#six thousand years of fucking waiting

[chrollohearttags]

went back on that hellscape of an app FKA Twitter for two minutes and it’s a bunch of creators having meltdowns bc somebody criticized their lil convention they went to. Like meat riding a con is insane behavior as is but getting mad bc somebody made a valid point in the fact that there was organization for an event that made millions is insane. They got 22K people piled into a building, no schedules just vibes and no order and you’re mad at the ATTENDEE? wild. Not to mention every two scrolls is some bigoted ass take. I can’t be vexed.

#deactivated that acct after 7 years because I’m so over these ppl #the black anime community is so fucking stupid I’m sorry shejshdh #and then the one girl talking about ‘it’s the only safe space for black creators’ #by that she means ones w big platforms bc they were very much talking shit abt anybody who isn’t #making fun of wigs and costumes at their big ass ages #elitism but ✨black ✨ 😍😍 #they’re so fucking corny I cannot shsjshdh #if I’m spending thousands and y’all have me waiting in line for six hrs only to unregister me #I’m airing the whole thing out I’m sorry #that dumb event is over #I wish they’d find a new personality trait #not even joking when I say this is my only safe space #my only non writing rant yall will get I promise

[menderash]

How can you talk about anything else today. She was six. Millions heard her cries begging to be saved. We heard her older cousin be slaughtered, heard the baby pull the phone from her cousin's dead hands, heard her cry and beg to be saved, to be allowed to live, to be pardoned for a crime no one in that fucking car committed. The occupation knew she was there, knew she was the only one alive in that pile of bodies, and they killed her anyway. They knew, they knew, they knew. They allowed paramedics to approach her, and then bombed them just mere meters away from her, then killed her. The occupation allowed them to believe she could be saved and then killed all of them moments away from her rescue. She was in a car fleeing the evacuation zone along the correct route as instructed. The ambulance waited three hours, three hours of her being trapped between the rotting bodies of her dead family, for the occupation's permission to save her, and when they gave it, the occupation killed them anyway. What else is there to say. How can you quantify that level of cruelty. How many more worse things have happened that we don't have a recording of? How much evil has the zionist occupation regime been allowed to get away with in the interest of western imperialism? How many six year olds who love bratz, who have a bluey plush, who want to grow up to be doctors or ballerinas or astronauts, have been sniped from this earth? Their bodies desecrated, left to bloat and be eaten by animals and have their graves bulldozed and their bodies deliberately crushed beneath treads like roadkill? At least ten fucking thousand. At least.

[nightgoodomens]

Metatron: Almighty, it’s done.

God *hungover*: Wait, what’s done?

Metatron: I told Aziraphale ‘fuck Crowley’. So he did.

God *groans*: You weren’t actually meant to tell him… ah never mind, at least they finally did it. Six thousand years is way too fucking long. Satan said it’s gonna take them at least ten thousand, so I won. Again. Fucking brilliant. I’m gonna call him. Tell Aziraphale I can marry them when they’re free.

Metatron: ……. M-marry them?

God: ???

Metatron: ???

God: Metatron?

Metatron *sweating*: Yes?

God: I feel like your fuck is different to my fuck.

#good omens #crowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #aziracrow

[actual-changeling]

i'm going insane over the few years in-between seasons we did not get to see, especially crowley and his glasses.

they have a PLACE. he puts them there as soon as he enters, he feels so comfortable in the bookshop by now he doesn't even need to get drunk first or wait a while. just. immediately takes them off. bares his soul to aziraphale. let's him see.

how did we get here??? how many hours did he spend with aziraphale, just growing more and more relaxed around him, trusting him. trusting that he won't abuse his vulnerability, hell, at that point aziraphale probably cherishes it. yellow IS his favorite colour, after all. crowley's yellow, to be precise.

and the statue he places them on - was that aziraphale asking him to put them somewhere safe after crowley accidentally sat on them or dropped them? maybe it started out as a careless 'i'm just throwing them there i dont give a fuck' and then just. happened again. and again. until suddenly it was *his* spot.

aziraphale has gotten so used to seeing his eyes it will kill him when crowley stops taking his glasses off around him, seeing only his own reflection instead mutual affection.

do you think he will forget the exact colour of his eyes in heaven? do you think he will try to remember the shade and be unsure if it's correct, trying to find the right memories but never being confident that this one is right?

six thousand years and suddenly all he wants is to be able to look into crowley's eyes again.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #good omens season 2 #it's 1:30 am and my sleep meds are kicking in excuse this senseless ramble

[81folklore]

heaven - OP81 - part 5

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: australian adventures of yn and oscar

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: IM BACK WRITING MY FAVORITE ANGELS!!! ive been feeling slightly more motivated so i thought id just continue a story instead of creating a new one (at least whilst im in this slump) i do hope you enjoy!!

heaven masterlist masterlist

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 7,191 others

oh australia how ive missed you and your gifts 💫

view comments

user3 whats the best gift australia has given you??

yourusername oscar!!! liked by oscarpiastri

user3 SHUT THE FUCK UP WHATTTT?!?!??

user62 i feel SICK THEYRE SO??

oscarpiastri oh my goddd

oscarpiastri 😍😍

user4 you cannot separate oscar from that emoji

yourusername not even i can😕😕

oscarpiastri you can pry it from my cold dead hands

user81 that dog is so stinking cute

user22 yess but that dress is GORGEOUS

user5 right shes sooooooo pretty liked by oscarpiastri

user88 australia is the one whos lucky!! liked by oscarpiastri

user67 like they are being blessed with the yn ln

yourfriend3 you are oh so lovely liked by oscarpiastri

yourfriend3 i take it back stop your boyf from liking my comments abt you

yourusername he loves me🥰🥰

oscarpiastri i do!! its true!!

oscarpiastri 📍location home

liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 52,281 others

my favorite lady in my favorite place

view comments

user18 SHE IS HIS FAVORITE LADY OH MU GOD😭😭

user17 AND HIS FAVORITE PLACE IS HOME😭

user24 oh my god she is gorgeous liked by oscarpiastri

user84 i will never ever get tired of them

user28 i hope theyre in love forever and ever liked by oscarpiastri

user55 oscar liking this comment☹️☹️

yourusername my babyyyy

yourusername oh how ill always love you liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri 🩷🩷

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 8,729 others

the day you entered my world you changed my entire view on life and myself, you help me find love and happiness in things i never expected and showed me how to appreciate the smallest things in life.

sometimes i wonder if im being selfish, how can i be worthy of all the love and time youve given to me? surely there is someone more deserving, someone who needs everything youve showed me more? i think about what i must have done in a past life to be gifted with you and then i wonder if we are destined.

maybe i dont deserve you in this life, maybe i dont deserve you in a thousand other lifes. but i believe we are meant to be which means for every universe we dont find eachother, we find eachother in a hundred more

im so glad we found each other, i dont know if i deserve you but i promise i will cherish and appreciate the way i have done for 6 years and the way i will continue to love you for as long as this universe allows and then i will love you even longer in another

six years used to feel like forever but now ill never have enough time, happy anniversary lovely

view comments

oscarpiastri you continue to help my heart keep beating

oscarpiastri i didnt think love was real until i found you

oscarpiastri we will find eachother in every universe i promise

oscarpiastri you are the prettiest and most lovely person i have ever met and you deserve everything and more

yourusername my good looking boyyyy🩵🩵

user29 i have no words i cant comprehend what im reading

user10 i feel so violently ill they are so sweet

user62 my parents everyone!!!

user53 is that an engagement ring?!

user33 wait pause

user5 theres no way right??

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 62,379 others

you’ve impacted my life in more ways than you will ever know and im so thankful that i get to love you for all eternity, you have such a beautiful soul and i can’t believe i get to hold it

happy six years and to a lifetime more

view comments

yourusername you are so so incredible

yourusername i dont know how many other ways i can say it but i love you

oscarpiastri i love you too

user66 they are sooooo

user7 oh my gooooood i am a puddle of tears

user56 you just dont get them like i do

user32 anyone else sad we didnt get a long caption like yns was beautiful

yourusername oscar said more than enough in his letter☺️

user43 OH MY GOD HE WROTE HER A LETTER😭😭😭😭

user3 six years.. six damn years and they are still so in love

user48 guys are they engaged or not😭

yourusername not!! we are still young and exploring ourselves and the world and we are still grow into better people. we didnt want to rush when we still have so many things to do but we will when we know we are ready🩷 liked by oscarpiastri

user65 i didnt know it was possible to love two random strangers so much☹️☹️

yourusername added to their story

seen by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 9,372 others

text on story reads: 🩷🩷🩷

oscarpiastri added to their story

seen by yourusername, aussiegrit and 105,482 others

text on story reads: sunshine ☀️☀️

twitter

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #private!yn!oscar #81folklore #f1 x you

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 3,498

Warning: stress, yelling, fighting, kisses, insecurity, self doubt, language, suggestive, whipped cream

A/N: Things are getting are getting spicy now!! Y'all aren't ready for part four!! A reminder, of you want to be included in the tag list YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One, Part Two, Part Four Part Five Part Six

The smell of cedarwood, one you used to love, was now suffocating you like a toxic gas. Your eyes blurred in shock as Toji pressed his chest against your back. Letting you know this was real and you weren't in a drunken haze.

“Are you listening to me?” Toji spoke again, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “I told you we need to talk.”

A year and a half ago, the old you would have given in, allowing him to give you any explanation he pulled out of his ass. You, however, had grown in your time away. You didn't have to listen to him.

“I don't want to talk to you.” Your voice trembles, not in fear, but in a boiling rage that was settling in your chest. “Get the fuck off me.” The disbelief in his eyes is almost comical, but he doesn't move. “Get! The! Fuck! Off! Me!”

Your ex listened this time, promptly stepping back and holding both of his hands out in front of him. “Jesus fuck, sorry. But I'm serious about talking to you.”

A scoff of disbelief is the only answer you gave him as you washed your hands. If you kept your body constantly moving, you wouldn't freeze up again. Despite your best efforts, your traitorous hands continued trembling. Unfortunately for you, Toji noticed this, his eyes lingering on your hands before drifting to your face as you dried them off.

“Do I make you that nervous?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” The rage finally boiled over, like hot milk on a stove. “Nervous?! You think I'm nervous?!” You stormed forward, jabbing your pointer finger into his chest.

Your rage and finger jabs only have Toji rolling his eyes. His much larger hand shot up, grabbing and squeezing your wrist. His skin on yours made you feel a certain way. That contact was something you craved before, something you felt like you needed. Now? That contact made your stomach churn with nausea.

“Ya’ done lying?”

“Let me go.”

“No, I asked you a question. Are ya’ done lying?” Toji steps forward, crowding you against the wall. “Because we both know you're lying to yourself. You are nervous; you've been nervous since you stepped foot here in Kyoto with your friend.” His words stung like lashings from a whip. “I make ya’ nervous; that's why you've been avoiding me. And I don't like being ignored.”

A rage burned in your eyes as he waited for you to respond. How dare he corner you and act like you were the problem! You yank your wrist away, glaring up at him.

“That friend of mine is my boyfriend! And I'm not nervous around you. I can't stand you. Being around you makes me sick.”

“Oh, that's rich. Why is that Y/N? Why do I make you sick?”

“What makes me sick?! Toji, did you forget you broke off our engagement a month before our wedding? You broke my heart! Being around you fuckin’ hurts; do you not understand that!? So what you see as nervousness is me trying to heal!” Toji’s eyes widened as you continued your rant. “So that’s why I have no desire to talk to you! I don't care what you have to say!” But knowing Toji, he wouldn't back down so easily. “But you won't leave me alone unless you say whatever the fuck it is you want to say! So what is it, come to gloat about your life as a married man? Come to show me a picture of your pretty wife?”

“Watch it.”

“Or did she find out about your gambling problem and can't handle it? So you want me back so I can take care of us?” You had fully intended for that to hurt, but your insults just bounced off him. A smirk turned at the corner of his scarred lip.

“You think I'd actually want you back?”

His words stung like a million scorpion stings. It knocked the air out of your lungs as you felt your stomach drop. Toji slowly came to the realization of what he had said, his smirk falling as he saw the tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, fuck, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shoved your way past him; your heart thundered in your ears as you grabbed your sweater and bag off your chair. All of your friends were far too drunk to notice the state you were in, waving bye as you headed for the door, dialing Satoru’s number. Hot tears flowed down your cheeks as you tried to keep some composure.

He picked up on the first ring. “Our first drunk call; I'm so excited to hear all the cute things you're gonna say.” When Satoru doesn’t hear the commotion of the bar, his teasing tone vanishes. “Y/N?” God, he sounds sincere, like he might care for you. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

“T-Toji’s here, and I—” a sob rips through your chest, “I can't do this.”

“Where are you?” You listen to him shuffling a door opening and closing.

“Outside of the bar.”

“Is he around?”

“N-No.”

His breathing was shallow; the background was breaking in and out. Was he—running? Why would he come running to you?

“Good, stay there; I'm on my way.” The line went dead, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone.

The inn was nearby, so it shouldn't take him long, maybe a ten-minute walk, maybe faster since he was running. But he couldn't come soon enough. Your head kept turning toward the door to the bar, anxiously waiting to see if Toji came out. God, you prayed he wouldn't.

