and would sometimes push your buttons too much. Whenever that happened, you were quick to whine to your girlfriend, making sure they’d stop it. Similar to when you were at one of their go-to cafes, right after you had lost an important game. “Come on, Y/n,” Karina said, poking your ribs as soon as she saw the pout on your face. “Don’t be boring like that just because your team fucking sucks.” “Yeah.” Minjeong agreed, focused on her milkshake. She didn't even spare you a glance, as she added. “I mean, don't you practice like every day and shit? Why are you all still so bad… This way, our University will never win any cool prizes.” Even though their words were harsh, you knew by their tone that they didn’t really mean it; they just liked to mess with you, as they did to everyone. You, however, were not having it. The defeat was still too recent for you to play it cool, so you shrank in your seat, turning away from them as you hid your face against your girlfriend’s neck. “Gigi, will you have your friends stop it, please?” You asked, voice cracking, even though you were trying your best not to cry. You’d rather not deal with them, so naturally, your Giselle would handle it— just like she did with anything else that bothered you. “Girls, shut the fuck up.” She commanded, tone imposing as she pulled you closer by the waist. You didn’t look at them, aware of the three girls rolling their eyes and muttering about how pussy whipped Giselle has become. They did stay silent, though, quickly diverting the topic to something else. And you felt the coziest as Giselle’s hands squeezed your waist, offering you reassurance.

She still loves to doll you up, too. There’s not a day when you’re not walking around campus with at least one piece of clothing she’d gotten you, lavish and stylish. You pretend not to notice the little whispers and glares whenever you pass by, reminding yourself that people will always find a reason to talk.

Since it makes Giselle happy, though, you gladly keep wearing her gifts, even if the looks you receive constantly leave you with the urge to run to the nearest bathroom, locking yourself until the end of the classes.

It’s one of the things pisses her off the most about you, too: you frequently forget to take a jacket or a hoodie to class, and it infuriates her to see you wearing Jinni’s when you meet at the cafeteria. “You look so much better wearing my jackets, though.” She murmured, hands finding their way into the insides of your shirt, in attempts to keep herself warm, too. “Come on, baby, take that ugly thing off… I can’t have you wearing that. Ning will let you use hers, instead. She’s never cold anyway.” You try to reason with her, but Ning is already handing her jacket to you, cursing Giselle under her breath. So you only shrug, sending Jinni an apologetic glance as you do as told. You just can’t help it— you’d do anything within reach to have Giselle give you that bright smile of hers.

Speaking of your friend, Giselle has come to terms with Jinni’s presence in your life. She no longer sends the younger girl death glares, or uses her influence around campus to have her benched in games. If only, Giselle’s become friendly, which terrifies Jinni even more. “She’s a menace, Y/n, I’m telling you. And she creeps me out, I’m sorry.” Jinni had told you, someday during practice break. Her words made you laugh, as you shove her playfully.

It was Karina’s idea, actually. Although Giselle knows not to trust her friend’s advice too much; Karina is down bad for any pretty girl near her radar. “Just be a little nice to her, or whatever.” The blonde girl had told Giselle, while critically examining her own nails. “Then have her keep an eye on Y/n for you. It’s not like you can be around her during practice, anyway. This way, you’ll know what’s going on.”

After that, Giselle has been an absolute sweetheart towards your friend, which warms up your heart. She waits patiently for you to go fetch her something, and then her attitude changes; her posture becomes straighter and her stare lacks the usual warmth it has, whenever you’re around. Jinni talks without much effort, blurting around any updates of unpleasant events that had happened during your previous practices, ones you refused to tell Giselle because you knew she’d make someone pay for things that are, usually, accidents. It has become part of her routine, to look out for you even when you refuse her help.

Her favorite thing is to wear your jersey during games. It pleases her deeply to have anyone know who their University’s star-player belongs to— As if she doesn’t make it a well-known fact, in your daily life.

Loves fucking you in the locker rooms, too, making you scream so all of your teammates are aware she owns you. She gets off having people trying to have a peek of you two fucking, too, although she’d never allow it.

At last, your relationship might not be completely understandable to those who are not close to either of you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way ˆˆ.

#giselle x reader #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #aeri uchinaga x reader #aeri uchinaga #aespa x yn #aespa x fem reader #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #s.writes #aeri uchinaga x yn #aespa giselle

[waitingonher]

Hi can you do some Percy Jackson x Hades Child hc?

percy jackson dating a child of hades

pairing: percy jackson x child of hades!reader

content warning: cursing

word count: 780

author's note: sorry this one's a bit shorttt

a son of poseidon and a child of hades? ANOTHER POWER COUPLE. 

everyone knows not to mess with either one of you, or else they’re in for a doozy. 

percy’s always making sure that you’re not overworking yourself. he saw what it did to nico, so he for sure does not want that happening to you too. 

he’ll usually ask in more subtle and casual ways like “training was rough yesterday, how’d you sleep?” or “the lunch selection was good today, what’d you think?” 

it may be overbearing to some, but percy honestly can’t help it. the very last thing he wants is you being too hard on yourself. 

when you two first started dating, you guys—for some reason—decided to make gardening your little thing together?? but when you had accidentally killed them with your aura, you and percy decided to go forward with something a little less…alive. 

LOL so now your guys’ little thing is baking!! 

somehow chiron allowed you and him to use the camp kitchen?? 

anyways, you guys are pretty much pro bakers now! well, if you ignore the time when percy mistook the salt for sugar, then you guys are basically pros. 

you reach your hand out to your boyfriend, “perce, pass me a cookie.” “here,” he passes you a cookie while grabbing himself one, “on the count of three?”  you nod and begin counting, “one, two, three.” taking a bite of the warm cookie, you both immediately realize something’s wrong. the cookie tastes…salty? you see percy’s eyes widen as you two make a dash towards the sink.  “oh my gods! why is it salty?” percy screeches, the chewed up cookie muffling his voice.  after what felt like years of rinsing your mouth, the unpleasant salty taste had left your mouth, “babe, you were in charge of the dry ingredients...so did you use the salt instead of the sugar?”  percy’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, “no…i’m not that stupid. look,” he grabs the plastic container and turns it around, only to reveal the label that reads ‘salt’, "oh…yeah, that’s my bad.” 

considering the reputation your dad has, percy’s always looking out for you. but don’t get me wrong, everyone at camp could not give less of a shit about your dad, but it’s the newcomers he worries about. 

some of the new kids are so bold??? but don’t worry, cuz you and percy ALWAYS find ways to humble them. 

percy’s the type of bf to have almost anything you may need on hand. you need a hair tie? he’s pulling one off his wrist. your lips are chapped? he’s taking out his aquaphor. 

he loves seeing you use your powers, because like…pretty gf who has cool powers over the dead?? what is there not to love??

sometimes when you two are training, you’ll look out the corner of your eye to see your boyfriend just staring at you? percy has ZERO shame and will stare at you whenever he feels like it. 

whenever you guys have sleepovers, he always makes sure you fall asleep before him. it’s more of a comfort thing for him. percy just sleeps better knowing that you’re already sleeping. 

normally he’s a pretty light sleeper, but around you, he’s an even lighter sleeper. he just wants to make sure that he’ll be awake to comfort you in case you have any particularly alarming dreams. 

when you two eat, he never fails to save and offer the last bite to you. but percy doesn’t want you to feel bad about you eating his last bite, so he just nonchalantly offers it to you. 

movie nights with percy!!! 

you’d make him watch all the classic horror movies. shit talking the ones with bad acting and graphics is your guys’ favorite pastime. 

“oh my gods,” percy groans for the umpteenth time, “i swear, it’s probably a mortal who made this movie. they can’t even get the stupid ghosts to look right.”  you laugh at percy’s passion for complaining, “literally! okay but can they get some other guy to play the main character?” 

at this point, you two should make your own horror movie because you’re too busy making fun of them instead of actually enjoying them. 

you also made percy watch tusk… 

ever since watching it, he can’t look at walruses the same. (me too percy)  

gods forbid he runs into one in the ocean. 

percy also has a cork board in his cabin with a shit ton of polaroids on it jdfsksd 

they range from pictures with you to pictures of the sunsets.

but if you pay attention, you’ll find that the majority of the photos include you in them <33

#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson fic #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus

[thewritetofreespeech]

May I request Gojo's s/o giving him healthy desserts (yogurt parfait) in place of snacks and desserts high in sugar because she worries for his health?

Something sneaky was going on around him, and Gojo didn’t like it. He never liked it when he wasn’t being the sneaky one.

At first, he thought he was just being absent minded. Going over to his snack cubby in the house to get a treat and finding less & less of his favorite cookies and chocolates in there. Maybe he was eating them faster than he remembered? So, he brushed it off.

Then he thought he was being paranoid. The sugar on the counter, that was usually next to the coffee pot in the morning, had suddenly vanished. The puddings he packed in his lunches that morning would suddenly be gone too. The vending machines by campus were all randomly ‘out of order’. So he knew something was up.

“What’s this?” Gojo asked his s/o, as they sat in a café having coffee (because he couldn’t get any at the school because all the sugar was gone there too). His tone grumpy as he was coming down from his perpetual sugar high.

“It’s a parfait.” They replied. Gently sitting the dessert in front of him along with their own black coffee. “They make really good ones here, so I thought you would like it.”

Gojo smiled a little. Finally perking up. Maybe his string of bad luck with sweets was just that, and his curse was finally lifted. “Pffffffffffttt!! What is that?!”

“It’s a parfait….” [Y/N] told him. Shocked by his spit take.

“This isn’t a parfait! Parfaits have ice cream in them!”

“Don’t be so dramatic Satoru. It’s frozen yogurt. Not like….cottage cheese or something….”

He looked at [Y/N]’s pout and suddenly realized what was going on. “It was you!” He accused. “You’re the one who’s been stealing my snacks and moving all the sugar around!” Of course. He should have figured it out sooner. [Y/N] was the only one besides non-curse users who can get past his senses; because he’s let his guard down so much around them.

“You eat too much sugar.” They told him. Still pouting, but clearly deciding that their deception was the hill they were going to die on. “I was try to cut some of it out of your system.”