Your chest was constricting, and your eyes blurred as you fought against the tears threatening to escape. You didn't want to cry more. Because it was a waste of time, energy, and tears. There was no sense in crying over something so silly!

“You think I’d actually want you back?”

His words were on a loop. Slicing into your still bleeding heart, cutting new wounds, deeper ones. Which was so stupid! You would never get back to him! Even if he asked you to. You two had grown apart, your relationship toxic. So why did it bother you so much? Words from a man that hadn't been in your life for so long!

You glanced towards the night sky, the stinging feeling slowly turning numb. You knew deep down why it hurt. A reason that made you feel sick and weak. Like some fucking pathetic character from a soapy book.

If Toji didn't want you, who would?

A hand gently grabs your shoulder, turning you around. You turn, expecting to look up to the almost magical blue eyes of Satoru. Only you can find dark blue eyes. You step back, only to have Toji grab your purse and yank it, pulling You back towards him.

“Leave me the fuck alone!!” Toji flinched at your broken plea. “Haven't you done enough tonight?!”

“Look, I’m sorry! I didn't mean it like that!”

You fight against every urge to punch him. “Oh!? Okay, what did you mean when you said, ‘You think I’d actually want you back?’ Because it seems like you meant it to me!” Your purse falls to the ground as Toji pulls you closer. His hands clamp down on your upper arms to prevent you from moving away.

“Will you shut the fuck up for five damn minutes!?”

More tears stream down your face; your eyebrows knitted together pathetically as he bent down slightly, forcing you to look up at him. There was no use fighting it. He wasn't going to stop; you were trapped.

Satoru was breathing heavily as he turned the same corner he'd walked with you earlier. When he did, he froze in his tracks, seeing you and your prick of an ex standing outside. Toji was squeezing you, yelling something in your face. Satoru’s heart clenched when he saw the way your eyebrows pinched together. You were distraught, visibly upset, and you—you were crying.

Something inside Satoru’s chest snapped, and he bolted forward, rage painted over his features. “Hey!”

Your head whirled towards his voice, Y/H/C hair, tear droplets flying. He swears it happened in slow motion; fuck, you were even pretty when you were upset. Your face softened, the disdain melting away like snow in the spring. All because he was there, knowing that he had that sort of effect on you made his heart race. Making you happy was all Satoru had wanted to do.

Something he had never felt with clients before. Because the more time he spent with you, the more Satoru got to know you, the less you became another client on his calendar. To him, you weren't just a number, a dollar in his bank account, were Y/N.

His Y/N.

Not this fucking assholes. Not anymore! Satoru grabbed Toji’s wrist, forcing him to release you. Your ex-fiance glowered as Satoru pulled you to stand behind him. When your hands clung to his shirt, he released his vice grip on Toji’s wrist.

“You again.” Toji sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, me, the boyfriend.” Satoru crowded Toji, the two men face to face. “I’m guessing you didn't hear me the first time.” He eyed your ex up and down. “If Y/N wants to talk to you, she will. But as you can see, she doesn't, so fuck off.”

Satoru backed off as you buried your face into his back. He knew you were crying. Still, your body was trembling, hands clinging to him, keeping you grounded so you didn't break down. The state you were in irked him the wrong way, and his fist clenched, longing to hurt the dick who'd hurt you as much as he’s done to you.

“I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and Y/N. So you fuck off.”

“I'm Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo family business. I'm also dating Y/L/N Y/N, and I plan on being with her for a very long time! Got it?! Good now, if you’ll excuse us; I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner, asshole.”

Satoru felt your grip loosen around him, a little gasp leaving your lips. “T-Toru.” A nickname, you gave him a nickname. God, he felt like he could fly.

“I got you, let's go.” Turning around, Satoru started leading you down the sidewalk.

He barely made it a foot away before he was yanked back by the collar of his shirt. Both fists shot up, ready to fight. Toji instead shoved your purse in his face. “Some boyfriend, you are almost leaving without her bag.” Toji waved at you as he headed back into the bar. “We’ll finish this another time, Y//N.” Satoru glared at him until Toji was inside; the second he was gone, Satoru grabbed your hand, leading you down the street.

You didn't say a word, but your smaller fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to lead you away. He pulled into a ramen shop, helping you in a booth before sitting across from you. You were wiping at your eyes, but more tears kept rolling down your cheeks. Satoru’s heart shattered seeing you so upset like this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccuped, “I god, I'm sorry, Satoru.”

“No, don't apologize.” He reached out, replacing your hand with his own. His thumbs gently brushed tears away. “What happened?”

You laughed, but it wasn't your usual happy laugh. No, this laugh was full of sorrow. Satoru didn't like it when you laughed like that.

With a breathless sigh, you leaned into his hand. “Toji cornered me in the bathroom. He kept wanting to talk, and well, things were said.” Your lips brushed over Satoru’s palm as you spoke. “In the midst of my anger, I asked if his wife found out about his gambling problem. And if he wanted me back to take care of him like I did. Jokingly, of course, and he—” Your bottom lip quivered. “H-He uhm, god, it's so stupid—”

“It's not stupid, please tell me.”

You took a deep breath, “He said, ‘You think I’d actually want you back.’” Your voice was so fragile as you repeated those pain-ridden words to him.

“Are you kidding me?” Satoru’s other hand cupped your other cheek. Holding your face gently as he watched as your face contorted with emotional pain. “This is the part where you tell me you're joking, right? That he didn't say that shit to you?” The mind-numbing silence was the answer to his question. “That motherfucker, I should have knocked him out when I had the chance.”

“I-I didn't even mean it, ya’ know? I wouldn't get back together with him.”

“Good, because there's no way in hell I would allow you to get back together with that asshole. You deserve so much more.”

Your Y/E/C widened and glittered under the lights at his words. “You think I deserve more?” Satoru nodded, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. The look on your face was full of hope, a look Satoru had never seen grace your beautiful features before. But that light faded just as fast as it appeared.

It was doubt; you had been hurt so much in the past that you doubted the genuine words he was saying.

”Hey, I don’t say shit. I don’t mean.” Satoru whispered.

”I know, I just, I’m so confused.”

”Confused because you’re drunk?”

”No, I’m pretty much sober now.” You sighed, pulling away from his grasp. “I just, I’m conflicted.”

”Conflicted over what?” He cocked an eyebrow as you flushed. “Tell me.”

You gulped down some water before running a hand through your hair. “I just, us.” Satoru perked up. “I know I hired you to be my wedding date and all. But I like you.” You chugged more of the water down like it gave you courage. “And it’s not only because you’re super fucking hot. I also like talking to you, god I love talking to you.” Satoru’s cheeks flushed, watching you closely. “But what is the cherry on top of the sundae of you being everything I’d want in a partner is the fact that you came running for me today.”

”Y/N—“

”You dropped everything and came running to me. Like a scene from a Rom-Com.” Your nails clanked nervously over the glass, your gaze drifting toward the awe-struck Satoru. “I know I hired you, and this is your line of work. But I can't stop thinking about the kisses—mmmph!”

Before you could finish your last word, Satoru grabbed your face, kissing you deeply. His fingers gripped your chin but shifted to hold your cheek in his hand, cupping it gently. With wide eyes, you slowly kissed him back, melting against him.

Satoru slowly pulled away, his thumb moving down, caressing your bottom lip as he looked into your eyes. “I’ve never felt like this about a client before.” He panted softly.

”Really?” You smiled wide as Satoru hummed happily.

”That day we talked on the phone, I knew there was something different about you. Something I want to explore.” You giggled, tears forming in your eyes as he wiped them away. “So, what do you say we order dessert here for a little date?”

You looked around before shaking your head. “No.” Satoru’s face went pale as he looked you over, searching for an explanation. “The dessert here is shit, let’s go back to the inn, and I’ll make us something?” Satoru's breath was full of relief as he stood up, grabbing your hand tight.

”You are such a brat.”

Despite being a brat, Satoru followed you back to the inn. He watched with curious eyes as you moved around the clean kitchen. You were pulling out mixing bowls, cream, and chilled sheet cake. Your tiny hands so gracefully washed strawberries, your touch gentle as if they would fall apart if you handled them any other way.

Everything you did was done with skills he did not possess. Slicing strawberries, cutting the vanilla cake into the perfect symmetrical cubes. Satoru found himself under a spell as he watched your every move. God, you looked so gorgeous in a zone like this. Your smile, the way you move with purpose, focused on constructing the dessert you promised him.

You peeked at him from the corner of your eye. He grinned as he rose from his seat, striding towards you as you poured heavy whipping cream into the stand mixer before switching it on at medium speed. Satoru had a certain gleam in his eyes as he oh’d and awed at the cream inside the mixer. He was so fascinated, and he looked like a child in a candy store.

You tapped his shoulder, handing him a small vial. “Want to help me? You can put the vanilla in.” Satoru eagerly took it, opening it. He sniffed the bottle before looking down at you.

“Give me a hand?”

“Sure,” your hand slowly ran over the top of his, “just do a little bit.” The two of you poured some vanilla into the mixing bowl. A rich smell wafted up in the air. “Was this just an excuse for me to touch your hand?”

“What?” His tone was full of faux confusion. “No, never.” He quickly put the vial of vanilla down, his fingers interlacing with yours as he pulled you into his side. “What's the next step, chef?”

“We add in sugar.” You worked your culinary magic, sweetening the whipped cream. “And that is how I make my whipped cream; I use it at the bakery.”

“I love the whipped cream at the Ichigo Cafe.” Satoru groaned out, looking into the bowl. “So fluffy and sweet!”

You tapped your fingers on the bowl. “Why don't you taste it? Tell me if it's sweet enough for you. Mr. Six packets of sugar in my coffee.” He turned to face you, resting his hand on his hip with a smirk.

“I am not at all ashamed of my likes, Y/N.” he pulled the top of the mixer up. “I like my treats sweet; I am the Gordon Ramsey of desserts!”

“Satoru, watch out for the switch!”

Satrou smacked the switch while scooping a finger full of whipped cream. The whisk attachment spun around several times, splattering the two of you with bloats of sweetened cream. Satoru quickly turned it off, looking around at the white mess.

A big blob of whipped cream fell off his nose, smacking into the metal table. The sound, his eyes slowly glancing at it, and the stunned look on his face knocked over your giggle box. Your head tilted back as rich, warm laughter flooded the kitchen. Making Satoru melt as he wiped the whipped cream off his face, licking it off his fingers.

The sight of his fingers dipping into his mouth. Had you choking on your laughter? Cerulean eyes burned as he slowly pulled his finger out, smirking. His thumb brushed out your lip, smearing whipped cream over it. The action had you breathing heavily.

“Tastes sweet, but I think you're sweeter.” He leaned down, his lips brushed over your cheek. “Ten times sweeter.”

You closed the distance this time. Pusjingnhis back against the table. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down and deepening the kiss—the taste of your whipped cream lingering on his tongue. Your sudden boldness had Satoru stumbling, eyes wide as you shoved Your tongue in his mouth, much like he had done to you earlier.

He whined, shutting his eyes tight as he grabbed Your hips, pulling you tight against him. “You're so beautiful, god Y/N.” He whispered in between heated kisses. “I think I started falling for you since that first phone call.” His honesty had you whining against his lips as he sucked and nipped at your bottom lip.

“Satoru~”

“God, I want you; I want you so bad, Y/N.”

Your heart lurched into your throat as you pulled away, staring into those blue eyes you were falling for. Satoru wanted you. He legitimately wanted you. Not just to take you out on a date, but he wanted you in ways you hadn't been wanted in a very long time. Ways you told yourself and Satoru you didn't need. But the desperation in his kisses, how his tongue moved against yours, and the hard bulge growing in his pants had your heart thundering, utterly breathless, and oh-so-wet

“Toru.” He groaned, trailing kisses over your neck, his hand squeezing your hips. “Toru.”

He pulled back, shutting his eyes tight as he rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he sighed, “I’m sorry as much as I want you. I don't want to rush you.” Your hands trailed over his toned stomach, fingers undoing the button to his jeans.

“Toru, take me to our room.”

Tag list: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO!!)

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovely212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator

#escort!gojo #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk reader smut #jjk y/n #jjk #jjk reader insert #jjk gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu satoru #reader x satoru #gojou satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #satorugojo #reader jjk

[shaisuki]

｡‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧｡ ─── SATORU AND HIS OBSESSION WITH YOUR CHEEKS.

“satoru, no.”

“but”

“no.”

stepping back and making a distance from your boyfriend who is close to inhaling your cheek like a black hole. the white haired man whines, his hair deflating with a pout in his face like he was a child denied with candy in a store.

“satoru, behave. you're in the presence of your students and mine. set a good example for them.” you scolded him. glancing at the students who where at the school grounds waiting for the schedules to be brought up. flipping the papers clipped in the clipboard to check their activities for the incoming battle royale and training regimes.

“i love when you're strict (y/n)-chan~” he sing-sang. his face bright and there's a comical blush visible in his cheeks and in the background it looks like someone set up a green screen for the flowers and what looks like glitter sparkling in the background.

you sigh. satoru couldn't act like at his age but you love that side of him but sometimes it made you want to cry from how he distracts you in front of the students. their image of you turning into a less serious one due to satoru's antics and get often teased about it.

the first years stared at you two. they think you were so fed up with their teacher's antics that you were so close at beating up his ass which is true. a little. but yes.

“(y/n)-sensei and gojo-sensei are really going at it.” yuuji mused. staring in awe at his two teachers, two polar opposites. “keh, i'll pay good money to watch (y/n)-sensei punch gojo-sensei.” nobara added. the brunette waiting for some action to happen and she's going to be blessed.

you thought satoru would be done with his antics but no. you were wrong. the moment you dropped your guard down came the rikugan and limitless holder snaking his arms to your soft middle immediately. pressing you against his back and before you could squirm his other hand cupping your soft jaw to meet his lips. his soft, pink lips parted slightly before opening fully and engulfing your cheek in one massive bite.

chomp!

you let out a silent gasp before biting your lower lip to muffle the sound threatening to spill from your lips. “mmm....” gojo hums. a satisfying noise of contentment in his part while he nibbles your supple cheek like it was the softest mochi he ever tasted.

your mind generating a thousand ways to beat gojo and how to forget this had ever happened in front of people, your students nonetheless. such a inappropriate sight for the youngsters to see. you didn't dare to meet their gazes.

the first years, a disgusted look mixed with pity as they watch you get the worst kind of pda anyone can experience. kissing they can take it but sucking on someone's cheek — it's weird.

“thank you for the meal.” he says as he completely detaches his lips from your cheek. his hold on you loosening. a big smile in his face after the nibbles and sucking your cheek. you look at him in disbelief. your cheek covered in his saliva.

“eugh.” you grimaced. wiping your cheek with the back of your palm. “i'm done with you.” he heard you say and he dramatically reached out to you. pinching your cheeks and you slapped it away. “you're not.” he reasons out. “i'm serious.” you deadpan at him. “you're (y/n). not serious.” unfucking believable. he pouts at you and your fist met his shoulder. bypassing his infinity and followed by a kick. oops. your eyes widens as he dropped in the ground.

“that hurts!” itadori exclaims. biting his fist and as a man he knows how painful it was to be kicked in the nuts. not that he experienced it.

nobara's eyes twinkles. fists pumping in the air. deserved. it's funny how the strongest sorcerer alive — the holder of six eyes and limitless is on his knees. clutching his part where you kicked him.

“oh fuck, satoru. i didn't mean to.” you immediately comfort him. rubbing his shoulder to ease the pain. it didn't help with the pain but you felt guilty about it. you didn't mean to kick him in that part.

“are you taking back the "i'm done with you part"?” he asks you and you nodded. not giving the question about the thought. “yeah. i'm sorry.” you murmur. “kiss me.” he requested in which you complied. pressing a kiss to his forehead. even he's like this — you love him.

it was too late before you realize he was faking it. he started giggling and you roll your eyes at him. falling for his antics again. “i can't believe you!” you stand up, huffing. picking up the clipboard and gojo is quick to call you. “(y/n), it's true. it really hurts.” he says. wincing a bit and you gave him a side eye.

“next time, it's going to be real and i'm doing it hard.” you warned him and gojo just laugh at you. draping his arms around you. “you love me though.” unfortunately, it's true. you can't deny that.

the trio stared at you two. it looks like they'll be having second thoughts if they're given a shot in having a relationship. hopefully, it's not weird as their teachers.

#ᝰ.ᐟ shai's drabbles #chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #plus size reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x chubby reader

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 11

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, arguments. Angst. Toxic behavior. Johnny is struggling. Everyone is going through it. Johnny struggles.

"No contact?!" Johnny chokes, and you hesitate on the other end of the line, sharp breath rattling through the speaker phone. 

“My… my therapist thinks it would be good, to try it. For thirty days. Just to see how I feel.” Johnny’s fingers stretch across the front pocket of his pants. 

Thirty days? 

You’ve already been gone five, and it feels like five years.

He balks. No. No, this. This can't be. You have to be home, with them. Where you belong. Where they can fix it. 

“Ye… no, I thought… I thought this was just a break?” He doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s ragged and torn to shreds, and now fear makes it tremble. 

What does this mean? 

“It is, it is. I just… I have to try this.” You sound as sad, as fucked up as he does, and he wants to scream, throw the phone against the wall, say screw it all to hell and go over to your rental, bang on the door until you let them inside. 

“Of course, darling.” Simon soothes, and Johnny stares at him like he's lost his grasp on reality. Of course? Of course?! “We understand, we… we can do that. We’ll do whatever you want.” 

“No.” Johnny cuts in, he can’t stop himself, can’t control his mouth. He can’t agree to this, to not talking to you, or seeing you for thirty days. He can’t do it. “I-“

“ Johnny.” 

“Johnny-“ You both say his name at the same time. Yours is a plea. Simon’s is cautionary, finger seeking the mute button, cutting you out of the conversation for a split second, long enough for him to utter a warning. 

“Do not push her on this. We need to let her decide right now. She’s in control.” 

“Hello?”

“We’re here.” Simon assures you, unmuting the phone. “We understand. No contact, thirty days. Will you reach out, afterwards?” 

“I… I will, I promise.” 

“And you’ll take care of yourself?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a gulp. Simon’s façade cracks, enough that Johnny can see the fear that lurks there, the worry. 

“Ye-yeah. I am. I will.” 

“Will you come to bed?”

Johnny’s thumbs press together, overlapping where his fingers stay knitted tight, grasping onto one another like he’s holding onto himself for dear life.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in and then releases it slowly through his nose. It’s a self-soothing technique, one he’s seen you do a million times. But once he’s done, his response is no less acidic. “I cannae sleep.”

Silence is his answer, until-

“Johnny.” Simon’s forearm wraps across his shoulders, pulling him backwards from the stool and into the cushiony warmth of his chest, heat burning into his back. Simon’s always been a furnace, a giant, weighted, heated blanket, his touch one of safety, security. Care.

But right now, all it feels like is anguish.  

“Si.” He croaks, tears welling up behind his eyes. “I cannae do this any longer. I cannae… I need her back.”

“We need to be patient, and respect-“

“Respect?” Johnny blurts, incredulous. “No, No, I… We should be there, right now. We should be standing outside her door, we should be fightin’ for her, nae sitting ‘ere, waiting. Showin’ her how much she means; how sorry we are.” The warmth pulls away, an exasperated sigh blowing across the back of his neck.

“I’m not having this conversation again.” Simon is curt, growing cold, and it fuels the burning rage building inside Johnny’s stomach.

“Of course, because why would ye? It’s already settled in yer mind, isn’t it? That we just sit here, and wait, and let her slip away because ye coudnae keep yer mouth shut!” He’s said the same thing a thousand different ways over these last three weeks. Dressed Simon up and down six ways to Sunday over it, different verbiage each time.

The conversation always ends the same.

“Can you forgive me?” 

“Of course I can but I’m still mad at ye.” 

The anger foils away, ebbing into sadness, despair, and Johnny’s sight goes black when he buries his face in his hands.

“I miss her.” He whispers to the floor. The warmth returns and wraps him in a snug embrace, soft words hummed against the shell of his ear, each one punctuated with a kiss.

“I know, I know you do. I do too.”

“You nearly got yourself blown up!” Simon roars, and Johnny nearly flinches, steeling himself against his partner’s anger. “You can’t be makin’ stupid decisions like that. You jeopardized-“ 

“I knew what I was doin’. Dinnae question me, ye dinnae know anything about the tech behind those explosives, and ye know it.” He stands a little straighter, indignant, insulted, and Simon’s eyes narrow, before squinting, tension shoving his shoulders down in a slump. 

This isn’t like them. They’re always in lock step. One unit. One person, two hearts.  

The cot creaks beneath Simon’s weight, elbows against his knees. 

“Johnny, what’s going on?” 

“What do ye mean?” Dirty, cheap laminate flooring stares up at him, patterns in the grit swirling together like sand. 

“You’re not yourself. Price mentioned-“ 

“Ye and Price talkin’ ‘bout me?” Unsettled anger rattles him, immediate demand rising through his blood. Simon holds his hand up. 

“No. He was concerned, said you were a little rash the other day, on the recon. Asked if everything was alright.” He blinks. Blinks over and over, tries to quash the surging agony, the upheaval of his stomach. He fights it, tries to breathe through it, tries to stop it in his tracks, but a big grip wraps around his wrist, and tugs. 

He’s settled into Simon’s lap without another word, his nose to his neck, fingers stroking through his mohawk. 

“It’s going to be alright. You’re alright. We’re going to get her back, love.” 

“I cannae do this. Ye dinnae know-“ 

“I know.” He squeezes him, calming him, and Johnny melts a little, sharp blade of the pain turning dull. “I know that the best thing we can do right now is be patient, and respect what she’s asked us to do. When she’s ready, she’ll let us know, and we’ll do everything we can, to try to fix it. To make it better.” 

“I feel like there’s a hole-“ His hand rubs his chest, over and over, until the skin burns. “Like there’s a piece missing. I dinnae think I can do it, without her.” His voice breaks, and Simon’s attempt to calm him comes out like a strangled cry. “It hurts, Si.” 

“We won’t. We just have to be patient, Johnny. We have to. We have to show her we can do it.” Simon murmurs, and then they both slip into a sad silence, Johnny huffing through his tears against Simon’s chest until he’s dragging them both down into the little cot, escaping into the comfort of uneasy sleep. 

The flat is too quiet.

Lately, he’s been putting your favorite movies on in the small hours of the morning. Simon sleeps in now, restless until the sun starts to come up, and then he finally sinks beneath pull of dreams, or nightmares, whichever comes first.

So, Johnny curls up on the couch by himself, with your favorite tea, flip flopping between the rotation of movies that you always had rolling in the background, when you were painting, when you were cooking, or even reading.

But today, he paces. Back and forth from the bedroom, the kitchen, to the art room, the one you left half barren, the one that still holds nearly finished paintings, dried tubes of paint, stiff bristled brushes, long discarded for new ones, but not thrown away.

“I’m going to the gym, want to come?” Simon is hovering just outside the door, brows fixed together. He hasn’t stepped foot in here, Johnny has noticed, not since you left nearly a month ago. In fact, he avoids this room like the plague.

“No, ye go on.”

“You sure?” His head cocks in consideration, and then he nods.

“Yeah. Love ye.”

“Love you too. Be good.”

“Where the bloody hell have ye been?” Johnny seethes, arms crossed. Their half-eaten plates still sit cold on the table, mocking him since Simon left in the middle of the meal an hour ago. 

“Out. For a walk.” The hoodie comes up and over his shoulders, and Johnny catches a whiff of it.

Cigarette smoke.

“A walk, eh? Ye out walkin’, and smoking?”

“Johnny.”

“Dinnae Johnny me, ye’ve been smoking, I can smell it.”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” He snaps, turning his back, heading into the bedroom, the bathroom.

“Ye dinnae want to do what?”

“This. Fight. Argue.” The shower clicks on, steam slowly building from the floor as Simon shucks his joggers, his boxers, Johnny’s eyes struggling to stay fixed on his partner’s face.

“I’m not arguing, I… I dinnae understand how ye can be so casual about this, it’s-“ 

“What am I supposed to do?” Simon turns on him, still angry, still hurt from their conversation earlier. It brews beneath the surface like a finely veiled stormed, just barely held back. “Lose my head? Fall apart?” 

“I dinnae, talk to me?” Simon’s jaw clenches. Every scar on Simon’s back speaks to him, tells him stories, corroborates his witness accounts. Johnny wishes he could take them away; wishes he could kiss them. 

But Simon feels so far away now. He’s felt miles away since you left, since the bed slept three, table slept three, couch held three. 

“I’m right here, Si. I’m here.”

Johnny knows what he’s doing is wrong. He’s fully self-aware, but completely out of control. His legs carry him down the street on autopilot, barrage of requests and demands from his rational self trying to break through the encasement where he’s locked them away.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t. 

He can’t help it. He can’t do this… anymore. It’s killing him. It’s killing Si.

He worries it’s killing you.

He tells himself he’s just going to check on you, make sure you’re okay. He’s not going to bother you, just make you’re alive. He’s not going to stay, he’s just going to say hi, ensure you’re safe, healthy, and then leave.

If you even open the door.

Guilt, anxiety, fear all turns over in his stomach, freezing through his blood as he climbs the stairs to your long term rental. He just needs to see you, needs lay eyes on you, just once, and it will all be okay. He’ll be okay, once he knows you’ll be okay.

Simon is going to be so bloody pissed. He grimaces. He knows there will be hell to pay. That Simon will be enraged, disappointed. That he’ll be upset.

They made a promise. He made a promise. 

And now he’s going to break it, just like that.

He stands outside your door for too long, contemplating. Trying to sift through every decision he’s ever made, that led him to this point. He could still turn around, still go home, even though his finger is itching to ring the bell, a burning desire searing through his mind, urging him forward until his forehead is thunking softly against the wood, eyes closing.

Darling.

He can still see your face, your smile. The ways your eyes light up, the way your voice sounds when you say his name.