“You were trying to cut all of it out.” Gojo corrected. “I’ve been getting headaches.”

“Which is further proof that you’re addicted to sugar!” Damn. He shouldn’t have given them more ammunition. “I just worry about your health. Too much sugar is terrible for you. You can get diabetes, high blood pressure, increased risk of heart disease.” Gojo decides to not comment on the fact that these come with old age, which is probably not something he will ever see. “I just want you to be healthy for a long time.”

“Just not happy.”

Gojo sulked for a moment, but then picked up the spoon again and ate another bite of the parfait. “I guess it’s fine.” [Y/N] smiled at that. “I can cut back a little. But if you start taking my pudding cups out of my lunch again, all bets are off.”

“Deal.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #scenarios #imagine

[custard0nut]

𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (𝐇𝐂)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x gn! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Small acts of intimacy with the moon boys.

—————

Marc Spector:

When you’re eating together he likes to wipe your face with the pad of his thumb, his reason for doing so is because apparently, you’re a messy eater when you’re actually not. He just needs a reason to touch you tbh.

On days when he’s busy doing some avatar duty, he leaves his sweatshirt or hoodie on your shared bed, so when you’re doing your routine, a part of him is with you. He may or may not have sprayed his cologne on it too.

Since Marc’s been to every part of the world, he would give you those tourist souvenirs unironically. 

"Seriously, Marc? An ‘I love New York’ t-shirt?" “What? The quality is great, baby."

If he wakes up early before you, he will stay in bed longer until you wake up because he loves to admire you. There’s just something so raw about it like time has stopped and it’s just the two of you. 

Your morning raspy voice? He fangirls internally. “Good morning Marc,” “Morning baby” 

Sometimes, without realizing it, Marc’s hands always find their way to have skin-to-skin contact with you. Like he would draw circles on your stomach with his finger while you’re laying down on his lap or pinching your thigh while you’re cuddling on movie night.

Does the laundry for you when he’s around and would never let you lift a finger at all. If he sees you reaching for the broom, you can bet he will swat it out of your hands.

“Ow!” “Oops sorry baby", then proceed to kiss your knuckles as an apology.

—————

Steven Grant:

Nap times are a must! He will buy matching pj's and even turn on the air humidifier or light a scented candle before your nap time. He doesn’t mind if he’s the big spoon or small spoon but he loves being the small spoon. If you’re having a bad day, he will be the big spoon and would pamper you with kisses.  

“It’s okay love, I’m here.”

Leaves candies and snacks around the apartment/your bag/your pockets, he does that just in case you ever get hangry or you just need sugar in your body.

“But Steven, they don’t make candy as sweet as you :(” He suddenly melts into a puddle. 

Brews you a cup of tea/coffee every morning before heading to work, and he would place your favorite mug next to it. 

He has a tendency to link your pinkies together when walking next to you. He doesn’t want to get lost in the crowd.

To heal your inner child, Steven bought lots of colouring books, and you guys would compete to be the best. Gus would be the judge of it. The little guy will swim toward whatever attracts him the most.

“YES! I won again!” “That’s not fair love! You bribe him with food!” Que to him sulking.

One perk you adore about him is when he’s humming softly to himself. He usually does that when making dinner or in the shower, and you would sometimes sneak up on him for a surprise hug. He appreciates that a lot.

—————

Jake Lockley:

He lowkey has cute aggression and would playfully bite you. Your arms and thighs become the victims most of the time. 

“Can you stop biting me?” “Why not? You always bite me when we’re in bed though ;)”

He likes to take a shower with you and massage your head and body with shampoo and soap. Takes his time picking which scented shampoo to use on you because he likes to sniff your hair while cuddling. It’s therapeutic for him.

“Mixed berries or green tea?” “Green tea please.”

Would invite you to run errands with him cause he enjoys your company and plays your playlist in the car. He will either grab your thigh or hold your hand while driving; there is no in-between. 

Since you’re his pretty passenger, you can bet you leave your stuff around purposely. He thinks it's cute.

He will go to any lengths for you, even driving across town in the middle of the night, to satisfy your cravings.

“Okay, I got you your favorite snacks amore,” “Thank you!” “And I demand kisses as payment.”

Self-care Sunday was your thing at first, but now it’s his too. So when he’s running errands alone he would buy skincare for you and him to try out and you were surprised when he came home with a bunch of varieties.

“Which one do you wanna try first mi amore?”

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #steven grant x y/n #marc spector x y/n #jake lockley x y/n #moon knight headcanon

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astrology Observation pt. 2

(Thank y’all for all the support on my first one❤️🙌🏾)

*as a sag Venus sag mars pls stop asking me why I’m laughing…I’m not laughing at YOU I’m just insane😝

*moon in the 1st synastry is so therapeutic you just feel really comfortable opening up to the 1st house person and as the 1st house person I feel honored someone trusts me enough to share their feelings🫶🏾

*people w aqua and libra in their big three are the chillest mfs you’ll ever meet. Even though I’m very chaotic anytime someone describes me “chill” just seems to be thrown in there. We space out ALOT and it’s honestly embarrassing😭 Ex: Alicia keys, lil Wayne, Harry styles, Rosalia. Harry gives such himbo energy in interviews and they drag him for it in the comments but he’s probably just thinking about multiple things at once. Alicia keys didn’t even realize lil mama was on that stage and went on performing lol. Obviously lil Wayne smokes but something about his energy…he’s on cloud 9. And just go watch Rosalia’s chicken shop episode💕😂.

*honestly Aries mars aren’t that bad when it comes to temper because usually they find ways to manage it. Now mars-Uranus aspects is a completely different story. I have late mars-Uranus and it takes me a while to get mad but when I do I can’t even think anymore. My old roomie had a tight square and she would blow up on people for no actual reason like girl sit down😭

*something about Scorpio mars men is just😮‍💨 they have such a sneaky energy to them that makes them stand out. Virgo mars are fine too they’re just so skinny and no matter wtf they do they’re always nerdy ugh (ex: Matthew gray gubler, Lucky daye, Dylan O’Brien, Jeff Buckley)

*i noticed Aries moon don’t really get along w each other. They find their own energy to be too mf much (which it can be) so they prefer being around more calmer people *coughs* libra moons like me. They wanna be bouncing off the walls 🤪 while their friend is just like 🙂.

* fire risings do a lot of things fast. As an Aries rising, I walk fast, get happy fast, eat fast, workout fast. My cousin is complaining her sag rising toddler eats and drinks way too fast.

*venus in 11th…how many tiktok drafts do y’all got😭

*i talked to this guy who had similar placements as me (Venus in 8th and moon in 6th plus Aquarius and Aries placements) It was so chaotic it was literally us going back and forth obsessing over eachother while trying to keep it lowkey. But also the amount of anxiety we are naturally incline to have made the whole situation too mf much.

*i have mercury conjunct my friends mars and for years she tells me the things I say can take people there and make them wanna fight me. It’s in Capricorn and so I was confused before I knew we had that aspect

* i noticed rappers whose lines always stick out to me have Gemini mars or mercury- mars (central cee, king von, tupac, kendrick , j. cole)

*i was talking to this guy and I had Venus and mars plus pluto in his 4th house. Months after we stopped talking our friend groups meshed and he would tell me non-stop I reminded him of his mother. He said she was the same height as me and y’all I was scared to ask what she looked like cause 😫 y’all remember that episode of family guy when Chris dated that girl that looked like Lois yep 4th house synastry.

*im a true crime whore and two women who killed their bfs had sun-Uranus aspects. Their energy was erratic and very off putting in videos. I can’t remember the other one but Courtney tailor/clenney was one.

* More spilling my business on the Internet😍 i think I’m done entertaining people my age. Pluto in the 8th, Lilith in 1st, and Venus conjunct Pluto synastry has been hell. Where’s my sugar daddy/mama?? It’s ghetto out here

*gemini Lilith generation whose a year younger than me is nasty asf😭 esp the tauruses they have their Lilith conjunct their Gemini Venus and opposite their Pluto. One said he had a slept w two girls at separate times. He didn’t know they met until the girls posted a selfie together and tagged him. They later told him they wanted a threesome and he did it😭 knowing astrology I believed every word

* sidebar Neptune-asc people and trying to give off innocent vibes ugh annoying asf to me. I can see right through their bs but they’re able to fool most people.

* mercury-Pluto aspects are in fact LIARS and throw a Scorpio placement in there😮‍💨

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #sag mars #harry styles #aries mars #virgo mars

[frankenkyle19]

Kinktober Day 2: Food-play With Peter Maximoff

word count: 4k

Description/warnings: Food play, Oral (both male and fem receiving), unprotected sex, fast fucking (it’s Peter, so it’s fast fast), Peter being a goof

Peter had to admit it. He had some… odd kinks. Or… unique interests is what he liked to call them. He didn’t have a ton of experience but he did have a very vivid imagination. He wasn’t too eager to share some of his kinks, but maybe, just maybe this one wouldn’t be too weird? I mean it wasn’t by any means considered normal or vanilla, but it also wasn’t hardcore at all.

It was no surprise that Peter had a bit of a sweet tooth. Constantly snacking on something that contained high levels of sugar. It kept his blood sugar up and his metabolism didn’t burn through it as fast, and… it tasted good. So why wouldn’t he like it? 

Twinkies, whipped cream, cakes and ice creams. Peter liked it all and could probably eat it for every meal if he was allowed. Protein? A balanced meal? What’s that? 

Peter was also into all sorts of freaky stuff. He’s definitely not the kind of dude to be vanilla. He had outrageous ideas that usually turned off most of the partners he’s had in the past. They weren’t too wild, but still, it just hadn’t been their thing and that was okay with Peter. It didn’t make him want to test out these things any less though. 

Once he met you everything changed, as cheesy as it sounds. You’re down for anything and everything that Peter brings to the table. He kept it chill for a while, not wanting to scare you off, but you were always down to clown with him and would hear him out for any idea he had, no matter how odd.

So when he brought this idea up to you, you laughed right in his face. Not because it was an odd or even bad idea, but because he had been so shy to bring it up to you in the first place. 