“I need ye, we need ye.” He whispers to no one, and then his finger presses the button, breath holding in his chest.

A few seconds pass. He strains to listen, latching onto the sound of footsteps inside, the click of a lock, the creak of the hinges, and then the door opens wide, revealing you on the other side.

“Darling.” You’re haunted, a flicker of a memory, a sharpened shadow sawing into the soft matter of his brain. You blink like you're trying to clear your vision, like you're struggling to see him, and he offers you an uneasy smile, something nervous and unsettled. You shake your head, mouth open in surprise, confusion, eyes wide.

“Johnny.”

#peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

[m0nsterqzzz]

(wife) Natasha Romanoff x reader

word count: 1.8 k

- Snow Day -

summary - snow days with your wife and kids

a/n - ahhhhhh i love snow and natasha.

-------------------------------------------------------

The moment Natasha jumps on top of you at 7am is the moment you decide to divorce her. 

Not seriously, but you did threaten to as she shook your body and practically screamed, “It’s snowing detka!” You opened one eye and sure enough, there was ice frost covering the outside of your bedroom windows and you could see snow covering the trees. 

“That’s nice honey. Now go back to bed.” She shakes her head, jumping off the bed and yelling as loud as she can- which is pretty fucking loud if you didn’t know-, “Kids! It’s snowing!”

Just like Natasha, your kids love the snow more than anything. Probably more than they love you. It's a few seconds before the cheering begins, and then your oldest sons come running into your room and jump onto the bed. “Wake up! Wake up!” Lev, the oldest, practically screams in your face, and then Andy- short for Anthony-, the middle child, lays his whole body weight on top of you. He’s fourteen years old, only two years younger than his older brother and eight years older than their little sister, but after years of working out with Natasha, he’s very strong and putting his whole body weight on top of you means basically cutting off your ability to breathe.

The sound of little footsteps entering the room makes you all stop, and Lena, your six year old daughter and youngest child, enters the room with her stuffed monkey in hand and crawls into the bed next to you. She loves the snow, but she also loves sleep just like you.

“Come here принцесса.” Lev mutters, grabbing his little sister from the bed and holding her in his arms. Her big brothers are her protectors, and if you and Natasha aren’t there to treat her like a princess, her brothers are.

“You wanna build a snowman little spider?” Andy asks, tickling her stomach as a method of waking her up. She giggles, a tired grin taking over her face as she looks out the window. “Snow day?” “Snow day Lena.” She nods, suddenly much more awake as she climbs out of his arms and back onto the bed. You think she's coming back to cuddle with you, but you should know by the devilish grin on her face- one very similar to your wifes- that is not true. She stands up on the bed, then lets her small body free fall onto yours. Was naming her after your sister in law (the one that totally did this shit to you a few months ago) a good idea? Probably not.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

And that's how you ended up gathering up all the scarfs in the house, which only turned out to be 4. Luckily, one of them was really long so you and Natasha can share it once you get outside. While the kids are in their rooms putting on thousands of layers, Natasha is in a tank top and leggings like she's about to go out on a run in the summertime. “Natalia. Where is your sweater? Sorry I meant, where are your sweaters? Plural because it’s fudging freezing outside.” 

She shrugs, continuing to make six cups of hot chocolate despite it being 7 in the morning. You chuckle. “The kids only need one cup each Nat.” She nods, looking down at the cups with a nervous smile. “I know…..three of these are for me.”

You grab a few sweaters for her, forcing her to put them on and then standing in front of her holding in a laugh at the now balloon shaped form of your wife. “You look um….you look amazing honey.” She can't see you considering the beanie going down to her nose and scarf up to about the same place but she can hear you searching through your pockets for your phone. “I know what you’re doing! Do I look stupid to you detka?”

“Yes….and this is going on the Avengers Christmas card.” You snap the photo, running away from her when she begins waddling towards you. 

You go stand out on the porch with her, waiting for your kids to come out and join you in the cold. Why they love the freezing temperatures will always be a mystery to you. When they come out, each kid is handed one cup of hot chocolate that they pull down their scarves to chug. They boy’s aren't too big as they’ve grown a lot over the years since you bought the pieces of fabric, but the new one you bought for Lena when winter season started is practically covering her whole head and Natasha has to pull it down in order to see the little girl's bright smile.

You take your seat at one of the rocking chairs you and your wife bought for your wrap around porch, piling several blankets over your lap and watching with a smile as the kids- that's including Natasha- run out into the chilly forest. When Lev was two years old and you had first adopted the few month old baby Andy, Natasha retired from her job as an Avenger and bought you and your kids a large piece of property and a big house. The land is filled with trees that kids spend evenings placing hide and seek in, and in the summer they go horseback riding with their mom. Natasha takes care of all the animals that live around the property and in the barn, and you spend days doing whatever you wish whether it's helping her or staying inside the house relaxing with the kids.

A snowball flies past your head, and you look up to glare at your wife. “Hey! Why are you looking at me? Look at them!” The redhead points to the kids, who stare at her bewilderment. “You know what? Fuck this.” You mutter, removing the blankets from your lap and running out into the snow. You form a snowball, hiding with your kids behind a stack of hay that Natasha left out the other day. Your wife was an Avenger, a spy, and a shield agent. That's all true. But you live with her. It’s not too hard to pick up on her habits. 

You can hear her crunchy footprints coming up behind the hay, but the kids have already formed even more snowballs so you hold up three fingers, slowly putting each on down until you have zero left. They all jump up, practically yelling war cries as they hit their mother with snowball after snowball. You take this chance to run into the forest nearby, hiding behind a tree with several snowballs in hand.

Once they run out of snowballs and the laughter dies down a bit, you sneak out from behind the tree and begin throwing the snow at the back of your wife. The children laugh, but she turns to you with a devil-like grin and you instantly know you’re in deep shit. “Okay Nat….Nat….our kids are watching. They can't see me go like this.” You dramatically tell her, only bringing more giggles out of your kids. 

“Get her mom!” Lev cheers, and your eyes widen as you look at him in mock offense. 

“Whose side are you on kid?” You ask. He shrugs, holding up another snowball and throwing it at Natasha's head.

“Neither. Every man for themselves!” He sprints into the forest, Andy close behind him and Lena standing out in the open with no snowballs in hand. 

Natasha grins at her, opening her arms for a hug. “Come here and give me a hug, little spider.” The six year old narrows her eyes at the Russian woman before sprinting after her brothers, but Natasha is already forming four snowballs when the little girl gets to the edge of the tree line.

You watch with a grimace as your wife throws each snowball at the back of the little girl, and the force of the snow makes Lena fall face first into a pile of coldness. You smack Natasha’s arm. “Natalia! She’s six years old!”

The redhead just laughs, turning her back to the forest as she grins at you. “She's my daughter. She can handle a couple snowballs to the face.” While she was defending letting her child get hypothermia, Lev and Andy were sneaking up behind her, each with a large pile of snow in their arms.

“Um….Nat-” You start with a giggle, but it's too late and the boys are lifting up the piles to drop them on top of her head. It breaks over her head, falling down in front and behind her like snow and leaving it all over her head and shoulders. “That was for Lena!” Andy yells and then they take back off to the forest, Natasha not far behind.

A few hours later, you watch as Natasha and the kids come back out of the forest, and then plop down in the snow with erratic breathing. You get up from your seat on the porch, walking onto the cold field and then laying down in it right next to your wife.

It's silent for a few minutes, but then the sound of shuffling begins. You look to your side to see Natasha moving her arms and legs, forming an angel looking shape in the snow. You all spread out a little before copying her movements. So that's what you guys do for like three minutes, before standing up and admiring your guy’s work. There are five different sized angels in the snow, the perfect replicas of you and your family.

“Mama. I’m cold.” With a small smile, Nat grabs her by her under arms and hoists her up on her shoulders. 

“I think that calls for more hot cocoa.” “Tasha-” You go to tell her that they’ve already had too much sugar and that Lena is practically shaking due to a sugar high, but she’s making her way into the house with the boys trailing behind her before you can say anything. You chuckle to yourself, following after them.

She’s already grabbing the packets of cocoa powder once you get inside, and the boys settle themselves on the couch as you snatch them from her. She groans, sending you her best pout. You've been married to her for a very long time though and rarely fall for that anymore. “No. They can have something else.” The redhead widens her eyes, trying to put on a puppy dog's face that has you laughing harder than you ever had.

“Fine.” You’re not going to tell her that the only reason you said yes is because Lena was doing the face too. The little girls were much cuter. They cheer, beginning to heat up some milk to put in the hot drink as you go sit down on the couch with your boys. 

Natasha and Lena join you guys, the older of the two sitting behind you on the couch so you can lay your back on her chest, and the boys let their little sister choose a movie which is why you end up watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Your wife isn’t focused on the movie though. She’s admiring you, how you chuckle at the funny parts as your eyes sparkle with joy.

Snow days are her favorite thing, but it’ll never compare to you.

-------------------------------------------------------

#natasha romanoff x you #marvel x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #the black widow #black widow x reader #snow day #marvel x you #marvel

[eiightysixbaby]

…and a happy new year

word count: 5.5k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: your first week with eddie since his return to hawkins is pure bliss. you both decide you need to ring in the new year the right way. or, you and eddie can't keep your hands off of each other at nancy's new year's party.

author's note: this is an extra oneshot taking place right after my fic i'll be home for christmas. you don't have to read that fic to understand this, but i'd be extremely grateful if you gave it a chance.

cw: 18+ ONLY — SMUT. established relationship, lots of petname usage, alcohol consumption, eye-fucking basically lol, unprotected piv (he pulls out tho), oral (f receiving), reader's nickname is 'sunny'

December 31st, 1989.

One week. Seven days. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. Six-hundred-and-four-thousand, eight hundred seconds. That’s how long it had been since you found out Eddie was home, give or take. Six of those days were spent with him as yours, finally all yours after such a long and grueling wait.

It’s New Year’s Eve, now, Christmas having passed quickly. You and Eddie had spent the time between holidays in a cozy, warm haze together. It was surreal when you woke the day after Christmas with him in your bed beside you. It was a week full of sleepovers, reacquainting yourself with the man you’d missed so much, rediscovering your most favorite parts about him. It was him stealing kisses from you basically every single chance he got, getting up in your personal space to press sloppy kisses to your cheek, or lingering pecks to your lips.

Kissing is as far as it had gone, for the meantime. That was fine, you didn’t need or expect anything more just yet, and neither did Eddie. The last thing he wanted to do was get his girl, and then fuck up by rushing things.

At least, it was fine, until right now. Until you decided to wear that outfit to Nancy’s New Year’s party. He was watching you from across the Wheeler’s basement, where you stood with Robin and Max laughing about something. A champagne flute was placed delicately between your fingers, your body relaxed. Your plaid skirt hugged your hips just right before fanning out around your thighs, the neckline of your sweater dipping just low enough to make him fantasize about what lies beneath.

He feels a little bit sick, ogling you like this. You’re so sweet, so soft, and he’s basically panting like a dog where he stands beside Steve.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’ve been eyeing him up, too — albeit more subtly. He just looks so good tonight, in his blue jeans (a rarity for him) and his sweater and that black leather jacket. The jeans might be a little too snug, hugging him perfectly in all of the right places, and you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t staring at his ass each time you could catch a glimpse.

At one point, you finally catch each other trying to gawk. You giggle around your mouthful of sparkling wine, giving him a shy little wave from across the room. His smile is immediate, eyes brightening as if he hadn’t seen you in ages. He’d spent every possible second with you since Christmas. It makes your heart skip a beat, the alcohol no longer the only thing making your face feel warm.

“You guys are disgusting,” Robin teases, her arm automatically slinking around Nancy when the smaller girl comes to stand beside her. Nancy perches on her toes, kissing Robin’s cheek.

“And we aren’t disgusting?” she asks, face scrunching up adorably when Robin laughs.

“Fair enough.”

“We won’t be offended if you abandon us to go canoodle him,” Max smirks, breaking into a laugh when you roll your eyes.

“There will be no canoodling,” you say, but it’s clear none of them believe you. Not like it matters, anyways. They’re just happy for you.

Eddie beats you to it, walking over to you before you can go to him. The television plays in the corner, the news broadcast of the big ball-drop event in New York crackling through the screen. He snakes his arm around you, pulling you into his side. His warmth immediately blankets you, and you look up at him with bright eyes.

“Hi handsome,” you say.

“Hey, sugar. Come here often?” he asks, giving you a sweet-dimpled smile before he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

It’s still a little surreal, that he’s yours now. That he’s home. That you can kiss him whenever you want; that he does kiss you whenever he wants. You look over Eddie’s shoulder, watching the way Jonathan and Steve pretend to gag from their spots on the worn-out old sofa.

“Hey! I saw that!” you shout at them, giving them a playful middle finger as Eddie leans down again to kiss your head.

His grip on your waist tightens, and it makes you press your thighs together, suddenly antsy. His hand seems to sear an imprint into your skin, permanently a part of you. Your body is hot, growing more eager to have him in ways you haven’t before.

“You look like you need a refill on your drink, sweetheart,” Eddie says, his face tilted downwards at you, tipping his own glass towards yours. “Let’s go get you some more?” he nods in the direction of the staircase, grabbing your hand when you agree.

He leads you up the rickety wooden steps, into the warmth of the kitchen. There’s a large spread of food laid out on the counter, and more alcohol than your group really needs considering there’s only six of you who are of drinking age. The second you’re upstairs, and positive there’s no one else lingering nearby, Eddie has your back pressed against the countertop. His lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, and you can feel the way he smiles into it when you pull him closer.

“You look so gorgeous tonight, you know that?” he murmurs against your ear, nose brushing into your hair. “I mean, you always do, but this outfit…” he drawls. “Baby.”

His hands wander, but don’t push. His words have an edge of scandal, but yet he speaks them so sweetly. It’s a good thing Nancy’s parents and her little sister Holly are out of town, otherwise you’d be playing an extremely dangerous game right now.

Your fingers trail up Eddie’s chest, walking up up up until they reach the neckline of his sweater. You tug on it, bringing his lips to yours and making him groan.

“You’re killing me, sweets,” he says, eyes boggling like a cartoon.

The glass of liquid courage you’d consumed has you feeling bold as you bat your lashes up at him. “I want you so bad…” you hum, placing a kiss to his jawline before slipping out of his grasp and refilling your glass of wine.

He barely lets you get away, hot on your trail with his front pressed to your back as you try not to spill the whole bottle in your hand.

“Baby. I know you’re not gonna say that and then walk away from me,” Eddie says, pitiful as you slip out of his reach once more.

“It’s less than an hour til midnight, Ed. We can’t miss the ball drop,” you reply simply, a wicked smirk on your face that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing. It feels like a little game, drawing out the anticipation longer, and it drives him crazy.

Maybe the alcohol was getting to you, or maybe he really was just ethereal tonight, because your hard-to-get demeanor was almost impossible to uphold. Especially with the way he was about ready to drop to his knees and beg for you.

“Sunny, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, grabbing you from behind before you can get away, pulling you against his chest just to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Always so dramatic, Munson,” you giggle, taking a sip of your freshly-poured drink before leading him back down to the basement.

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are in the middle of a riveting game of Twister, Will calling out the moves each of them will have to make. El and Max have resorted to sitting on the floor by the TV, watching the live broadcast beneath a blanket. You and Eddie join Robin, Nance, Jonathan, and Steve where they all sit on the furniture, Eddie letting you take a seat on his lap.

“I can’t believe it’s about to be 1990,” Robin scoffs, far too upset about the matter. “I just like the 80s. Something about the 90s rubs me the wrong way.”

“Well, get used to it Rob, cause it’s about to be the 90s for the next ten years of your life,” Eddie says, shaking his head when she lets out a loud groan.

You try to focus on the conversation that ensues after that, you really do, but you swear you can feel something pressing into your ass. You wiggle a little on Eddie’s lap, testing it, and then you’re sure you feel it. He’s definitely hard right now, and you’re definitely making it worse for him.

You chew at your lip, squishing your legs together as you squirm on top of him. He notices your restlessness, and he knows exactly why you can’t stay still.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he whispers into your ear, as quiet as possible as everyone else talks around you.

You don’t answer, knowing he’s just setting you up, and you almost yelp when he squeezes your hip with one hand.

“Just gotta wait till after the ball drops, baby,” he purrs, using your words from before against you. “Then we can ring in the new year the right way.”

You end up getting off of Eddie’s lap, because it’s the only way you can even attempt to focus on something that isn’t him. Jonathan had gone to join in on the game of Twister after Mike decided he’d had enough, so you distract yourself by going to watch.

He’s currently got both hands placed on near-opposite sides of the mat, pressing into the different colored circles. His feet are criss-crossed behind him, making him look a bit like a pretzel.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” he giggles when he sees you approach. “This might end badly.” His body wobbles a little as if on cue, but he straightens himself before a collapse.

“Don’t be a quitter,” you laugh. “You need to win this round, Jon! I’ve put all my money on this!” you tease, making him laugh more.

You try to keep your focus on the antics unfolding in front of you, but you can feel Eddie’s eyes on you. Drinking you in, searing two holes through the back of your skull. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of finally having him, going further than you ever have. You check the clock, noticing it’s only ten minutes away from midnight.

Just ten minutes. You can survive another ten minutes.

At least, you’re convinced you can until a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle and Eddie’s lips press a soft kiss to your neck. You asked for it, you suppose, teasing him in the kitchen. And he’s gonna make sure you’re very worked up, now. He sways your body back and forth, holding you tight. Your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder as you look up at him.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, winking down at you.

“If you guys don’t get off of each other, I’m literally going to throw up,” Dustin says, peeking out from behind Lucas where they’re tangled up on the Twister mat.

“Shut it, Henderson, or I’ll knock you over right now,” Eddie threatens, slowly reaching out a hand towards the teen.

“No! NO!” Dustin screeches, making Jonathan laugh so hard he finally topples.

“Okay, I give up,” he resigns. “Shit, it’s almost midnight. I need another drink,” he says, running up the stairs to quickly refill.

Everyone shuffles closer to the television, standing close together as the hands of the clock reach twelve.

“You ready? For our first whole year together?” Eddie says softly, still standing behind you.

“More than ready,” you reply, your whole body filled with an unexplainable amount of affection. You need him.

Before you know it, there’s a countdown on the TV screen from sixty seconds, and everyone watches as the number dwindles. The group counts in unison once it gets down to twenty seconds.

Ten seconds…

Eddie’s grip tightens around your middle. You’re both smiling wide as you count backwards.

Five seconds…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

A loud and joyful “Happy New Year!” resounds from the chests of everyone in the room, Steve letting out a loud whistle. Eddie spins you around, planting a kiss on your lips. Your glass in one hand, you wrap the other arm around Eddie’s neck, letting the kiss linger for as long as it can. Your skin is set ablaze where he holds your lower back, and when he finally pulls away his eyes are big and wide.

“I love you, Sunny,” he says, taking you by surprise.

It was the first time he’d said it, in the romantic context at least. And while the love had been felt all week, you’d been waiting to hear it, straight from his mouth.

“I love you, Eddie,” you smile wide, clinking your glass with his before you both take a sip of the alcohol.

You cheers with the rest of the group, everyone happy — even Robin, despite the 80s officially being over.

Eddie lets you slip away to the girls, helping Steve clean up some of the confetti that had been thrown around the room.

“Why are you so happy, sunshine?” Robin asks, noticing the smile that won’t leave your face.

“He just told me he loves me,” you say, looking down at your feet as her and Nancy both squeal.

“Finally!” Nancy squeezes your arm, her big blue eyes squinted in delight.

You feel warm, bubbly, content. This week had felt like a dream, but the best part is that it’s all been real.

Not long after midnight, the teens set up their sleeping bags on the basement floor for their sleepover. Robin and Nancy head up to the latter’s room for the night, Steve and Jonathan opt to sleep in the living room, and you and Eddie get the guest bedroom.

He’s hot on your trail as you ascend the carpeted stairs, letting yourselves into the usually empty room and shutting the door behind you. He presses you, soft against the door before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle, despite how eager he is, his mouth slowly moving against yours. Your lips part, tongue poking out just slightly to meet his. His hands keep a firm hold on your waist, thumbs smoothing over the soft fabric of your skirt, slipping beneath the hem of your sweater and sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I love you so much. God, I love you so much,” he says, mouth against your cheek.

Your nose brushes his face, lips pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” you reply, and you can’t help but smile.

“What’re you smiling for?” he cocks a brow, lips barely able to stop kissing your face to ask the question.

“I’ve just wanted to hear you say that for so long,” you say, and he pauses. Deep brown eyes search yours, all the love in the world held in his gaze.

“Well I’ll tell you as many times as you’ll hear it, babe,” he grins, his perfectly straight teeth on display, his dimples coming out. “I love you,” a kiss is pressed to your mouth. “I love you,” another on your jawline. “I love you.”

“I need you, Eddie,” you sigh as his mouth makes its way to your neck, sucking oh so softly on the delicate skin. “I’ve needed you all night,” you say, your voice leaning into a bit of a whine.

He chuckles, pressing his front against yours. You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh.

“In case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, same,” he says, letting his hands fully slip beneath your sweater before taking a pause. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too soon?”

“I promise I want to. I’ve thought about it all week,” you admit, looking down at the floor in slight embarrassment. He’s having none of that, tilting your chin back up to look at him instantly.

“You just tell me if you want to stop, at any point, ‘kay?” he asks, holding your shoulders.

“I will, Eddie.”

With that, he’s picking you up, placing you down onto the perfectly made bed. You lay back, head sinking into the pillow as he hovers above you, leaning down to kiss you like his life depends on it. Your hands hold his face, not wanting him to go away for even a second. He laughs into the kiss, pulling ever so slightly away.

“I can’t do much of anything if you don’t let me move, sweetness.”

You huff, giving him a dramatic pout as you let him go.

“Can I take this sweater off?” he asks you, smiling when you nod.

Slowly, the material is worked over your head, your arms lifting to allow him to pull it off. His eyes go wide at the sight of your pretty lace bra, holding your tits perfectly. You’re even more stunning than he ever could’ve imagined, and he hasn’t even seen all of you yet. His perfect girl.

His head immediately dips down, kissing your neck, down to your collarbone, his teeth stopping to toy with the pendant on your necklace. He kisses the dip between your breasts, his hands slowly creeping up to slip under the cups of your bra. Fingers squeeze your nipples gently, making a breathy moan leave your mouth.

“Eddie…” you arch your back, and he takes the hint, reaching around to unclasp the garment. He tosses it to the floor, worshiping your tits with his hands and his mouth.

He sucks on one nipple, then the other, tongue laving over the sensitive buds. Your hand finds its way to his hair, embedding your fingers into his soft curls and tugging. He groans when you do, a reaction you weren’t expecting, but it encourages you to continue. Eventually, when he’s decided he’s focused enough on your breasts for now, his mouth continues its descent.

Kisses are trailed down your stomach, below your bellybutton, right to the waistband of your skirt. Your breath hitches when he reaches that spot, your brows furrowing as you look down at him.

“Please keep going,” you whine, and he smirks at the hint of desperation in your voice.

“So eager, huh sweet girl?” he teases gently, fingers already hooking beneath your skirt to pull it down. He discards it just as he had your bra, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties to match the top piece.

You feel your cheeks get hot. You hadn’t intentionally worn a matching set; you didn’t go into the night expecting anything. But you fear it looks that way now.

Lucky for you, Eddie doesn’t notice; or if he does he doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything more precious, more beautiful.

“Baby, holy shit…” he breathes, sinking down to press kisses to your thighs.

You couldn’t count the number of kisses you’ve received tonight if you tried. He’s sure to hit every inch of your skin. His nose brushes against your clit, his hot breath fanning against your core. You know you’re soaking the lace that keeps you covered, and you can feel yourself throb for him. His mouth kisses atop your panties before he presses his tongue flat against them, so close to where you need him most. Separated only by thin fabric.

It’s cruel, the way he teases, his lips kissing over your clit before moving to your inner thighs. His teeth nip at the skin there, making you shiver when he starts to suck.

“Ed, oh my god,” you pant, your legs threatening to close involuntarily, your body so sensitive. He grips your thighs, pushing them apart more forcefully than he’d done anything so far.

“Gotta keep your legs spread wide for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, big eyes glancing up at you.

You nod quickly, feeling your slick start to pool in your panties. “Need your mouth on me, please,” you cry, grateful when you feel him tug your underwear down.

“Such a sweet girl, being so polite,” he says, pulling the lace around your ankles and feet until you’re completely ridden of your last article of clothing.

Eddie tugs off his jacket, followed by his shirt before he leans back down between your legs. He pokes his tongue out tentatively, licking a stripe up your folds. You gasp, hips bucking before his strong grip brings them back down. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue prodding inside of you, lapping up the honey that drips from your center. His nose bumps against your clit, giving you much needed friction. It takes everything in you to not grind against his face, trying keep some composure.

You’d imagined scenarios like this plenty of times, always knew Eddie would be able to make you feel good. But he’s truly unreal, you’ve never felt pleasure like this in your life. It’s been worth the wait to have him, you can say that for certain, your brain fuzzy as he devours you.

You’d think this is his last meal, the way he licks and sucks and moans as he does it. He flicks the tip of his tongue rapidly over your clit, and you have to remind yourself of where you are before a loud whine can escape you. You bite down on your fist, something to muffle your noises, to keep your actions discreet.

Eddie’s relentless, barely coming up for air as his tongue unravels you. When he does pause, he gives you a devious little grin, his chin shiny with your arousal. The sight makes you feral, primal in the way you desire him. And as much as you love the way he eats your cunt, you need more from him.

“Eddie, baby, please—” you pant, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Once you’ve got it, you feel nervous under his intense stare. “I want to have sex,” you say softly. “I need you inside of me. Like, right now.”

“My god, you’re something else,” he breathes, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

He moves to hover over you, his bare chest on full display. You let your hands run down his pale skin, fingers tracing the outlines of his tattoos. He shivers at your touch, and you can see the tented fabric of his jeans; his cock straining to be near you. His lips are on yours, his tongue working your mouth open for him as you reach down to palm him through the denim. The taste of yourself on his mouth has you throbbing for him, aching. He whimpers when you squeeze the outline of his cock, a sound you weren’t anticipating.