“I want to cover you in whipped cream and syrups and lick it off you. Y’know? Like- it’s called food play. I really wanna try it. The idea really fucking turns me on baby- why are you laughing?!”

Peter watched you for several seconds before your fits of laughter subsided, leaving you to catch your breath as you shook your head. Peter was kinda freaking out. Why were you laughing? Oh god were you laughing at him?

You finally managed to catch your breath as you looked at the silver haired mutant in front of you. 

“Peter- I- I mean I’m totally down to do that with you, but why were you so nervous to ask me? It’s not like anything outrageously freaky. Did you really think I’d say no?” You questioned. 

Peter sighed and covered his face shyly with his hands before peeking out at you. 

“I was just-“ his voice was muffled from his hands covering his face.

“I just was… I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time and was worried you’d shoot the idea down. It’s like- one of my fantasies.” Fantasies. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn’t in some cheesy porno. Get yourself together, Peter. 

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at how shy he’d become. Peter. The man who always had a comeback for everything. A snarky response to absolutely anything. You realized then that he truly had been nervous to tell you this.

“I’m not like that Peter. Sure, there’s things I don’t like but I’d be honest with you. You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me your interests. I want you to be happy and I’m more than happy to try out new things with you.”

Peter let his hands fall from his face as his dimples peeked out, a big shit eating grin that showed you that he was back to his normal goofy self. Goofball…

“I’ve got a bunch of ideas baby- whipped cream, chocolate syrup, honey, ooo cherries. You’ll be my own personal sundae.” He began, eyes darting around as he fidgeted with his hands, something he did when he was trying to stay still and keep himself relatively calm. He never stayed still, some part of him always needing to move to get out pent up energy. 

“Okay I’ll be- I’ll be right back-“ and without another word, Peter was gone, your hair messily flying around in the wind his quick escape created.

He was only gone three minutes tops and came back with two grocery bags on his arms, still grinning ridiculously.

“I really really hope you paid for all that, Peter.”

“Pfffft, course I did babe. Who do you think I am?” He chuckled, but you just knew he was lying. What were you going to do with him? Your little thief. Stealing lots of things, including your heart. 

Peter impatiently gestured to the bags on his arms before nodding his head towards the bed, body buzzing with excitement. He was beyond ready for this.

“So, what do I have to do?” You asked curiously as you made your way towards the bed, Peter at your heels.

“Ah you just lay back and relax baby. Enjoy the rideee”

You rolled your eyes but nodded, pulling off your shirt and pants, leaving you in just your undergarments 

“Take these off too?” You asked curiously, to which he nodded enthusiastically, setting the bags down at the edge of the bed, he began sorting through the various items he had ‘bought’ (stolen)

You and Peter weren’t shy around each other. Peter would walk around naked all the time if it was socially acceptable. You on the other hand were a bit more wary about being nude, but Peter never judged you or your body. In fact, the opposite. He praised you like a goddess, treating you with so much love as well as respect. It made your heart flutter. Despite how goofy and dumb he could be at times, Peter was respectful and loving beyond your wildest imagination.

So, you slipped off your bra and panties before laying back on the bed, feet shoving the bags of food items to the side a bit to give you some more room, causing a huff from Peter who was still sorting through things.

The silver haired mutant froze in his tracks when he saw your figure. He whistled lowly and shook his head as he bit his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Damn baby, you’re smokin’. I’m so fucking excited for this you have no idea-“ he said, pulling the rest of the items from the bags before tossing the plastic onto the floor. No wonder his room was always so messy…

He crawled over you and pulled you into a kiss, eager to get things started. You humored him for a moment but shook your head, cupping his cheek 

“You are wearing far too much right now, Peter. I think it’s only fair that you take a few… layers off.” You said, gesturing to your own naked body.

You had intended for him to take them off slowly, give you a little show, but why would he do that? That wasn’t practical and he never did anything slow. He ripped his clothes off faster than your eyes could catch up with before moving off the bed to grab something from the bags. 

His cock was half hard between his thighs, a bush of silver curly hairs covering his crotch, trailing up into a sparse trail of hairs that met his belly button. What was it about his dumb, silver hair that drove you nuts?

He grabbed a can of whipped cream first, shaking it as he looked you over. How did he score someone as hella smoking as you? 

You just smiled up at him, watching curiously as he lowered the tip of the whipped cream can to your shoulder, pressing down as a small swirl of whipped cream came into contact with your skin. You shivered a bit, not expecting it to be so cold, but the cold feeling was soon replaced by something much much warmer. 

Peter’s tongue lapped at the whipped cream eagerly, his teeth even nipping on your skin a bit as he made sure to clean it all up. He licked his lips as he pulled away, eyes now a much darker shade of brown then before, pupils blown wide. 

“Damn. We should have done this so much sooner.” Was all he said, reaching for the can again as he placed another dollop of cold whipped cream onto your body. Right above your left breast.

He once more leaned down and carefully licked up the sweet cream before he made it to your skin underneath, giving gentle kisses here and there as he let his tongue trace over you.

You hummed softly, closing your eyes and relaxing into the bed. This wasn’t exactly… anything special so far. But you knew it’d eventually get there. So the anticipation was truly the best part. It was a waiting game.

You flinched at the sudden sound and feeling of the whipped cream being poured onto your breasts, your eyes shooting open as you looked up at Peter. His eyes were so dark they were hard to make out as he leaned down, licking over your hardened buds as the white cream met his tongue. He moaned softly, and once each breast was cleaned, he sucked them into his mouth, one at a time, looking up at you with the most ridiculously innocent look he’d given this whole time. Damn him..

“Peterrrr '' you whined softly, chest arching into the feeling of his warm, wet mouth. You were beginning to grow a bit impatient, ready for more. You always hated his teasing. It drove you nuts.

Peter just grinned mischievously, setting the whipped cream down on his bedside table before reaching for something else.

Chocolate syrup.

“Jesus Peter, you’re going to make a mess-“

“Nope! I happen to have an expert tongue that’ll get it all cleaned up.” He said suggestively as he struggled a bit to open the container. Once he did though, he leaned over you again, going lower this time as he began to drizzle the sticky dark syrup onto your stomach, making you cringe a bit. You’d definitely be showering later to get all the sticky remnants off of your body. 

Peter set the syrup down next to the whipped cream before pulling back to get a good view of you. And god damn did you look good. 

His tongue traced the chocolate down down down, until he was at your core. He blew onto your dripping cunt as he grinned wickedly.

Oh you’d get him back for this…

He continued to tease you like this for several moments and you debated kicking him in the groin for it. 

But finally sweet relief came as the first swipe of his tongue swept over your weeping cunt. A quiet cry left your parted lips as you looked down to see his head of silver hair, the rest of his features hidden from your view as he began to eat you out vigorously.

Usually he’d tease the hell out of you before just going at it, but maybe he realized he’d teased you enough already. Or maybe he was just that desperate to get a taste of you. Peter would definitely say it was the latter.. He hadn’t always been an expert at eating you out. You had basically taught him everything he knows now, being he wasn’t very experienced with anything when you two first met. And god did your teaching pay off.

Peter brought the pad of his thumb to rest against your clit as a buzzing sensation of pleasure surged through you. That little shit was vibrating his fucking thumb. It was so much that it was almost torturous, and you gasped, trying to wriggle away from the overwhelming touch. You had a love hate relationship with how he abused his powers in the bedroom, the pleasure so overwhelming but so blindingly good. 

Peter just laughed, and that’s when you had finally had enough. You sat up, confusing Peter before you tackled him back onto the bed, shaking your head as you used all your strength to pin him. Realistically you knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, but he was humoring you, curious to see what you had planned.

You grabbed the whipped cream off of the table and tapped the tip of it to Peter’s mouth, signaling for him to open, which he did. You sprayed some of the cream into his mouth, keeping him quiet for several moments as he worked on swallowing it. 

In the meantime, your hand came to wrap around his hard length, causing him to yelp in surprise at the sudden stimulation. He nearly choked on the whipped cream as he tried to prop himself up a bit, eyes laser focused on the way his cock slid through your hand. 

 Peter finally managed to swallow the whipped cream he had in his mouth, finally able to moan out in pleasure at your touch. God you were soooo fucking good at this. It was unreal. You’d been touching him for like .5 seconds and he was already ready to bust. 

He was hot and hard in your hand, causing you to shiver a bit at the thought of him inside you. No matter how many times you two were intimate, he always felt magical inside you. Each and every time.

“Hand me the whipped cream, Peter-“ you hummed, stroking over the tip, collecting the pre-cum there and spreading it over his length.

“Why?” Peter decided to question. He always questioned everything anyone ever did. He wasn’t the brightest in the bunch but was always curious.

“Jesus Pete can you just hand it to me? I’ll show you.” You had stopped stroking him to reach for the can, which he quickly handed over to you, eyebrows furrowed in a curious sort of confusion.

Soon enough, his confusion turned into shock as you carefully squirted a little bit of whipped cream onto the tip of his cock, causing him to jump. His cock twitched lightly, causing the whipped cream to wobble, nearly making you laugh.

Setting down the bottle, you took the base of Peter’s cock back into your hand to hold it steady as you leaned down, ready to clean the sweet cream from his cock.

“Woah wait are you being for real right now holy shit oh my goddddd-“ He got cut off with a whine of his own, watching with intensity as you licked the whipped cream off of him before suckling his tip into your mouth, the cream mixing with his own cream. 

“There’s- no fucking way this is actually h-happening right now holy shitttt” Peter gasped, hand coming up to run through his sweaty silver hair, pushing it back and off of his forehead as he watched your every move. Your eyes met his own as you suckled on the head of his cock, coaxing a moan from his throat as he swallowed hard, hips subconsciously shifting up to try and get more of the feeling.

“Fuck please- gotta give me more then that baby, feels so nice- god damn-“ he cursed, writhing against the bed as you took him deeper into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag lightly.

Peter sighed heavily, stomach muscles tensing as he leaned down and gently caressed your hair, his big hands massaging your scalp as you bobbed your head on his dick.