“I think you should take these off,” you suggest, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes blown out with lust. “Good idea.”

He shimmies out of his tight jeans, his boxers following suit. His cock springs free, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. He’s got the perfect girth, and he’s long. The head is pink and leaking for you already, and there’s a slight curve to his shaft. A vein protrudes from beneath the skin, practically throbbing.

“Oh my god…” you whisper, startling when you realize you said it out loud. He’s grinning like the devil, bending back down to kiss your cheek.

“Like what you see, huh, Sunny?” he asks, smug as ever.

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him away. “Fuck off,” you giggle, your tone holding no malice.

He does the exact opposite of what you said, invading your space once more to kiss all over your face. You laugh, making him join in with you.

“I do like what I see, for the record,” you tell him honestly, his smile turning shy. “I can’t believe you’re mine. I’m so lucky that, after everything, this is where we are now,” you continue, seeing the way his face completely softens at your sweet words.

“I’m the lucky one, I promise you,” he says. “Do I need to say it again? I love you so fucking much.”

It feels so right hearing him say those words. It feels like you’ve been saying them your whole lives, rather than just starting tonight.

“I love you,” you sigh, his body pressing against yours.

The realization of the line you’re about to cross hits you, but it’s welcomed. You trust Eddie to take care of you more than you’d trust anyone, and your heart pounds in your chest as you think about how much you want him. Your adoration for him is unwavering, and you so badly crave him.

“You ready for me?” he asks, patient as he rubs his thumb along your cheek. “Shit — do you want me to get a condom?”

“Yeah. I’m ready,” you confirm. “Don’t want you to use a condom. Wanna feel every inch of you,” you plead, biting your lip as he curses under his breath.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he chuckles, shaking his head of dark brown curls.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, letting him kiss you sweetly before lining himself up properly. You inhale deeply when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

He makes eye contact with you as he slips inside your wet walls, both of you moaning in unison at the feeling. For him, it’s the way you squeeze around his length, sucking him right in. For you, it’s the overwhelming stretch to accommodate him. It knocks the wind out of you, your eyes rolling back as he sinks in even deeper.

“Oh my god, baby,” Eddie groans, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

He doesn’t move once he gets fully sheathed inside, letting you adjust to his size. When you start to get squirmy, he knows you’re ready for more. He thrusts slowly, wanting to take his precious time with you. Wanting to be careful, to make love to you rather than fuck you like a one night stand. He wants to show you how much you mean to him.

The gentle rocking of his hips has your back arching, his cock reaching perfect depths inside of you. He hits the spot your fingers can’t, drawing breathy whines and moans of his name from your pretty lips.

“You have to be quiet, sweet girl,” he shushes, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to.”

“You just feel… s-so good, Eddie. This is everything I wanted,” you whisper, your hands clutching his back tight as he moves just a little bit faster.

The slick glide of his cock in and out, in and out has you seeing stars beneath him. Every inch of him feels divine, and he steals your breath each time he pushes back in. Your nails dig at the skin of his shoulder blades, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself quiet. His ragged breaths turn you on even more, as does the strained look on his face as he tries desperately not to cry out for you.

“Wanna ride me, baby?” he asks. “I’d love to see the way those pretty tits bounce with you on top,” he purrs, sugary sweetness dripping from his words. He wants to worship you, like the goddess you are.

You’re nodding eagerly, having already wanted to ask him if you could ride him. He pulls out, making you wince before he flips you over. With him sprawled out on the bed, now, you’re getting a full view of everything.

His cock is wet with your slick, nearly purple in color and clearly so needy. The dark patch of hair at the base is enticing, and you want to nuzzle your face into it. His balls hang heavy between his thighs, and you reach out instinctively to squeeze them.

“Fuck,” he hisses, making you smirk in satisfaction.

It could be a fun game, you think, learning how to touch him; discovering what makes him whine, what makes him twitch. You’re excited by the fact that you have all the time in the world to learn what gets him going. His body is yours to explore, to study and observe. It makes you hot for him all over again.

You straddle him, letting your wet folds glide along his length. Your palms are planted flat on his chest, wiggling your ass on top of him.

“Such a little tease,” he says, looking up at you in awe. “Look so pretty up there.”

You flush, gripping the base of his drooling cock before aligning it with your entrance. Sinking down onto him, a light and pretty whine escapes you. He watches, completely enamored as your expression changes with each inch of him that fills you. You’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, he’s certain of it.

This new angle allows him to go even deeper, and it feels incredible in a different way than the previous position had. Your hands grip onto his sides, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach to ground yourself as you start to rock your hips steadily.

“Eddie…” you moan, trying to keep your voice quiet. He looks blissed out where his head rests on the pillow, his lips parted as he takes shallow breaths.

He begins to do some of the work for you, his hips meeting yours as he starts to rut up into you. You gasp, his cock hitting that perfect spot once again. Your body feels tingly, electrified. Everywhere he touches you you can feel sparks, wishing his hand could be everywhere all at once. He sets a slightly faster pace than he had in missionary, bouncing you perfectly up and down. You lean down, your chest pressing to his as you hold his shoulders for stability. Burying your face into his neck, you start to kiss and suck on the skin there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good,” he grunts, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin filling the bedroom.

Desperate for more, you let your hand worm its way between your bodies, starting to rub your swollen clit. There’s barely enough room between the two of you for it to work, but you’ve got it. Eddie, of course can feel it though.

“Whatcha doin’ there, sweetness?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to hear the grin in his voice.

Your fingers continue their ministrations, pressing into your clit in circles. “Nothin’” you mumble, shy into his shoulder.

“Ah-ah, none of that, shy girl. Look at me,” he commands gently, tilting your chin up with a finger beneath it. He smiles wide when your eyes meet his. “Does that feel good?”

“So good, Eddie,” you breathe, cheeks blazing hot under his taunting stare. He’s smug, of course he is, because he has you so worked up you’re touching yourself to get to your release faster.

“Good. Keep doing that for me, baby, okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, wobbly as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Not too fast, but just enough to tip you over the edge.

The way his cock presses repeatedly into your sweet spot makes you see stars, your fingers moving as fast as they can go over your sensitive bud. Your mouth is agape, no sound coming out as he fucks into you.

“I love being inside of you, baby. Love everything about you,” he murmurs into your ear, kissing the side of your head.

The softness of his words juxtaposed with the absolute filthy way he’s fucking you makes you delirious, your body so desperate for release. You find it harder and harder to stay quiet, whimpers and squeaks leaving your mouth with each thrust he gives you. You’re so close, the tension in the pit of your stomach rising to a head.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?” Eddie encourages, sensing your quick approach, his honey tone of voice pushing you past your breaking point at last.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, washing over you in overwhelming waves. You clench hard around him, soaking his cock and the curls at the base of it. Nothing has ever felt better, your mind and body succumbing to sheer pleasure; being pulled right under. He pulls out just in time, ropes of his own cum spurting out over his stomach and chest.

You both breathe heavily, the sounds of each inhale and exhale the only thing filling the space around you. You shakily climb off of Eddie, sitting beside him on the bed. He reaches over, pulling tissues from the box on the bedside table. He cleans you up before he cleans himself, gingerly wiping between your thighs. He kisses you in the midst of it, lips pressed to yours as one hand grips your face.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Sunny,” he whispers. “My fucking dream girl.”

You giggle, unable to hide how smitten you are. “Such a sap, Eds,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and then some,” you say after pulling away, enjoying the way his cheeks flush pink. “In case I haven’t said it enough this week, I’m so fucking happy you’re home.”

“I’m never going anywhere ever again. It’s me and you forever, sweetheart,” he promises, laying back down and pulling you to join him.

Chest to chest, you tilt your chin up to look at him. Your noses are nearly touching, his arms wrapped around your middle; keeping you close and keeping you safe.

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you even more.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #i’ll be home for christmas

[nohaijiachi]

I got randomly recommended this video by YT and wrote a ginormous comment in response because I have no self control, apparently, so I thought I might as well also share my thoughts here in regard to whatever is going with THIS FUCKING SMILE

(under a cut to not clog y'alls dashboards)

(the first part of the comment here is a direct response to some of the ideas put forth in the video, it is very short so give it a quick watch for more context if you want)

Imo it's not necessary to look into overcomplicated theories that rely too much on off screen shenanigans to explain the smile, for how amusing the idea of them having swapped during the kiss is (like, the kind of stuff I won't want to be actually canon, but I'll be very happy to see explored in fan fics lol)

I think to fully explain that smile we have to take in consideration multiple factors:

This show is very purposeful in what it does and doesn't, well... show. That last shot is very long and I think the fact that Aziraphale's and Crowley's expressions in the aftermath of their disastrous break up is shown in such a manner tells us a LOT about the state of mind they might be at the start of S3, and the obstacles they'll have to face. Aziraphale doesn't immediately smile, rather he seems to look almost shell-shocked for most of the shot; it's clear (to me at least lol) that the quiet ride up the elevator is finally giving him some desperately needed time to fully digest everything that happened, because too much has happened in an extremely short amount of time, and we all know Aziraphale doesn't do well with speed lol.

But, for how much he can sometimes be a complete moron, he is smart, and all he needs are just those seconds of quiet to properly ponder on everything, on the choices made and the ramifications of said choices, and that's how we get to smile-- I'll delve into what I think Aziraphale is going through in his mind in more details later, because I also think it's necessary to focus a bit on Crowley's own expression, since the both of them are so intrinsically linked that the narrative cannot make sense without taking the both of them into account.

Crowley's expression is much more static and doesn't change the way Aziraphale's does; he looks profoundly tired in ways we've never seen him before. I don't think he's giving up on Aziraphale, and I fully believe the fact that he stood there and waited for Aziraphale to disappear in the elevator, the both of them sharing that last look, was a quiet message: He'll never give up on Aziraphale, he'll be there, waiting. But wait is all he can do for Aziraphale, now, because he can't follow where Aziraphale is going.

For how messy and full of heightened emotions the confession + kiss are, I think actually denying Aziraphale's request was a HUGE step forward for Crowley's character. He's never been able to deny Aziraphale, he always went back to him after every fight, and we all know how stupidly whipped for Aziraphale he is and how he'd empty the ocean with a spoon if Aziraphale asked him nicely-- But to actually put his foot down and say "no, I cannot do this for you" when asked to all but renounce the person he is now? Especially with how Aziraphale is all but begging him openly? That's a huge step, and something I think Crowley desperately needs to mature as a person (or, well, person-shaped being). We all love how Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger I'm sure, but we also all know that if they truly want to build a strong, healthy relationship they also both need to be able to keep their individuality and to put forth adequate boundaries about what they are willing to do for each other within reason.

Asking Crowley to come back to being an angel when he's made blatantly clear for six thousand bloody years how much he despises Heaven is not a 'within reason' request, innit?

So, yeah, for how heartbreaking the break-up was, in a sense Crowley needs it. They both do. They both need time apart to figure their own shit out, dismantle all those unhealthy habits they had to adopt in order to be with one another as safely as they possibly could while still 'employed', and then come back together with a clearer mind and a whole deal stronger than before, both as individuals and as a couple.

And I think how tired and downtrodden Crowley looks in that last shot is a precursor to this process, just as much as Aziraphale's smile is... So, let me get back to our favorite angel and what I personally think is going on with him.

I think to properly contextualize that smile we need to look at not just the happening of those infamous last fifteen minutes, but of S2 as a whole, and what Aziraphale does in it.

So, what is Aziraphale doing during S2?

At the start he seems to be more or less comfortably settled in his current life; he's as happy as ever doing what he's always done, enjoying humanity's creativity with his books and his music and his food and drinks, seemingly content to be puttering about in his bookshop (which is a stark contrast with Crowley's homelessness and his kinda adrift and depressed attitude). Of course then Jim!Gabriel throws a wrench right into that, but imo I think there was a lot more going on behind the facade of Aziraphale's well ingrained habits.

Sure, he still has all of his familiar comforts and his routine, but from the moment we see him interact with Crowley I saw a deep restlessness emerge in him: The panicked look he launches Crowley when Nina asks him about his 'naked man friend', the way he speaks with Crowley with all those 'our' he uses, the blatant way he keeps reaching over and touching Crowley-- To me that suggests that Aziraphale is clearly not as happy as he seems to be on a superficial glance. He clearly wants more with Crowley, wants to bring their relationship to the next step, but because the both of them are so deeply entrenched in their unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits and their inability to openly communicate it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale to just... You know. Take the first step, actually say something about it. So he just keeps throwing bait after bait in the water, hoping Crowley will bite and be the one taking the initiative as he's always done, finally allowing Aziraphale to accept said initiative, this time around.

Of course, we all see that Crowley doesn't take any first step, which is probably something deeply frustrating for Aziraphale at a subconscious level. That's how we get the ball; sure, on the face of it it was Aziraphale's way to make Nina and Maggie fall in love, but... Was it, really? Let's be real, for how entirely believable it is that Aziraphale makes up the lie about Nina and Maggie's love to cover for their miracle is, since we've seen him being anxious around other angels, I don't think for a second that had Aziraphale just stopped and spent three minutes thinking about it he wouldn't have found a way to convince Muriel that Nina and Maggie were, in fact, in love, especially with how 'green' Muriel is about humans.

I fully believe that Aziraphale is not properly thinking during S2, period. He's frustrated by his inability to bring his and Crowley's relationship to what he wants it to be, and that frustration and single-minded objective is utterly obfuscating his thought process. There are plenty of moments he seemed almost manic, imo, which I read as another sign about his 'impaired' (allow me the term) state of mind as of S2.

So, yes, the ball: On the face of it something to actually turn his lie to the Archangels into truth, but deeper down, perhaps almost unconsciously, I think Aziraphale sees the ball as a way to finally make him and Crowley happen. That fact that he's taking pointers about romance from human literature is blatant, and obviously he truly does believe the ball will be THE way to make love bloom.

If you stop and think about it, the ball scene is terrifying. These people are being manipulated to play the perfect background parts to make, what is in Aziraphale's mind, the height of romance atmosphere happen. The fact we get a juxtaposition with Nina's "what the F is going on, am I losing my mind???" rightful attitude underlines this. And I truly believe Aziraphale isn't exerting said manipulation with intent, but rather doing so subconsciously, because he's just so fixated on the idea of having finally the perfect set-up to have Crowley as he desires that he is influencing everything around him. After all, we all know they both have the tendency of making things happen the way they want simply by thinking that's how things are supposed to happen.

And again, he's so manic and giddy when he asks Crowley to dance, his ass is not LISTENING. He literally needed a brick thrown through a window to snap out of it.

So, in the present we have an Aziraphale who , in his own way, is trying to take the initiative, come out with plans. There is a moment that I think might have slipped under the radar of a lot of people but that's frightfully important about who Aziraphale is at this point in the story, and who he will need to become: "I have a plan," Aziraphale said to Crowley during the stare down with the demons outside of the bookshop after the ruined ball; Crowley didn't even seem to have registered that sentence at all, because his mind is already projected forward and going a mile a minute about what to do to keep both the humans and Aziraphale safe in this situation.

Crowley, who loves to swoop in and save Aziraphale, doing what he's always done to keep his angel safe, even to the detriment of their relationship with one another... And Aziraphale, who adores playing the part of the damsel in distress in turn, is actually telling Crowley that *he has a plan*.

That's not something to take lightly, methinks. That's very much just another sign that Aziraphale's individuality is struggling, trying to emerge through Aziraphale's anxiety and doubts and fears and deeply ingrained habits. Aziraphale's cognitive dissonance in regards to heaven, and his shaken faith in God are huge motivators of his actions, and in the grand scheme of things the scant few years he had away from under the oppressive thumb of heaven is nothing. It was barely any time at all in the face of the eternity of an immortal life spent under that oppression, and yet we are already seeing little glimpses of Aziraphale's rebellious side struggling to get fully free.

I think these little glimpses inform us at great lengths about the evolution Aziraphale's character will go through in S3, and greatly explains that strange smile right at the end; in my opinion that smile isn't the smile of someone who's trying to convince himself that he's ok, or realizing that Crowley loves him (he knew already, they both knew and have known for a long time, their inability to properly express those feelings was their downfall, but I don't think either of them has doubted even for a second when it comes to how much they love one another). In my opinion that smile is the smile of someone who is steeling himself for what he envisions in his future; equal parts old-sedated anxiety and yet determination to actually enact plans he's surely concocting in his brilliant little mind. That's the smile of someone who has just realized that not only they can, but that they need to do something, and you can damn well be sure they won't be sitting and twiddling their thumbs waiting to be saved, but they'll be the one saving themselves and everybody else along with 'em, this time.

Just as Crowley needs to actually spend some time define himself as himself, and not just in relation to Aziraphale, Aziraphale needs to spend some time shedding all those fears and doubts that are weighing him down, and emerge the other side someone much more self-assured and ready to do what he thinks is right without all the hesitations that have indirectly been strengthened by Crowley; in a way, by allowing Aziraphale an out with his 'temptations', Crowley had been feeding into those hesitations, and had been holding Aziraphale back from fully maturing, even if not done on purpose, obviously. Imo is very important for Aziraphale's character that he comes to realize that he doesn't need those excuses Crowley gifted him to keep doing what he thinks is right, that he actualizes his own morality properly, and enacts on it.

I don't have the faintest clue about what is going to happen in S3, but I do fully believe the above paragraph is what Aziraphale and Crowley's respective character arcs will focus on. And once they'll come back together they'll be the most power couple that has ever power coupl-ed, and the Metatron will have no clue about what is about to hit him >:)

#good omens #good omens 2 #meta #I want Aziraphale to Fuck Shit Up in S3 #you think I was joking with that comic I drew some time ago? #I am NOT! #LET AZIRAPHALE FUCK SHIT UP HE DESERVES IT

[puckbunnyera]

Second Chance | Arber Xhekaj

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

genre: angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none

notes: started this a couple of weeks ago and i've finally finished it. the part that took the longest was deciding which hockey player i wanted to use for it.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

Coming to the game was a bad idea. I knew it from the moment the word yes slipped from my lips, but when Mayah, the bubbly girl that sits next to me in my psychology lecture, asked if I would attend the game between the Montreal Canadiens and Toronto Maple Leafs with her after her friend bailed, I couldn't find it in me to turn her down.

In the day leading up to the game, I convinced myself that everything would be fine. That he wouldn't even know I was there. I'm not quite sure if I jinxed myself or if Karma was playing some cruel joke on me, but the second we made it to our seats, right there in the front row behind the Canadiens bench, I decided it was some sick and twisted combination of the two. Regret began to make itself right at home in my head the second we settled into our seats.

As the two teams make their way out onto the ice to head to their respective benches, the crowd goes wild. The arena fills with the sound of thousands of fans cheering and yelling. However, the sound of my own rapidly beating heart floods my eardrums, replacing the loud screams of the fans, as my eyes drift to him and our gazes interlock.

Arber Xhekaj, defenceman for the Montreal Canadiens of the National Hockey League, known to me as my ex-boyfriend, is staring right at me and there was nowhere I can go to hide.

Once upon a time, he was a man that meant everything to me. He was my whole world. We spent a little over two years in a relationship together, happy and in love. Things were perfect between us, until they weren't. What started as small, petty disagreements that happened here and there became full-on arguments that occurred almost every day. While I was putting in the effort to fix things, he was shutting me out. I pinned all of it on stress and the lack of time we got to spend with each other because of his work and my schooling. I tried to wait it out in hopes that things would return to normal, but eventually, I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't see the point in fighting for us if he wasn't willing to do the same. I've spent the past few months trying to move on and forget about him, and I thought I was doing pretty well. That all came crashing down the moment he noticed me. I suddenly became painfully aware that I was still hopelessly in love with him.

The insistent tapping on my arm is what finally pulls me from our impromptu staring contest. When I turn to my left, Mayah is buzzing with excitement.

"Oh my god! Arber Xhekaj is literally staring at you." She squeals. "How are you not freaking out right now? He is six feet and four inches of muscle and manliness. I would climb him like a fucking tree if given the opportunity."

The ending comment causes a pang of jealousy to flare up inside of me. I push it away as quickly as it appears though. I have no right to feel that way anymore, as we are no longer together. It's a feeling that I don't want to feel again, at least not when he is concerned.

Not able to come up with a response, I shrug my shoulders to express a feeling of indifference and turn to face forward as the announcer's voice floods the arena.

• ───────────────────────────── •

Despite the Habs loss to the Maple Leafs, my body is still filled with adrenaline and excitement as I walk out of the arena with Mayah. I had forgotten how much I loved hockey. It was how I met Arber. When things ended between us, I forgot how much I enjoyed watching the game as I tried my hardest to forget him.

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Thanks for inviting me." I respond. "I think that's the most exciting thing I've experienced in a while."

"Anytime." She smiles. "My Uber is here but I'll see you in class on Monday?"

"Yeah, see you Monday." I wave her off as she climbs into the car waiting for her by the curb.

As I wait for my own ride to arrive, I feel my phone buzz in my hand, alerting me of a text.

From Unknown Number: Hey. Can we talk?

Despite there being no name on the contact, I knew exactly who it was from. I'm about to turn my screen off to ignore it when another message comes through.

From Unknown Number: I know you're seeing this.

From Unknown Number: Please

From Unknown Number: I just want to talk.

All it takes is for that fourth and final message to come through for me to make my decision. I type out a short reply just as my Uber arrives.

• ───────────────────────────── •

A couple of hours later, here I am, standing in front of his apartment door. I'm a ball of nerves as I raise my hand to knock on the door. It only takes two knocks for the door to go swinging open and I suddenly find myself standing face-to-face with the man I swore I would never see again.

"Hey." He greets, voice still as deep and mesmerizing as I remember. "Come in."

I give him a tight-lipped smile as I step past him into the apartment I once considered a second home. He closes the door without a word and then leads me into the living room.

"Do you want some water?" He asks as I take a seat on the couch.

"No, thank you." I reply, trying to keep my voice steady in hopes that I can conceal the emotions that are beginning to rise to the surface. "What did you want to talk about? It's late and I can't stay long."

"I-" He begins before quickly cutting himself off, taking a seat on the sofa opposite of me. He sighs heavily and then tries again. "I miss you."

I freeze instantly at the words that leave his mouth. A mixture of shock and anger forms in my chest. "Arber-"

"These past few months have been hell." He continues. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I'm telling the truth."

"I can't do this." My voice wobbles as I speak, tears welling up in my eyes. I stand up, making a move towards the door. "I...I need to leave. I shouldn't have come here."

"Why?" Frustration is evident in his tone as he quickly follows my movements, grasping my hand to stop me from walking any further. "Why can't you just stay and talk to me?"

"Because if I stay, I might do something stupid." I shake my head, trying to clear the racing thoughts that have taken over. "Like..." My voice trails off, not able to finish the sentence as I attempt to get my emotions under control.

"Like what?" He interrupts, inching closer to me.

"Forgive you," I answer, looking him in the eyes for the first time since I arrived. "Because God knows you don't deserve my forgiveness. Not this easily."

"You're right. I don't deserve it," He nods. "But I want it anyway, because I'm selfish and cruel, right?" He punctuates his question with an audible scoff. Throwing my own words from our last argument at me.

"Don't say that like I'm the bad guy." I bite back. "You were the one that pushed me away like I was nothing when I was the only one there for you." My words are bitter. "I've tried so hard to make myself hate you for the way you made me feel. I tried so fucking hard. Instead, I ended up hating myself for failing so miserably. Despite my efforts, I still fucking love you. And it hurts."

My chest is tight and I'm breathing heavily as I fight back the sob that threatens to leave me. His hand grips mine tighter as he opens his mouth to speak.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am. I know I fucked up. Treating you like that and letting you walk out that door were two of the biggest mistakes I've ever made in my life." He confesses. "I want you. No, scratch that. I fucking need you. And I'll spend every day for the rest of our lives making up for what I did if that's what it takes."

"I waited for you." I whisper as the dam behind my eyes finally breaks, tears cascading down my cheeks. "For two months, I waited for something to change. For you to change."

"I know." His hands lift to caress my face, thumbs gently brushing away my tears. "And I promise I'll never make you feel like that again. I won't take your love for granted ever again."

"I thought you were falling out of love with me and I couldn't take it anymore."

"Never did I stop loving you." He shook his head, a deep frown etched on his face.

"Then what happened?"

"I was scared. You were getting busier with school and I was beginning to travel more. The longer we spent apart the more I began to question the stability of our relationship. I was afraid that, because of my busy schedule and how often I have to travel for the majority of the year, I wouldn't be able to be the type of boyfriend that you need. That you deserve. I convinced myself that it was only a matter of time before you realized that and as a result, I subconsciously began to push you away."

"You could have just talked to me." I sigh. "We could have figured it out."

"I know." He nods. "I wish I could take it back. I really do. If you would just give me a second chance, I'll do better."

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll give you another chance, but if you fuck it up, we're over for good."

"I won't." He shakes his head, hands moving to my waist to pull me into him. "You have my word."

"Good." I smile softly, laying my head on his chest.

The room falls silent as we stand in each other's embrace, taking in the moment. After a few minutes, it's Arber that makes the first move to separate us, but only enough to be able to see my face. He stares silently, lips parted as if he wants to say something.

"What?" I question, noticing his hesitation.

"Can I kiss you?" His right hand moves up to rest on my cheek, angling my head up a little more. It takes less than a second for me to respond.

"Please do."

His lips brush mine softly at first, a brief peck to test the waters. He pulls back slightly to examine my face. I'm not quite sure what he is looking for, but whatever he does or doesn't find has him leaning back in. This kiss is deeper, hungrier, more desperate. We stay like this for a while. Melting into each other. Once the lack of oxygen becomes too much, we finally part. Our foreheads remain pressed together, our eyes still closed as we try to catch out breaths.

"I really fucking missed you." He whispers, our lips brushing with every word he speaks.

"I missed you too." I smile against his lips.

"Stay."

"What?" I pull back slightly and open my eyes to look at him.