Soon enough, Peter began to subtly vibrate, just like he always did when he was getting close to his release. Luckily enough for you, you’d learned that from experience and knew to pull away.

With one final kiss to the tip of his red, throbbing cock, you crawled your way back up to him, smiling softly as you kissed him. Sex with Peter was so hot and erotic, but in the same beat so soft and comforting. You felt so safe in his arms.

“So, is this living up to your expectations so far?” You asked against his lips, smiling softly as you leaned over him. 

“Better- god so much better-“ he shook his head, laughing softly as he pulled you into a kiss before flipping you over onto the bed, getting between your thighs as something popped into his mind. Another idea, but this time he wasn’t as shy in asking.

“Can I try out another fantasy of mine?” He asked, stroking his cock before he rubbed the tip against your clit, causing you to moan softly, arching your hips up against his. And in this kind of situation, how could you say no to anything he asked to try? It was simple. You couldn’t.

“W-what is it?” You asked, breath heavy as you bit your bottom lip between your teeth, looking down as he slid his cock between your folds, teasing you as he let his tip slip in before pulling back.

“Want to cum inside you. Fill you up. Be my little cream pastry.” 

He had such an awful way with his words, the sensual moment gone, replaced with a laugh from you as you grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down closer to you.

“That’s fine Peter, I’m on the pill but I- never call me your little cream pastry ever ever again.”

“Aww, really? I thought it was kinda hot..” he sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Definitely not, now get on with it, Quicksilver, I don’t have all day.” You pulled him closer, gripping onto his shoulders as he finally slipped inside of you, his arousal mixed with your own making it all too easy for him to slide in with zero resistance.

“Jesus Christ-“ he moaned out, gripping onto the bed on either side of your head tightly as he rocked into you, his heavy balls slapping against you with each thrust.

“F-fuck baby- fuck Peter so good to me, so good Quickie.” You moaned out, wrapping your legs around him as he sped up his thrusts. He could go fast. Freakishly fast, but he always waited for your word to go for it, not wanting to hurt you.

“You’re so good to me” Peter cooed as he thrust into you, his cock hitting spots so deep inside you it made you ache, pleasure mixed with a hint of pain. “Too good to me- letting me try out my kinks with you- so- so fucking nice to me.” He grunted, hair falling into his face as his breathing quickened. You knew neither of you were going to last long, too desperate for release.

“We’re  going to be so sticky, Peter.” You giggled, out of breath as you clawed at his shoulders. Each time he thrust into you the air got knocked out of your lungs. 

You could see that he was restraining himself. Holding back from how fast he really wanted to go. Poor thing, it was always such a struggle for him, trying to go the speed of the world when he just wanted to speed through everything.

“Peter-“ you spoke gently, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. He peeked up at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Y-yeah?” He panted out, burying his face into the crook of your neck, licking at the skin there as if you were his own personal candy.

“Faster baby, you know I can take it, I’ve taken it before.” You whispered against his ear, and it nearly had him cumming right then and there. Holy fuck, it was the conformation he needed, and he wasted absolutely no time at all. He braced his hands on the headboard, letting his fingers curl around the wood until his knuckles turned white.

He sped up in the blink of an eye, fucking you so fast and hard that it was bordering on painful. His groin slapped against your clit in such a way that caused you to moan out, the friction being just what you needed.

“There we go- fuck- such a good boy, such a fast boy” you moaned out, your words were punchy, each time he thrust back into you, you choked on a cry, holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

He reached down between the two of you, rubbing his thumb over your clit perfectly, and if that wasn’t enough, a subtle vibrating had erupted from Peter, not only was his thumb vibrating subtly, but his cock was as well, buzzing inside your warm, tight walls, making you choke out another ragged moan.

Peter was barreling towards the finish line, but he always needed to have you finish first. Not just because he was a gentleman, but because the spasms of your cunt around his cock when you released caused a much more intense, pleasurable orgasm for himself.

“Please cum for me baby, please need it so bad-“ he whined, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. His bottom lip was bitten tightly between his teeth as he tried so hard to restrain himself from cumming.

It didn’t take much more for you to fall off the edge. The way his thumb was vibrating against your clit with just the right amount of please, the way his cock hit spots deep inside you that made you see stars. It was a recipe for the perfect orgasm if there ever was one. 

Your back arched as you clawed at his shoulders, burying your face against his chest as you came with a cry, your whole body shaking as pleasure coursed through each and every bone in your body. 

When he felt you clench around him, Peter was a goner. He gave a few more half hearted thrusts into you before he came deep inside your walls as you clenched around him, milking him for everything he had.

It was almost too much for Peter, the way your walls hugged him tightly, pulsing around his now sensitive cock. He stayed inside you for several more moments before pulling out, watching the trail of his cum that leaked out of you, and damn. If he hadn’t just came so hard, he’d be ready for round two. 

He collapsed next to you, looking over at you with a goofy smile. Hair all fucked up, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. He looked wild in the most beautiful way possible.

“That was-“ he panted, at a loss for words as he turned to face you, his hand reaching out to gently caress your side.

“That was the best sex we’ve ever had. Hands down.” He laughed softly, his breathing beginning to calm as he came down from his high. It was so intense, it took him much longer to recover than usual.

“We need to shower.” You grimaced, feeling the remnants of chocolate and whipped cream beginning to dry and become tacky.

“Babeeee- in a little bit, let me revel in how good this way-“ 

You shook your head, cupping his cheek as you placed a kiss to his lips, tasting the leftover chocolate as well as your own arousal. 

“We can have more fun in the shower. Only if you’re up for it though-“ you said, shrugging as you sat up. If he didn’t want to shower with you, you’d just do it by yourself.

“Hey! Wait!” Peter sat up with lightning speed, his abused cock giving a pathetic twitch of interest as he crawled across the bed to you, grabbing your hand. He had the most pathetic pout on his face you’d ever seen.

“Pleaseee? I’m coming! I’ll shower right now!” He said, standing up, picking you up with him before he sped off to the shower, setting you on the side of the tub as he got the water to the perfect temperature.

“Ready for round two?” He said, the biggest smirk ever set on his lips. Dear lord, you were in for a longgg night.

#evan peters #evan peters icons #quicksilver smut #xmen quicksilver #quicksilver #peter maximoff #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fanfiction

[eddies-house]

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Six - Sugar

W/C: 4.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

A crybaby and the town grump walk into a bar...

A/N: idk why but this chapter was giving me so much trouble and i've been really doubting my writing and second guessing. It's more of a filler chapter but still important to the story. I'm super excited for what's to come tho!!

Masterlist

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Three Weeks Later

“Bambi, go home already.  Your shift ended–”  Eddie pauses to check his watch.  “-jesus, like an hour ago.  Why are you still here?” 

The floors were pristine, mopped to perfection, chairs stacked on top of the tables, and rags started in the washer.  Every glass found home on their corresponding shelves, all dried and perfectly polished for the following shift, not one imperfection among the twinkling surfaces.  The place was spotless and there you were, standing on top of the bar in order to reach the top of the light fixtures which, judging by the amount of dust on them, went neglected for some time now.  Your apron was long discarded on one of the barstools and sweat dripped from your brow, the epitome of hard work if he’d ever seen it.  The Bourbon hadn’t been this clean in years.

“I’m almost done, I swear.”  You reply quietly, clearly far more engaged in your cleaning frenzy than any conversation he was trying to coax you into.

“No, you’re done.”  Eddie marches around the bar, revealing himself just in your peripheral.  “Get outta here.”  There wasn’t an ounce of venom behind his words, however, he was without a doubt becoming increasingly annoyed.

You chance a glance down at him only to find his standard scowl etched onto his face.  Except, it wasn’t as mean spirited as you were used to and it hadn’t been for quite some time.  It was cute; the way his lip would slightly jut out and how his smile lines were so prominent, eyes drooping in irritation.  Endearing irritation that you grew accustomed to.

“I will.”  You state, feather duster swiping through a satisfying amount of dust.  “When I finish.”

“No, get down.”

Your first instinct is to obey without question.  Listen to authority.  But in the previous weeks, you’d found it easier to let loose.  Sure, Eddie was always somewhat crabby but it never intimidated you and whenever he found himself particularly pissed off, he’d banish himself to the back office which aided in releasing any tension you’d built up throughout the week.  So, it wasn’t that difficult to at least attempt some friendly banter.  Especially if you could get him to crack a smile.  It was a win in your books when he tried so hard to withhold it from you or even better, turned around completely to shield his broken composure from you.

“Don’t you have–what did you call it– ‘a shit ton of paperwork’ to do?”  You joke. 

“Ha.  Ha.  I’m serious, get down.”  He mocks, glaring up at you, a stupid little tug pulling at the corners of his mouth.  Barely noticeable, but you take note of it.

“‘M not gonna fall, if that’s what you're worried about.”  You mumble, shaking your head.

“Judging by how many times you nearly eat shit throughout the week, I’m pretty worried.”  

Pretty worried.   

Saliva caught in the back of your throat, you try to play it off like dust that had gotten trapped in your airways, clearing your throat.  Only, your body had just reacted far too quickly to his words, resulting in the failure of a simple bodily function.

“I do not…”  You crouch down, poking the end of the feather duster at his chest.  “...fall that often.”  You pout.

“Yeah?”  A tiny smile pulls at his lips.  There it is.  “That’s why I said ‘nearly’.”

If you could bottle up the look he was giving you, you would selfishly keep it all for yourself to stare at on bad days.  Such mischief and amusement lingered in his gaze.  Sparks lighting up the dark and cloudy haze he usually exhibited.  Like fireworks against a colorless sky, beautiful hues popping left and right but after all, everything is always temporary.

“I don’t ‘nearly’ fall that often either.”  You whine.

“Just get off my bar and go home.”  Eddie demands, voice warm and buttery despite his intent to kick you out.  

Staring at him expectantly, he relays the same expression to you with raised brows.  In response, you cock your head to the side, luring the word out of him.  He doesn’t quite catch on, eyes narrowing while you wait.  A smirk appears on your lips as you remain perched on top of the bar, feather duster forgotten next to you.  His eyes grow a few sizes as if to urge you to speak up.  And then he gets it.

“Please.”  It drips from his tongue like warm caramel.

His eyes relax, creases between his brows ceasing and lids becoming heavy.  Another look you would mentally take a snapshot of just to hang it on the walls of your cluttered brain.  You’d be sure to clear a spot just for it.  

“Gladly.”  You offer the same smooth tone, hopping off the bar only to lose your balance along the way.

And before you can face plant into the hard wood planks, two large hands stabilize you, holding your waist firmly until he is sure you aren't going to collapse, but not yet letting go.  If you were to set aside your cowardly tendencies, you would look up and feel his breath against your face.  And you’re sure you could probably count the faint freckles on his nose that you’d only seen briefly when almost colliding into him during a rush.  You only remain glued to the floor, both your eyes and feet.  

“Careful, Bambi.”  He scolds softly. 

“‘M sorry.”  You murmur.

“No need to be sorry.”  You timidly glance up at him.  “Just–just be more careful.”  He pleads.

You were good and ready for him to yell at you, fully prepared to recoil as he raises his voice but it never comes.  And it hadn’t since that one time with the plates but you were like a skittish animal and long before you had even known him, any conflict had you in a corner every time, eyes full of tears and lip trembling.  You could only hope you didn’t look as pathetic right now.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”  He begins to soothe, a certain nervousness in his voice.  Obviously you did look just as pathetic if not more.

His hands had left your waist to graze over your shoulders hesitantly, concern evident in his tone while he consoled you.  He shouldn’t have to console you for fuck’s sake.  Why were you on the verge of tears over your clumsiness?

“Sorry, sorry.  ‘M fine, I swear.”  You attempt to suck back the tears, head tilted toward the ceiling, lip tucked in between your teeth anxiously.  “J-just go do your paperwork.  I’ll be gone in a minute.”  

Just when you think–no hope that he walks away, those large hands are gently grabbing at your wrists as you use your fingers to push the tears back into the corners of your eyes.  A soft touch that for some reason, only made you want to cry more.  

“Stop apologizing.”  Eddie says, attempting to catch your gaze, finding it difficult as you begin to stare at the floor, hiding huge watery globs under your eyelashes.

“Just–let me get my things–”  You begin to voice shakily, vision blurred with tears that you resented.

“Sit down.”  He demands calmly, concern carved into his features from what you can make out through blurred vision.

“No, no, it’s okay–”

“Right here, sit.”  

Eddie directs you to a barstool, the distorted world around you becoming progressively more overwhelming by the second.  And all because you almost fell in front of your boss and he had to catch you.  It wasn’t your intention, appearing as the stupid girl who happened to be a gigantic cry baby, emotions too sensitive to the horrors of the real world.  Though, that was the reality, wasn’t it?

“Sorry.”  You whisper, a few rogue tears escaping after the good fight you put up.

At this, he releases a heavy sigh.  You can’t help but feel childish and small, your confidence devastatingly lower than before as you try to regulate your shaky breathing and wobbly lip.  You just needed a minute, one minute to ride out the wave of anxiety.  Eddie lets your umpteenth apology slide, slowly slipping into the stool next to you.

“I’m–uh–I’m gonna go home.”  Your voice is an octave too high for his liking.

“Not like this you’re not.”

You remain on the stool, embarrassed, your cheeks feeling hot with stained tears.  This was hell if anyone ever asked you.  Slowly but surely revealing just how big of a wimp you were.  Sure, you’d shed a few tears when he screamed at you over the plates but he hadn’t even done anything this time.  You reacted purely on instinct and it was humbling.

“Let’s uh, let’s try this…”  Eddie starts, running a ringed hand through his bangs.  He slides a napkin in front of you before reaching for your apron on the back of his stool, stealing a pen and setting it on the napkin.  “W-write down, uh, write down your feelings?”  He says, so unsure even he couldn’t take himself seriously.

With a sniffle, you try to hide your confusion as you stare at the bland brown napkin.  Eddie groans and for a moment you think it’s because you’re not playing along but quickly dismisses the thought when he reaches for another napkin and steals a second pen from your apron.

“Um, it sounds–it sounds stupid.  It kinda is stupid.  But, um, you just write what you’re feeling?  A-and it’s supposed to…shit I dunno.  It’s supposed to help clear your head I guess?”  He explains.

You wait for him to laugh, wait for him to mock your tear stained face and absolute lack of emotional control.  You wait for the ‘why are you crying’ in the most condescending tone and the lecture as to why you had no reason to cry.  It never comes.  Instead, as you sneak a glimpse at him from the corner of your teary eye, and he starts writing. 

“So, right now, um…”  He clears his throat.  “Right now I’m feeling, uh, concerned?” 

You can tell he’s having trouble coming up with words and that this was difficult for him…feelings were difficult for him.  Something you could heavily relate to.

“Or, uh, you c-can just write…whatever…”  He trails off, clicking the pen against the counter repeatedly. 

Rather than answering, you clumsily pick up the blue pen, dropping it once with a trembling hand before fully grasping it.  Then you begin writing as he instructed.  If he made fun of you for what you were writing down, so be it.  You’d already embarrassed yourself enough.

You expected him to chime in by now, scoffing at what you had written down.  But when you glanced over, he was doodling on his napkin, something that appeared to be a dragon.  Minding his own business.  Awkwardly, you set the pen back on the counter, causing him to peek over at you.

“It helped.”  You mumble.  “A little.”

“Good.”  He replies, tapping his pen against the counter.  “So, uh my therapist usually has me share once I write everything down–or at least share the main points.  You don’t–you don’t have to but that’s just…that’s what we do.”  

Eddie expects you to crumple up the napkin and throw it out.  Then you would leave and think to yourself how ridiculous he is.  He didn’t know how to help people–hell, he didn’t even know how to help himself most of the time.  What he doesn’t expect is for you to shyly slide the napkin in front of him.  Averting his eyes, he’s unsure if he actually has permission to read but when you nod your head ever so slightly, he still has trouble looking down at what you had scribbled out.  It felt like he was peeking into your brain, something he felt he wasn’t worthy of.

Humiliated

Stupid

Exhausted

Anxious

Small

Burden

Crybaby

Lonely

So many words for such a small increment of time that you had been scrawling away on that napkin.  So many words that held such heaviness.

“Wow.”  Is all that he says upon his first glance over.

Anxiously, you suck in a breath, attempting to snatch the napkin back in regret only to fail as Eddie slides it out of your reach.  

“It’s stupid, I-I’m gonna go…”  You begin, hopping off of your stool.

“It’s not stupid–”

Then you were gone, a gust of wind practically slapping him in the face.  He couldn’t find it in himself to complain, only troubled by the inner workings of your mind.  It was all too familiar and he was beginning to feel as if he wasn’t the only one cursed with a diseased mind.  Selfishly, he found comfort in that.  

–

There’s only one thing worse than a shitty car.  Two shitty cars.  Specifically a shitty car and a shitty truck.  Both unreliable, both sputtering every time Eddie put the key in the ignition.  Grandpa Roy’s ‘Ol Reliable four-door sedan wasn’t living up to its name and was on the decline by the looks of it.  It had been for some time, though he was alway able to find a temporary fix and keep it running.  Today he had no such luck.

The truck, Sugar, was arguably in much better shape.  She was well-loved, red paint chipping after years of use and a cracked rear window.  The engine had its moments but she was still better off than ‘Ol Reliable.  

“C’mon, Sugar.  Don’t be like that.”  Eddie mutters, turning the key in the ignition a few times more, only to be met with failure.  “Fuck.”  He whispers, hopping out from the driver’s side to prop the hood open, large hands splayed out along the sides as he prepares for battle.

With a sigh, he ties his hair back and discards his leather jacket on the ground in exasperation, even going as far as to give it a small kick away from his work space.  A wooden work bench was strategically placed on the porch under the awning, leaving no issue for when winter came around so that he had easy access to his tools even in the most dreadful of snows.  Snow hadn’t kissed the ground quite yet but the further into October it got, the more crisp the air became, a subtle announcement for what was to come.

A deep, resentful groan leaves Eddie’s chest as he trudged up the steps to the porch, lips all perfectly pouted while he reluctantly pulls each of his large rings off only to drop them in a cup he’d taken from a diner years ago when he made the move to Knife’s Edge.  An already greased up rag was snatched from the worktop and tucked snugly into his back pocket.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

He counts to himself under his breath as he collects the necessary tools.  It wasn’t like he had to be at the bar yet, though he would’ve liked to stop by the store to stock up on cigarettes and see if he could find any of those cocktail cherries on sale.  He wanted to save where he could.  Every cent mattered.  Then he was more than likely going to sulk in self pity while trying to figure out how to summon money from the sky.  Maybe indulge in a beer in his office.  He couldn’t afford to comp beers for himself like that but he could dream.  After that maybe he’d have a good cry before the chaos ensued again.  

Those plans went out the window when Sugar decided to test his patience.  Perhaps he should be grateful to his unfaithful truck for attempting to lure him out of the isolation he planned to encase himself in.  It was one thing to isolate yourself at home, it was another to trap yourself at your place of work hours before it actually opened and beat yourself up over every little thing and question where it all went wrong.  

“Dammit, dammit, dammit.”  He reiterates to himself, tossing a wrench in his hand as he makes his way back to Sugar.  “Go easy on me.”  He begs.

The pumpkins you had been angling perfectly on your porch were suddenly so miserably uninteresting; how could they not be when such an erotic site was placed right in front of your prying eyes?  Regretfully, your wet dream came to life.  Except, you played no part in it and Eddie paid no mind to you.  Not that he ever would.  And even if he did, you’d made it clear that you were a nutcase.  

You still couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way his arms flexed under his short sleeves and how he grunted while tugging at something under the hood of his truck.  Drool could have been dripping from your chin and you wouldn’t notice, too hypnotized by his every movement.  He had opted to wear some black converse today rather than his standard black combat boots.  It was cute, you couldn’t lie, the small change made you giddy.  And the way his shirt was riding up as he stretched himself over the engine felt like a tease.  A peek at what you had once gotten a glance of while wasted but didn’t get to fully appreciate as your sober self.  

God, you could recall the blurry image of him momentarily pulling his puke stained shirt off cautiously, revealing his lean figure.  It was practically pixelated in your mind.  As you reminisce on what your drunk self had taken for granted, reality feels just as distorted when Eddie’s eyes land on yours.  Huge doe eyes, almost cartoon-like catching your attention as if a moth to a flame.  You want to look away, you beg of yourself to look away but your inner voice is muffled; almost as though you were under an enchantment.

And like a siren call, his voice reaches you.  You fear that you may be all too willing to drown just to hear it again.

“Will you hold this for me?”  He shouts, almost desperately.  Almost.

Your eyes widen, hands still resting atop a perfectly orange pumpkin while you sit pretty on your porch step.  An Autumn dream.  Suddenly, Eddie wishes he would’ve kept to himself rather than requesting your assistance.  Had he thought it through, he would’ve opted to magically grow another hand.  Instead, he stands with ruddy cheeks and syrupy eyes, glazed with adoration that he was frantically attempting to wipe from his vision, shoving the feelings that were oozing out of him back into his stupid sweaty skin.

“Um…”  You reply in surprise, already crossing the border between properties, a shy stutter to your walk.  “Well I don’t really know how to…”  You trail off, suspecting that he could figure out the rest of your thoughts on his own.

Oh, how he regrets calling you over.  His clammy hand clutches the wrench, providing no aid in his attempt to calm his nerves.  

“You don’t…you don’t have to, uh…”  He appears as if he’s battling his own thoughts, gaze casted toward the ground as his eyes dart left and right.  “Can you just hold this?”  He finally gets out, pointing to a part of the engine.  “Sugar won’t start and I swear I can have her running again but it’d be a hell lot easier if you could just hold this real quick.”

“Sugar?”

“Sugar.”  He confirms.  “Oh!”  Realization hits him.  “Yeah, Sugar.  My truck.”  

“Okay…”  You whisper, unsure.

You could almost forget the mortifying incident from the early hours of 3:00 AM as you took in his wet chocolate coated eyes, the light Fall breeze seeming to affect him.  His lashes clumped together like art and his nose was tinted the perfect shade of rose, those faint freckles dotted along the bridge like little constellations.

“Just, right here.”  He instructs, turning his attention back to Sugar.  

Following his lead, you adjust your hand where it's needed, an uncomfortable, greasy residue coating your fingers as he works.  From this angle, the afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his profile, flyaway curls highlighted in the light like a halo and nose endearingly round at the tip with lips tucked into his teeth as he concentrates.  And then, his tongue pokes out, an adoring sight that only makes you yearn to reach out and graze your fingertips over the stubble threatening to emerge from his cheek.

“Thought you’d name it something more…tough.”  

Your meek voice earns a glance over his shoulder, brows furrowed in that cute way that everyone always recognized as harsh and cold-hearted.

“What?”  The way his eyes crinkle at the corners paired with his confused expression only give you more reason to let your stare linger a little bit longer, a bold move on your part.

“Um, Sugar–”

“Oh, Sugar.”  

Simultaneously, you refer to his truck, interrupting each other while his elbow grazes your arm as he tightens a bolt.

“Uh, well…she’s, uh, the only girl in my life.”  He jokes, quietly chuckling.  “And, she’s not exactly brand new so I’ve gotta treat ‘er nice.”

“And…she can hear you?”  You question, attempting to hide your oncoming grin.

This time, he only glares at you over his shoulder.  There’s a comfort in the way his eyes seem to swallow you whole.  

“Okay, okay, ha, ha.  I know, she’s a truck–”

“And you keep calling it a ‘she’.”

Eddie pulls back, stepping away from the engine, prompting you to do the same as you stare up at him, a smidge afraid that you might have actually offended him.  A few rebellious curls frame his face, creating the vision of a princely man who in reality, was nothing of the sort.  Not in the sense that he wasn’t gentlemanly, only in the sense that he didn’t care what others thought.

“What?  You never heard of people calling their car a ‘she’ before?”  He asks, offense barely evident in his tone.  More than anything, he appears to be amused by your observation.

“No, I have.  Just didn’t think you seemed like one of them.”  You remark.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Again his eyebrows crinkle in the cutest fashion, lip curling ever so slightly as he brings a hand to his hip.  You begin to think that no one has ever looked so good covered in grease and you’d never been attracted to the smell of oil but you could make an exception if it meant you’d get to see his features this close.  Eddie was a pretty guy.  And the more his colors showed, the more entranced you became.

“I dunno, nevermind.”  You attempt to divert the conversation.

“No, no, you have to tell me.  Please enlighten me.”  He crosses his arms, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.  

“No, forget it!.”  You giggle.

Eddie can feel his shoulders relaxing at the sound.  Can feel his tension release even if just the slightest.  His eyes relax, a lazy gaze focused on you.  Everything suddenly feels so…calm.  As if his life wasn’t falling apart.  You were like some kind of drug that made him forget how shitty things were and if it only lasted a few seconds at a time, he would gladly invest in as much as he could until he overdosed.  Which to be fair, he didn’t think was possible.  

“No, what do you mean?  Say it with your chest, I dare you.”  He nods at you, eyes showcasing that same spark you’d notice every now and then.  The spark only seemed to get bigger and bigger.  One day you’d hoped to see a fire ignite, a full explosion of his personality.

Biting your lip, you look at him sheepishly, doubting yourself.  But something about his gaze eggs you on.

“You just…you’re all…big and bad.”  You mumble, eyes finding themselves glued to the ground.

“Big and bad?”  Eddie repeats.

It’s enough to have you backtracking, pathetically trying to erase your words.  Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like a goldfish.

“See, it was stupid!  I was being stupid.  Just forget–”

“Why do you keep doing that?”  He asks, genuine curiosity blended in his tone along with a dash of concern.

“Doing what?”

Your puzzled expression only makes his chest ache.  Leaves crunch under your feet as you fidget, visually nervous.  He hates that he always ends up making you uncomfortable, never able to get a grip though maybe he can blame his highschool-self.  He never talked to girls and maybe if he had, he’d be having better luck right now.  Who’s he kidding, maybe if he just wasn’t even himself he’d be making a lot more progress.

“Calling yourself stupid.”  He mentions quietly.

No one has ever confronted your self-deprecating commentary, only ever remained silent as if to agree with you or they’d simply shift the topic.  Never has someone questioned your reasoning.    

“Oh…well I uh, I didn’t think I did it that often.”  You begin to stutter, clearly taken back.  He wishes he could rewind back to when you were bantering back and forth about his truck.  He probably would’ve found another way to fuck up the conversation, even if he could go back and give himself another chance.  

“But if this is because last night I wrote–”  You start again, only for him to keep running his big mouth.

“A bunch of bullshit?”  He states.  Like it's a fact.

Your wide eyes aren’t a good sign.

“What?”

“Yeah.  Bullshit.”  He sounds so sure of himself.

“Oh.”  

You physically seem as if you're deflating, your body closing in on itself, shoulders slumping while you take a step back.  It was the opposite of what he wanted.  But he could always count on himself to ruin a good thing.

“No, no!  I didn’t mean it like–I didn’t mean–fuckin’ christ.”  Eddie runs his clean hand down his face.  “I didn’t mean it was bullshit.  I meant that…I guess I meant that you shouldn’t feel like that?”

It’s quiet.  Eddie knows he deserves a slap across the face, if anything.  But you just continue staring at the ground, lost in thought.  Moments pass and he’s starting to feel he should dismiss himself and hide forever.  Forget fixing Sugar and just become a hermit.

“Why?”  You whisper.

He doesn’t offer an answer, only shrugs slowly.  He just kept putting nails in his own coffin.

“Don’t you…don’t you think I’m those things?  Like…like there’s something wrong with me?”

Eddie steps closer, not enough to push your boundaries but still enough for you to notice.  He tugs his lip in between his teeth, pulling at it anxiously while he thinks.  And with his arms still crossed, one finger taps at his elbow in threes.  You follow the action.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“No.”  He says simply, to which your head snaps up.

Cola colored irises are awaiting you, welcoming you in a way.  A softer expression falls over his face, his cherub-like features becoming enhanced.

“I don’t think you’re those things.”  Eddie says confidently.  “I think you’re just right.”

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #st fic #stranger things fic #stranger things au #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson angst #smoke signals #bartender!eddie #bartender!eddie munson

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Treading Water

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader

summary: Frank cares for you when you're struggling.

warnings: descriptions of anxiety/depression, descriptions of nudity

a/n: I've been feeling like utter crap this week so I wrote this piece and it was very cathartic. I hope someone else gets comfort from this :)

wc: 1.3k

A swallow passed through your strained throat. Your mouth was dry, your head felt heavy. The limbs on your body were hard to hold up, like they’d been filled with lead overnight. 

You tossed and turned in bed, the sheets rustling so much that they came loose but you didn’t care. You just wanted some fucking peace. You thought sleep would grant you that, but you weren’t that lucky. 

You wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but you just lay there, a lump of dead weight. Your jaw clenched as you thought about the tasks you could’ve done today—that you should’ve done today. There was a pile of dishes in the sink, an overflowing basket of laundry that you’d promised him you would handle, a growing list of tasks for work that all felt far too difficult to manage. 

Your heart pounded. Your hands were shaking, probably from low blood sugar but you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. Tears pricked at your eyes as another wave of discomfort crested, your body flinging from freezing cold to burning hot without warning. You shifted miserably under your blankets once more, pulling your arms out to alleviate the heat. The gentle breeze running throughout your apartment stung your skin and the new lack of weight over your torso filled you with dread. 

It wasn’t safe. You weren’t safe. Everything was going to come crashing down and you were in no fucking state to handle it. So you’d force him to. Burden him with yet another crisis. Fucking useless, you screamed at yourself. Get up. Do something. 

But you couldn’t. 

So you pulled the covers back up to your chin, wretchedly flipping over to your other side in a desperate attempt to find comfort. 

——————

Frank’s muscles ached as he treaded up the stairs to your shared apartment. His job had taken far too long and all he wanted to do was curl up in your arms and sleep. Leaning against the wall as he searched for his keys, he let out a sigh. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and…frowned. 

On a normal day, you’d be on the couch watching tv or reading, scented candles lit, relaxing as you waited for him to return. He knew it was late, but there was no sign that you had even been here today. 

Pulling off his boots and jacket, he meandered through the kitchen and living space, still not finding any indication of you. Finally, he stepped into the dark bedroom, brows furrowing even further as he noticed the trembling lump in the bed. 

“Sweetheart?” He murmured, his voice raspier than usual since he hadn’t used it much today. Receiving no response, he shuffled to your side of the bed and crouched before you. 

Your eyes were squeezed shut, glistening tear tracks paving the way down your cheeks. Frank could see the tension in your figure as you tried to stop new sobs from building. 

“Hey, what’s wrong babydoll? What happened?” He used his knees to move closer to the bed, brushing some of the hair from your overly warm face. 

A shuddering breath escaped you. “Dunno.” 

“Have you felt bad all day?” Frank continued to trace his fingertips over your cheeks. 

You nodded sorrowfully, eyes still closed.  

“Oh doll, you shoulda called me. I was gone so long…” 

“Not your fault.” You whispered, eyes finally opening but refusing to meet his. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“‘course I worry ‘bout you. You worry ‘bout me dontcha?” 

You bit your lip, curling in on yourself. 

“Hey, it’s a’right sweetheart. You don’ have to hide from me. You can’t help not feelin’ good, doll. You eaten today?” He implored, pressing a kiss to your nose. 

Shaking your head, you finally meet his gaze. “‘M sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, babydoll. We can eat somethin’ together. How ‘bout a bath? Would that be good?” 

You gave a shaky nod and Frank smiled. “Attagirl. I’ll go start the bath, yah? You just relax.”  Pressing a kiss to your hair, he headed to the bathroom to fill the tub. 

Washing his hands and stripping out of his soiled gear, he briefly washed himself up before slipping back into the bedroom to retrieve you when the water was comfortable. 

“A’right, doll. Tub’s ready for ya. Can I carry you there?” 

Nodding, you reached out to grasp his shoulders. He cradled your body against his chest, nuzzling your forehead before carrying you to the bathroom. His gentle hands helped peel your clothes off before steadying you as you settled in the tub. A small sigh burst from your lips as you let the warm water soothe your aching body. 

Frank pulled your body wash from the shower caddy, pouring some into his hands. He lathered the soap over your body, taking extra care to knead your shoulders and neck where you tended to hold the most tension. Your forehead softly knocked against his as you tilted into him. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was hoarse from crying and it made his own throat ache in sympathy. 

“No need to thank me, doll. I’m gonna order us some food, then I’ll come back to dry you off, yah?” 

You let your eyes fall closed, this time a bit less dismally. Breathing deeply, you heard Frank puttering around the apartment beyond the bathroom door. His grumbles and heavy footfalls would normally make you smile, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that just yet. 

After what felt like mere minutes, Frank returned with your fluffiest towel and some of his clothes. He pulled you from the tub carefully, taking the time to dry every drop of moisture from your skin. 

Pulling one of his hoodies over your head, he smiled at you. “There’s my beautiful girl. Feeling any better?” 

You collapsed against his chest with a nod. Trudging out of the bathroom in his shadow, a new rush of anxiety filled you as you noticed all of the work that needed to be done, that you should’ve done already. 

Your breaths shortened and your eyes turned glassy. Frank seemed to immediately notice the change in your demeanor. He scooped you up, swiftly moving you to the couch and pulling you into his lap. 

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, sweetheart? Talk to me.” His thumb drew patterns across your nape. 

“The dishes.” You sniffled, tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“What about the dishes, babydoll?” 

“I didn’t do them. I’m so sorry Frankie, I was gonna—“ 

“Hey, they’re just dishes, doll. They can wait another day. That’s no reason to apologize.” Combing his fingers through your hair, he met your tearful eyes with a firm gaze. “You been beatin’ yourself up all day?” 

After you failed to respond, Frank sighed. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like chores were more important than your health, sweetheart. It’s ok to have a bad day, you don’ expect me to do the dishes when I come home bleedin’, do ya?” 

You shook your head, burying your face in his neck. He continued to pet your hair. 

“Exactly, doll. Jus’ cause you weren’t shot doesn’t mean you ain’t hurtin’ just the same. It’s ok to rest when you’re not feelin’ good. Always.” 

You nodded against his neck and he pulled back to kiss your hair again. 

After eating the food that Frank had ordered for the two of you, and draining a couple glasses of water at his insistence, the two of you padded back to the bedroom. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the sight before you. 

“You changed the sheets?” You murmured, looking up at Frank. 

“Yah, sweetheart. Got out the nice soft ones you like so much.” 

You wrapped Frank in a tight embrace. “I love you, Frankie. Thank you.” 

“I love you too, babydoll. I’ll always be here for ya.” Lifting your chin with a strong finger, he tenderly kissed your lips. “Always.”

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #marvel the punisher #the punisher #punisher #the punisher imagine #fc #my writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 4

Warnings: groping, insecurity, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

The prospect of doing your walk of shame is intimidating. You try to plot how exactly to skulk home as you search for your panties. It’s the only piece you’re missing. You have your skirt on, your shirt, bra, even both your shoes. Goddamn, they couldn’t have got that far.

You grab your purse and check inside. Of course they’re not there but you want to make sure you have everything. As your keys jingle noisily within, Curtis pokes his head out from the kitchen. You didn’t even realise he was in there.

“Off already?” He asks, “I was just about to start breakfast.”

You stop short as you look at him. That’s not exactly how these things work, is it? You clasp your purse shut and let it dangle from your elbow.

“Breakfast? Well, uh, I guess…”

“I don’t mind. You like smoothies?”

You remember all the times Stephanie complained about a guy sticking around too long. Or how Isla called her last boy toy a stage five clinger because he wanted a kiss. Were you doing this all wrong?

You meet his eyes. A cornflower blue so soft and pale you could sink into them like water. It’s an innocent offer. You feel bad just racing out but it seems just as awkward to stay. Still, you feel like you owe him.

“Sure,” you answer, “I like smoothies.”

“Bacon? Oh, shi–oot, you vegetarian? I got tofu, too.”

“Bacon’s fine, really,” you assure him, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Help? No, no, you’re a guest, just… sit down and relax. I’ll take care of you, bunny.”

You mull over his insistence. He’s being a good host but you can’t help but wonder why. He’s almost too nice to be true. Are you missing something?

“Everything okay?” He startles you as he touches your arm gently. You can’t help but wince.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, “it’s fine, I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Not at all. Please.”

You can’t argue with him. Not when he’s being so nice. You can’t complain for the night you spent with him. What’s another hour?

You retreat to the living room and take out your phone. You still haven’t heard from the other girls. That’s not really unusual but it’s not often you split up for the night. You typically keep a sort of buddy system. You feel a bit forgotten.

You sit on the couch as you scroll then pause and look down. You remember last night, right in this spot. You swear you can feel him still, hear his sultry growl as he coaxes you. You still can’t believe it. 

You never thought you were the one to fall for sweet words, yet you never had the opportunity before to prove that true. You melted like sugar at his first touch.

The blender whirs, followed by the noise of his cooking. You tuck yourself into the corner of the couch and try to distract yourself with a game of solitaire. You’re hungry but almost too nervous to eat. You’re not sure you’ll even be able to keep any of it down.

He emerges with a tall glass, a dark purple smoothie that he places on the table next to your elbow.

“I hope you don’t mind blueberry. Guess I should’ve asked.”

“It’s fine, thanks,” you assure him.

“Anything else?”

“No, no, that’s good.”

“Well, let me know. Anything you want, bunny.”

You smile and nod as you lift the smoothie. There it is again; bunny. It’s adorable but you’re not too sure about it. Pet names aren’t entirely warranted after a single night. You think. You need to stop acting like you know everything because quite clearly you’re clueless.

You sip through your straw as he goes back to the kitchen. You flick your finger up and close the card game. You can’t even win against yourself. The smoothie is delicious. You nearly drink half of it before you catch yourself.

You set the glass down on a wooden coaster and steady your phone. You flip through your contacts; Stephanie, Isla, Mindy… You should text them, make sure they’re okay.

“Here we go,” Curtis interrupts your indecision.

You put your phone down, tilting it on the popsocket as you look up at him. He carries in two plates and places them on the low coffee table. He stands and glances around.

“I have TV trays. Sorry, I’ve been tryna get outta this place. Somewhere a little more roomy.”

“It’s okay, really. My place is tiny compared to this.”

“This one’s yours,” he takes a plate and a keeps the cutlery from slipping off, “hope you like sunny side up.”

“It’s wonderful,” you affirm.

You admire the sliced avocado and the rye bread. The bacon looks like it’s turkey and his own plate only has egg whites. You can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. You don’t often have such a healthy breakfast.

You balance the plate on your lap and grab the cutlery. You get yourself situated and your phone buzzes loudly as he sits beside you. You glance over at your phone and quickly swipe away the call with your finger. You’ll call them back later.

You go to slice into your eggs as Curtis clears his throat. You focus on carving out a small bite, not enough to make you seem piggish.

“So, who’s Andy?” He asks.

Hsi tone carries an unexpected edge. You peek over at him then shake your head. You’re confused.

“That’s who called. Boyfriend? He’s okay with you going out?” He prods tersely as his knife hits the plate sharply.

“Boyfriend?” You laugh anxiously, “no, I don’t— he’s my boss. Probably had a call-in.”

“Ah,” he nods and you hear his breath, each one measured. You don’t know why he’d care enough to ask.

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #dark!curtis everett #drabble #au #series #the DUFF #snowpiercer

[darlingeto]

gojo satoru and his half ironic half bashful romantic gestures.

he’s gone quiet while you’re yapping about some dumbass thing someone did to you, his eyes hazy with gentle adoration as he resting his squished cheek onto his hand, lips pursed in a certain pout as their default resting form.

you notice how the himbo in love look he’s sporting probably means he wasn’t listening so you ask with a cocked brow.

“..earth to the chosen one..hello?”

and in the most damsel in love tone he says with a small chuckle.

“sometimes i think you’re edible, you’re so pretty, like cotton candy..”

after the initial baffle washes out you poke him on the forehead and he giggles while taking your hand into his large 2+1 apartment of a hand and softly kisses at your palm numerous times.

sleepy satoru is basically a domesticated fox.

his responses have a short range of biting for no, making a certain “mhm!” while nodding eagerly for, well all other stances and flat out ignoring you and nuzzling his face somewhere on your body, preferably chest.

if he’s laying his head on you and you try to move to go to the toilet, the man traps your thigh with his own fully wrapping his long limbs around your leg. you tap his shoulder a few times matching it with a short groan of his name “sa-to-ru..i need to go badly..” he grumbles in his own, set of sounds, before biting at your cheek softly and kissing your face all over after. then as if he hadn’t even registered your words he nuzzles his face at your neck and within minutes he’s fallen asleep.

whenever you two are sleeping and you even remotely move or shift, his arm you’ve rested your head upon will enclose around your back and rather tightly press you onto his chest and its always followed by some barely understandable “what..baby it’s okay..what is it..” and you definitely know he’s asleep by the way he’s drooling at the corner of his mouth. and he talks in his sleep if he’s had too much sugar during the day, you hear it all, from “finder’s keeper” to some extremely soft whisper of “baby i got you, you’re okay..” usually this will bring a deep upturned furrow to his eyebrows and his hands squeezing the parts of your flesh closest to grab.

btw more..ahem..content below.

he goes to town at any given moment, tired? might as well have you sit on his face while you basically fuck yourself on his tongue. if he’s trying to make a point, usually after you go overboard with insults you yell to his face and his smug demeanor breaks, since he doesn’t exactly engage you in vocal arguments, he will put you in a vulnerable position such as a deep arch to your back with your bum up and your face onto the pillows. will slap the hell out of your most sensitive parts and his entire goal is to get you to squirt but will warn you not to make a sound if you’d like to have enough voice to speak tomorrow. however that’s rare because eating you out is “the reason he was brought in the world.” in his words while he’s drunk off of your taste, so if satoru is anything he is going to war for that pussy. but one thing is certain, if the man will have you on his tongue he must and i mean gojo satoru (30) whines if you don’t let him hold both of your hands, and must have your fingers tightly intertwined as he holds you in the place at the edge of the bed he pulled you to, the only time he allows for your interlocked hands to detach is if he uses a hand to fist his dick as he more often than not will finish when he eats you out.

he most definitely loves something flamboyant but effortlessly so, like pressing his chest to your back and speaking lowly in a huffy tone about how you’re ruining the sheets followed by a whiny “what a bad little girl..” while his lower body pistons his dick into you at a scary pace.

i will most likely add more to this post like its a goddamn journal. but the brainrot will never end until the war does, give me my spouse back gege akutami he was your golden character.

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #pussydrunksatoru

[in-a-nook-with-a-notebook]

Life Could Be A Dream

Franchise: Star Wars (but modern AU)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x male reader (reader's pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, modern!AU, implied smut (scratch marks on Poe’s back, hickeys, mentions of nudity if you squint), fluff, established relationship, mentions of Poe being an F1 driver, no plot really just a sweet morning with Poe, did I mention fluff?

Summary: Poe always gets cuddly after a race; the more intense the race, the more he wants to be glued to your side. Yesterday's race was pretty crazy, but you’re not complaining.

A/N: This is ridiculously self indulgent, especially with the breakfast foods (I am a slut for a good serving of pancakes) also the inspiration and the song mentioned is Sh-Boom (Life Could Be A Dream) by The Sh-Booms, highly recommend listening while reading; for some reason I imagine Poe being a Formula One racer in a modern AU so voila

You blink your tired eyes open with the sun peering through the curtains of the hotel room. It’s warm and welcome on your skin. A lazy smile drifts over your face. You stretch a little before curling up under the thick blanket again; it’s smooth against your bare skin, perfect for a morning like this.

You slowly roll onto your side, turning your back to the window. Your eyes land on your boyfriend’s sleeping form. Poe is snoring softly, his dark curls tousled and unkempt. He looks so peaceful. His broad back glows in the morning light, the duvet haphazardly covering the lower half of his body. There are faint red marks near his shoulders, reminders of last night. Even after the longest, most intense races, he still has some… pent up energy.

Careful not to wake him, you lean forward and press a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. You then silently slip out of the bed, tugging on a clean pair of boxers. You’re grateful for the carpeting under your bare feet until you reach the cold tile of the bathroom. You brush your teeth, considering you can taste how bad your morning breath is, but you don’t bother fixing your messy hair. You wash your face with cold water to wake yourself up a little more, padding it dry with a facecloth. You look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes sliding over the hickeys on your neck and chest from Poe last night. Your fingers ghost over them.

After leaving the bathroom, you grab a shirt from last night. It’s either yours or Poe’s. You’re not sure, but you don’t really care all that much - it’s a shirt either way.

You wander to the kitchen, thankful the two of you had booked at an extended stay hotel; full kitchen with a big fridge, living space separate from the bed area; lots of space for you and him to stay for a while. You dig through the fridge in search of ingredients for breakfast. The two of you went out for groceries a couple days before his big race in Melbourne, so you had everything you needed to make a filling breakfast; Poe’s always hungry after a night like last night. You are too, quite frankly. You grab bacon, eggs and milk and put them on the counter, lightly kicking the fridge closed behind you. From the cabinets behind you, you collect salt, baking powder, white sugar, and a small bag of flour.

As much as you don’t like packing heavy when you travel for Poe’s races, you’ve brought it upon yourself to have some essentials so you aren’t eating out all the time. After the first few races, you pretty much put together a travel kit of cooking/baking supplies and other things you guys would usually have at home.

You grab a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon and begin mixing the dry ingredients together. You snag a normal bowl from the cupboard to mix the wet ingredients with a whisk. You then combine them together and leave it on the counter with a dishcloth over it, letting it rise. From the cabinets underneath the counter, you grab two pans; one for the pancakes when they’re ready and one for the bacon. As you set the pan on the stove to heat up, you hear shuffling from the bedroom area; Poe’s awake.

The pan warms quickly and you start laying bacon on it to fry. The sizzling meets your ears just as Poe appears out of the corner of his eye. You focus mostly on the bacon, but you can sense his presence. His arm snakes around your waist and he pulls your back against his warm, bare chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” you say with a smile.

Poe hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. “Morning, baby.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log, but last night was amazing…” He nibbles on your neck a little, tightening his grip around you. You chuckle, bringing your hand down to squeeze his. “Bacon?” Poe inquires, changing the subject and looking down at the pan in front of you. His chin rests on your shoulder, leaning his head against yours.

“And pancakes,” you add, gesturing lazily to the mixing bowl.

“Mmm, I love your breakfasts.”

“You love all my cooking. And baking, for that matter.”

“Because you, mi amor, are an absolute god in the kitchen.”

“You flatter me, darling.” You reach for the tongs to flip the bacon strips. “I’m assuming you’re hungry. You’re always hungry.”

“For your food, always.”

“Flirt.”

“I’m just speaking the truth here.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “Want help?”

“I love you, but you can just sit there and look pretty for now.” You turn your head to fully kiss him. “I wanna cook for you.”

“You always cook for me.”

“Yeah, because, no offence, but you can’t cook for shit.”

“I’m a Formula One driver, not a chef.”

“I’m not even technically a chef.”

“You might as well be,” Poe replies, untangling himself from you. “You are probably one of the best cooks I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And eating with. And, you know, everything else.” He kisses the back of your neck before stepping away to sit at the island, watching you fondly. “You sure you don’t want help?”

“Well, how about you set out the fruit from the fridge?”

“That I can do.”

As you get a plate out for the bacon, as well as a couple pieces of paper towel to catch the leftover grease, while Poe goes to the fridge. You feel Poe’s finger drag down your spine, sending a shiver through your body.

“Tease,” you murmur, looking at him over your shoulder. He smirks at you, blowing a kiss to you. “You wanna put some music on?”

“Absolutely.”

You transfer the cooked bacon onto the plate, then put more bacon on the pan. Poe shuffles around behind you, connecting his phone to the speaker.

Life could be a dream, life could be a dream

Do, do, do, do, sh-boom

A smile crosses your face with you hear the song and you turn to look at Poe. He puts his phone down on the counter. You both begin to murmur the lyrics under your breath.

“Life could be a dream. If I could take you up in paradise up above. If you would tell me I’m the only one that you love, life could be a dream, sweetheart, hello, hello again, sh-boom, and hopin’ we’ll meet again…”

“You look so good in my shirt,” he murmurs, coming up behind you again. He kisses your cheek, resting his hand on your hip. “I ever tell you that?”

“You’ve mentioned…” you reply, relaxing under his touch.

“I love when you travel with me,” Poe says. “Thank you for coming.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, my love.”

Poe gently takes your chin in his hand to turn your head towards him. He presses a deep kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, he has a piece of bacon in his hand.

“Impatient?” You tease.

“It’s bacon. I’m hungry.”

You laugh when he takes a bite and his face lights up. “You’re cute,” you remark. His face goes red and he dips his head.

“Shut up.”

“No.” You tilt his chin up with your finger, pressing your lips to his. “You’re downright adorable, Poe Dameron.”

“You’re relentless.”

“You love me.”

“I adore you.”

You smirk. “I know.”

Some mornings, the two of you have to rush around, packing for another plane or prepping for another race, but not today. Poe’s got a free day, and he intends to spend every minute of it with you. Even if it’s just swaying in the kitchen, teasing each other. As long as he’s with you, he’s happy.

A/N: I just wanted a soft morning with Poe and the song had me in a fluffy mood so I hope y'all enjoy this because I know I did! Feedback is encouraged and appreciated! Have a lovely day y'all <3

#poe dameron x male reader #x male reader #male reader #poe dameron #oscar isaac #oscar issac x male reader #star wars x male reader #star wars