"Stay." He repeats. "Stay the night with me. It's late anyways. I don't want you going back on your own. So stay."

I take a few seconds to think it over before I respond, nodding my head. "Okay."

Smiling, he steps out of our embrace and intertwines his fingers with mine, pulling me behind him as he begins to make his way down the familiar path to his bedroom.

#arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj imagine #arber xhekaj x reader #ax72 #arber xhekaj fluff #arber xhekaj angst #arber xhekaj fic #arber xhekaj fanfiction #montreal canadiens #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

[actual-changeling]

someone should have stopped me from putting these side by side but here we are. i can't do this anymore what the fuck.

a difference from at least six thousand years—and they are completely different people, crowley is absolutely right about that. the starmaker was lost in the fall, and crowley has been trying to find himself again ever since.

the final fifteen robbed him of anything light that was still persevering, because crowley's don't bother is him giving up. he's done. he can't do this anymore and then he still waits.

he still waits.

and he will keep waiting.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #what if i took apart a wall brick by brick with my bare hands #jesus christ i cant do this anymore #every day i find new ways of inflicting pain who gave me this curse #also david tennant genuinely fucking blew my mind with the starmaker #i dont know how he does it but goddamn

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I love this blog so much, it's a lifesaver! I was wondering if you could recommend any fics along the lines of Angels hearing prayers (Specifically Aziraphale hearing Crowley's prayers) or even the alternative where demons can sense lust and Crowley is very aware of Aziraphale's less than innocent feelings toward him?

Hello! The first thing I thought of was this little ficlet on tumblr, so check that out. And here are three fics in which Aziraphale hears prayers (the first of which is post-series two!) and three fics in which Crowley can sense lust...

Just Called To Say Fuck You I Love You by Sodium_Azide (E)

Aziraphale discovers that being the Supreme Archangel of Heaven, in Heaven, means that one hears direct prayers. He makes this discovery when a lonely and heartbroken Crowley thinks about his angel during a sad wank session. Evocative imagery, yearning, and visceral appreciation and longing for him do a great deal to bring perspective to an angel who felt cornered into painful choices. Fuck this, he's going home.

So Much to be Consoled as to Console by Arokel (T)

“What are you,” Crowley drawled, “the patron saint of queer kids?” A series of lost souls over the centuries who prayed, whether they knew it or not, to the Angel Aziraphale.

The Still of Your Hand by AshCommaMan & EmAndFandems (E)

Six thousand years is a long time to pine for someone. Two thousand years is a long time to have sex with someone. Seven hundred years is a long time to be friends with someone. Eternity is a long time to love someone. It's worth the wait. Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages, as we've seen them - and some years we haven't - having lots and lots of emotionally fraught sex. Following from Rome to post-canon in 177K words.

Delectable by fuchsiaring (E)

Just as Crowley is nodding to himself, resolute in his plan, there’s a shiver in the air, like the way summer heat rolling off the pavement ripples with the swelter of it. Crowley can feel it in his chest, in his veins, thrumming in his bones. He knows this feeling, has felt it a fair few times in his centuries. Lust. -- Crowley senses lust from Aziraphale's flat above the bookshop. What's there to do besides follow the feeling?

In The Garden by kraken_creature (E)

"It started in the garden. No, not that garden. This garden came much later. Having swapped back into their own bodies, Crowley invited Aziraphale to lunch and he, with frustrating good humour about it, smiled and said that Crowley had succeeded in tempting him. And that was it. Crowley felt the familiar itch start in his hands, wanting to touch Aziraphale, wanting to hold him." Crowley spends an awkward time at the Ritz pining and lusting over Aziraphale, completely unable to articulate his feelings until he's compelled to make the first move.

I Was Never Forbidden Fruit by Sevynlira (E)

Sometimes a little miracle can get a lot out of hand. For sure if you have been holding onto it for a few thousand years. Silly angel.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #prayers #aziraphale can hear prayers #lust #crowley can sense lust #adult omens #mod d

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Type of Boyfriend

People often wonder what type of boyfriend Coriolanus Snow would be like.

He’s a coat of many colors, a jack of all trades, a fucking wild card if you will, so a definite answer can truly never be given.

However.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who insists on the stereotypical gender roles, his girlfriend must look presentable at all times—to help his image—and he is to be the sole provider of their household.

Coriolanus does however hold his girlfriend’s purse whenever he takes her shopping, the six-foot-two man proudly wearing her outrageously expensive handbag on his broad shoulder while he follows her around the store.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of man to roll his eyes at any signs of weakness. He doesn’t tolerate things like that, childish notions that he left behind years ago when the war ended.

Coriolanus does make the exception for his girlfriend though. Especially when she falls and hits the pavement hard, scraping her soft knees. He’s thorough in cleaning them, wrapping them in bandages and then placing kisses on the bandages cuts for good measures.

A woman’s body is something he knows much about but he always seems to be lacking when it comes to the somewhat taboo topic of his girlfriend’s menstrual cycle. Quite the painful topic where she’s concerned. He does everything to help make her feel better. Heating pads, chocolates, kisses, whatever she wants. He truly does hate to see her in pain to the point where he begins to grow a certain disdain to her uterus for inflicting such pain on his precious girl.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to claim he despises being forced to indulge in cute little dates. Don’t ever try to get him to do a simple face mask, even though he’ll complain when he feels that the amount she’s applied isn’t “an even coat.” And heaven forbid he be coaxed into wearing a matching set of pajamas while he watches her construct a pillow fort in their living room, mostly because he’ll just have to take over since the structural integrity is clearly at risk with these throw pillows.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to absolutely despise his girlfriend being in the company of other men. He might make the exception for her father but that’s about it. He can’t help it, can’t trust these other men and their intentions with his precious rose. She is the air he breathes and for that to be taken away from him is something that terrifies him.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who looks forward to falling asleep but only because it means his girlfriend is safely tucked away in his strong arms. He loves to watch her sleep, listen to her soft breathing and watch her nose twitch every once in a while. She’s managed to touch a deep rooted kindness in him that he thought no longer excited until he met her. To have her seek him out for comfort and safety is a gift within itself and one he could never take for granted.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to be surprisingly good at braiding hair. It’s no secret that braided hair is all the rage in Panem and he’ll be damned if his girlfriend is left out of the rising trend. He can do a mean fishtail and don’t even ask if he can dutch braid because he sure fucking can.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to be extremely petty when it comes to the simplest things like putting the dishes away or making the bed. He can’t help but keep a mental spreadsheet in his mind of what has been done by who. Even if it lands him cleaning out the litter box.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to claim that he can’t stand his girlfriend’s cat but rushes both of them to the vet when her cat gets sick. He’ll be right with the love of his life while they wait in that oh-so crowded waiting room with the parrot who keeps saying the most creative curse words he’s ever heard. He’s most definitely going to pester the veterinarian with a thousand questions concerning the cat’s health even though it turns out the spoiled thing ate a sock. And his girlfriend won’t get a chance to pay for the vet bill, because Coriolanus insists on paying for everything.

And when it’s later that evening and all is well and his girlfriend has drifted off the sleep he’ll confess to the feline that he was just a tad bit worried about her health. But he’ll deny such claims should they be brought up.

But Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who has a certain dark side that he hides away. So heaven help his girlfriend when she finally discovers it and realizes that it’s far too late to escape the jaws of this venomous snake.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

#coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #hunger games #slaymitchabernathy #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus smut #ao3 fanfic #wattpad #soarynn snow #coriolanus x soarynn #coryo snow #staywithmealways #coriolanus x original character #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus drabble #coriolanus oneshot #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fic #oneshot

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Five Christmases

Prompt Day 25: Christmas | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Christmas Day, Full Schedule, Family & Friends, Mostly Fluff, A Little Obligation, Steve POV

Christmas, 1999

8:06 AM

Steve is towel drying his hair, when Eddie pops into the doorway and taps his watch. 

"The day has just started and we're already six minutes behind, Harrington. C'mon!" 

Steve nods, "We'll be fine."

"Steve! Five Christmases! You committed us to five! That's a tight fucking schedule," Eddie shouts, and Steve just laughs. Usually he's the uptight one.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Steve says, just poking at him further. Just for fun, as a Christmas treat.

"This was your idea, asshole," Eddie says, slamming the bathroom door behind him, "I'm leaving in nine minutes, with or without you!"

"Okay, Bono!" Steve screams, not even sure if Eddie heard him.

9:12 AM

"Sorry we're late!" Eddie yells, pushing the front door open, letting themselves inside. "It's Steve's fault!"

Wayne gets up when he hears the door open, and Steve hugs Wayne. Eddie needs to chill the fuck out. Nobody is going to care if they are a few minutes late. Well, his parents will care. But nobody else will, especially not Wayne, that's for damn sure. 

Wayne's house smells wonderful, like maple syrup, coffee and bacon. This was a perfect first stop of the day, nobody does breakfast better than Wayne. 

They help him carry it all to the small formica kitchen table, sliding into the comfortable vinyl chairs, and it tastes as good as it smells. 

This is Christmas. 

The one thing they've done every year they've been together. Breakfast with Wayne. It's the only true Christmas tradition they have, and Steve wouldn't trade it for the world.

11:58 AM

Steve looks at his watch. They definitely aren't late as they stand on the steps, having rung the bell at the Harrington residence. 

Steve debates ringing it a second time, but just waits. Surely they heard it.

And it takes forever, because it's cold as shit out here, but his mother finally answers the door.

"Hi, mom. Merry Christmas," Steve says, and she nods her head at them, opening the door wider.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Harrington," Eddie says, politely. 

The long, formal dining room table is set up, and since it's just for the four of them, it's a little ridiculous. But he slides into his chair, a thousand miles away from everyone else at the table. His parents at either end, and Eddie across from him, hands folded in his lap.

He's nervous, Steve can tell. It never gets more comfortable, this awkward tip-toeing they all do around each other.

His parents know about Eddie, but would rather pretend otherwise, Steve supposes.

So, they eat their awkward meal, in uncomfortable stretches of silence.

In the car, Steve reaches over and takes Eddie's hand into his own, bringing it up to his lips.

"Thank you," Steve says, and Eddie nods. "The next one will be more fun," Steve promises and Eddie grins, wide and excited.

2:11 PM

They are barely up the walkway when the front door swings open, banging against the hallway wall.

"Shoes!" Steve hears being hollered from the house, but it's too late. Eddie's got an armful of little girl, despite her mother's warning.

"Uncle Eddie, Santa came!" she yells and Eddie smiles, brushing the snow off of her bare feet. 

Gareth appears in the doorway, to usher them inside, as his daughter regales them with tales of all her new toys that Santa brought this morning.

Eddie puts her down once they're inside, and rattles the sack he has thrown over his shoulder, full of more presents. 

Gareth shakes his head, but hugs Eddie once Eddie's handed over the sack, and she's ran into the living room, to open them up.

"You didn't have to do that," Gareth says, and Steve hears Eddie laugh. Of course they did.

"Sure we did, that's our girl, too, you know. And it's our right, as her super fun uncles, to spoil her rotten," Eddie states.

Gareth laughs, and settles onto the armrest of the chair Eddie has plopped down into, to watch her tear open the wrapping paper with delight.

5:33 PM

"Merry Christmas, dickhead," Steve says, and hugs Dustin.

"Back atcha," Dustin answers, guiding them into the living room. There's a nice fire going, and it's cozy. 

Steve's glad Henderson finally moved closer to home, again. It's been too long. 

Dustin pours them both a drink, and they sit and just talk. It's quiet, calm, and comfortable. All things Steve never would have assigned to Dustin Henderson, even ten years ago. But he's grown up, right before their very eyes. 

Their kid.

He'll always be their kid.

7:45 PM

Robin's running around her kitchen, and it smells slightly of smoke, so as soon as they're in the door, they both step in to help her, so she doesn't actually burn the place down. She wanted to do dinner by herself this year, and they'd all agreed, but she's clearly in over her head.

"I just spilled on the burner! It's fine! Nothing's on fire!" she yells, and Steve picks up the smoke detector from the counter, that's clearly been yanked off the wall.

"I can confirm!" Robin's girlfriend yells from the other room.

And honestly? Steve thinks they're both right, taking a good look around the kitchen. It all looks really good. A huge mess, for sure, but damn good. 

"It looks great, Robbie. You're killing it," Steve says, hugging her from behind, and she shrugs him off, still moving at warp speed around the kitchen. 

When they head towards the table, Steve kisses Robin on the top of the head before taking his seat, "Thanks for going to all this trouble."

Robin just rolls her eyes.

11:54 PM

"Merry Christmas," Steve says, as Eddie slides into bed, flopping against his pillow, groaning at the simple pleasure of the act.

"I have one more present for you," Steve says, sliding his hand over Eddie's bare stomach, and that gets Eddie's attention. 

"I'm listening…"

Steve laughs, and leans over, kissing him. 

Notes: The idea came from the Gilmore Girls episode where they have to go to four Thanksgivings in one day. Then I was googling the spelling of Christmases (to make sure, ha) and realized there is a movie called Four Christmases. So, that too, I guess, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #christmas #christmas fic #future fic #christmas day #established relationship #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth (stranger things) #robin buckley #wayne munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington's parents #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles