#and with the stuffing? immaculate

[fuck-kirk]

My whole life I’ve loved thanksgiving box stuffing. It’s one of my top five favorite foods..I look forward to thanksgiving every year purely for stuffing. Recently I’ve had an awakening and like. Realized I can just make stuffing whenever I want. I can buy a box of stuffing and make it in like 6 minutes. ..eggs are also one of my fav foods, so for dinner tonight I said fuck it and made eggs, avacado toast, and stuffing and lemme tell you it FUCKED

Like hell yeah I’m an adult! I have my own money and free will and I can just combine all my fav foods together for dinner regardless of what anyone else would think about it . Eggs and avacado toast a breakfast food ? FUCK it! Stuffing usually only for holidays or big family gathering meals? FUCK it! Hell yeah I’m enlightened

[garbagegalpals]

#NEED to learn to render ASAP!

[screampied]

Hitting it raw for the first time with JJK men?

‘ DON’T BE SHY, HIT IT RAW ! ★

starring ꒱ gojo, sukuna, toji, choso, nanami !?

@ WARNINGS : fem! reader, unprotected, brēeding kink, size kink, praise, manhandling, mating press, dōggystyle, prone bone, hair pulling, degradation, spit, biting, pússy drunk men, 18+

CHOSO ✰ KAMO.

“r…raw?” he inhales, staring at you with a cute quivering lip. you looked so pretty underneath him, sprawled all out and gazing right back into his eyes. you’d just got done playing with yourself in front of him, showing him just how easy it was to make you wet.

truthfully, choso’s had little to no experience— he gulps, wrapping a broad hand around his length before moving it towards your slick entrance. “like without the little rubber thing?”

you giggle, watching as his sculpted abs tense all up. he feels so hot, burning up. the entirety of his body shudders with a scorching breeze that runs against his skin.

“yes, baby. ‘s okay. i want you to,” and oh your voice, he could have came from just the sound of your sweet voice alone. doughy soft tips of his fingers brush against the skin that sticks against his dick like glue, a few simple strokes and he whines. “get a little closer, you remember missionary, right?”

“yeah,” he intakes a hollowing breath. by now, he’s hovering on top of you with his leaky tip fluttering against your sloppy slit. you merely slip off a moan yourself, syrupy liquid coating against his cockhead with such ease. “the position where i hold your hand ‘n stare into your eyes?” as you nod, he moans once he feels the way your dripping cunt starts to gradually devour the head of his dick in such a indecent way. “o-ohhh, okay.”

biting his lip, he starts to slowly sink his way in.

choso’s breath hitches from being engulfed with your sweet warmth. “y-you’re so warm inside,” he stammers, throwing his head back in utmost pleasure. choso’s so cute—a chastened grin purses against his lips, just a few solid inches in and he was already pussydrunk. “princess, ‘m not gonna last,” he furrows his brows, grabbing one of your hands, squeezing it tightly. “not gonna last when you’re s-so wet, i- i feel hot, oh.”

“don’t say that,” you tease, rubbing your ankle against his back. any kinds of touch from you made his heart race.

choso was firmly still—he’s been intimate with you plenty of times but never raw. this was an entire new feeling, he could just feel the lewd texture of your gummy walls grip around him securely. “you’re doing great, baby. just fuck me, like you always do.”

“i can fuck you, i … i can fuck you,” he’s chanting to himself cutely, trembling on each individual word.

a barrier, as he’s going inside raw— it feels like a barrier that’s shoved directly between your pussy and his cock. as choso’s hooded eyes start to get heavy, it doesn’t take long for him to start up a vicious pace.

languidly,

he feels the intensity of it all. the searing friction being created against both mounds. choso’s thrusts became more rapid by the second and your mouth pries open ever so slightly..

“oh m-my,” he hiccups, his grip between your fingers getting tighter. he loves holding your hand, especially whenever you were underneath him. choso’s voice was so adorable— every few seconds it croaks or cracks, it feels so tactile. the touch, the way your cunt takes every inch of him, he’s so big that the stretch was simply immaculate. choso presses his body against your chest, he’s leaning before he gently sinks his canines into your neck. “gonna c-cum already, hold me baby,” and then he swallows, a short gasp following out of his glossed-spit lips. “i… i mean, can i cum inside? never stuffed you full before.”

“go ‘head, baby,” you whisper, and he cutely whines once you run a soft finger down his brief undercut. whenever you called him baby, he could feel himself melting right into you—you feel choso move his glossed lips towards you, pulling you into a deep, sensual kiss. it was passionate, warm breaths violently crashing into each other at such a quick pace that he feels the strain rise up in his lungs.

your pretty cunt’s holding him hostage— choso’s slowly thrusting into you before right when he’s about to cum, he’s whimpering into your mouth. “it’s okay, ‘cho. it’s okay, you can do it,” and you cup his face, watching his darkened eyebrows furrow. his face softens at your sweet reassurance before he feels the incoming wave brew up within him. “you wanna be my messy boy, huh?”

he shamelessly nods. “so b-bad,” and his words were trembling upon each syllable. once he shoots into you, dumping you with a sweltering hot load of cum, his mind goes blank. you’ve never felt more stuffed—so packed up. his dick now flaccid—choso whines into your neck. the mucilaginous strings of cum that spurt into you was so filthy. squelches that reverberated against your cunt, just the quiet sound of it makes his mouth salivate.

he wants more, he wants you.

“feels so good,” he pants, lying on top of your chest— he grows quiet, hearing the sloshes of your cunt get stuffed with more parching ropes and ropes of cum. it feels tenderly, it shoots deep into your womb and your arms throw around his shoulders. choso’s sweating profusely, he feels like each pant that leaves his lips was gonna be his last. you smile, kissing the bridge of his nose where he scar lays before he slowly pulls out. gluey strings of cum depart from your hole and he can’t help but run a thumb against it. “i— oh my god,” he sniffles, and his voice was a bit more pitched. “are— are you okay? did i do okay?”

you kiss the side of his mouth and he moans, staring as your tummy was all swollen after being filled to it’s very peak. “i’m okay, you did amazing baby,” and he snuggles up against you. his head hitting against your chest, his personal favorite pillow. with a relaxing sigh, you strum your fingers through his ponytails before speaking in a soft voice, giving him a head pat. “always such a good boy for me, choso.”

“thank you,” he snivels, and you don’t expect for him to get back up again. his eyes—they’re more feral now, beads of sweat running down his brow before he pouts. “not done though. can- can we fuck raw again? pretty please, ‘m not done being messy for you.”

NANAMI ✰ KENTO.

“take it off, ‘kennnn,” you mewl out a desperate whine, pawing clammy hands at your husband’s halfway exposed chest.

he had barely just made it back from work, needing someway to rewind from his usual respective nine-to-five and you offered. an offer that was located nowhere other than between your legs, though he never complained. your cunt was easily the best way to unwind from a long day. with his work clothes still on, pants halfway down, drooping toward his knees, he hums.

you had him amused, his boxers were halfway down—cock sprung out and he swallows, stroking the rubbery condom that’s sheathing over his erect length. “wanna feel you from the inside, please.”

he gruffly chuckles, body jolting briefly in response he laughs. whilst he had you promptly sat on his lap, you were so close up to him— his heat purely radiates against yours, making the feelings of his touch ten times more sensitive. “you’re in a playful mood today, huh. no condom, my love? and why is it that you want to ‘feel me from the inside’, hmm?”

with exasperated breaths, you’re just so close to him stuffing you full. your soaking entrance rubs against his tip—so leaky, your mouth merely starts to water at just envisioning him flooding your pussy up with so much of his ropy cum. “i jus’ wan’ it,” you whine, and he titters once you take measures into your own hands—tugging the loosely fit rubber before his cock was finally out in the open. “wanna be your cum dump, kento.”

“cum … dump?” he repeats, scratching the basal part of his pointed chin. nanami smirks, a big hand giving your ass a gentle yet firm squeeze. he’s so tender, caressing the sides of your rear before giving it a brief spank. nanami was always sweet, you liked whenever he’d take a little more control at times. “that really what you want? to be my ah, cum dump?”

you tell him yes and that’s all he really needs to hear from you.

you’re scrupulously rocking your hips against nanami, sucking your teeth at the hot feeling pooling inside of you. the grip, oh the grip—you feel dizzy, without the condom felt like a whole new world. nanami groans, leaning back against the headboard whilst he’s letting you ride, take the wheel on his lap if you will. “mhm. loosen up for me, love,” he’d grunt, blond strands of his running down the sides of his face. it’s cute, the way his usual perfect hair was now all ruffled and feral. “fuck me jus’ like that, ride me good, okay?”

moan after moan drags past your lips, flimsy arms throw around his stiff shoulders before the stretch had you gasp. the stretch—so elastic.

his cock vigorously pummels in and out with such girth making your cunt profusely spasm.

facing directly in front of him, you probably looked a mess—abashed facial expressions tugging against your features, mouth dangled all open, you were a sight. yet, you didn’t care—you cared about being filled to the brim. you craved it like you crave a succulent pastry. as your hips rotate and rock in collision, he’s got both hands on your waist, slamming you down further and further. you’re whining, feeling the tip of his dick reach deep—each time it delves into you, it smothers your g-spot with various french-tip kisses. your eyes roll back, feeling his honey-dew eyes take in your pretty jerking hips every and single second. “oh, look at that face right when she’s gettin’ ready to make a mess,” and his voice was a deep whisper, he brings you towards his neck, chuckling once you sniff him. “feel it too, darlin’? wanna be my good little wife ‘n finish with me, hm?”

“y—yes, please ‘ken, hngh,” you whine, feeling the sharp edges of your teeth shatter against each other. his thick cock punctures something deep within your walls, causing you to spasm all over him. “wanna cum with you, please pleaseee.”

he sneaks a kiss against your lips, it’s wet and it’s got you hungry for more. nanami never fails to coat you with a few of his tenderized kisses. it his thing, soft padded lips that press against your skin always had you weak in the knees. speaking of knees, your own knees start to buckle as you’re rotating your hips against his. “messy girl, go ‘head then. i wanna see just how messy my pretty baby can get.”

nanami’s voice was so soothing, all up against your ear. alluring pheromones surge all through you as you’re taking every inch of his cock. every few seconds your stomach seizes, a repetitive motion that has your toes curling up in utter temptation. “cum, ‘m gonna cum ‘ken, cumming, nghh.” the positioning couldn’t have been more perfect. rough hands of his squash against your derrière before your breath literally gets snatched away. with your jaw dropping, you tense up, convulsing with his twitching dick inside of you. compressing against his length, you clench down on your maw before whining out a sweetened sob. “inside, shoot inside ‘ken. don’t miss.”

“i’ll never miss if it’s with you, sweetheart,” he whispers— the gravel in his voice turning a bit shaky.

fat full balls of potential seed thwack and thwack against your skin, with the ricochet of skin slapping, it rings throughout your ears—having your mind going stupid.

with a grunt, he clings onto your swiveling torso tightly, a hefty arm wrapping around you. so close, he’s so deep inside that the tip of his cockhead reaches the most secretive depths stored inside your cunt. “mhm. ‘s gonna get a little messy, hold onto me, my sweet.”

GOJO ✰ SATORU.

gojo’s got a sheepish simper, having you bent over for him in such a way has his heart pounding. he heard the individual beats pulse through his ears before he inhales. “raw.. raw as in you want the real thing? heh, can ya even handle me raw?”

“shut up,” you whine, your ass wriggling in response against his length—he was just as aroused as you, he gives your ass a long stare before huffing out a breath. “jus’ fuck me, ‘toru.”

“well excuseee me,” he replies back, aligning himself against your saturated folds. so pretty, the way your pussy was even warmer from the inside, so moist. he feels his breath start to shake before he thrashes his tip against your outer entrance. “ooh, s-so much tighter than i thought.” and he grows quiet once your pussy starts to accept him inside. slowly, you’re swallowing every inch that he provides—gojo moans, the tight clamp that your gummy walls give him merely makes him fold. the sensation was almost too much to bare. pap pap pap, the sounds your cunt make in retaliation only made him more feral.

gojo’s panting, your cunt’s got him in a tight grasping chokehold that he knows he can’t get out of— it’s simply spontaneous.

“fuck, you’re so h-hot,” he sighs, you let off a soft mewl, feeling him bring a palm towards your right ass cheek to spank it, gripping it toughly and you bite your lip. even though you couldn’t directly see his expression—you just imagined gojo would be as pretty as he’s always been. messy, ruffled hair, panting, muscles tightening and flexing. even that thing he does whenever he’s bottoming out inside of you. where his eyebrows furrow all up and his face becomes utterly flustered.

so cute.

after a few sloppy hits against your heat, it doesn’t take much to make him into a pure, whiney mess. he’s just babbling whilst you’re on all fours for him, so tense—his muscles ache for more of you. gojo starts to feel the tip of his tongue salivate with little droplets of his own syrupy saliva. oh, it was just the way your pussy effortlessly wraps around him like a vice. he grunts in a hoarse tone, witnessing how your hips just ferociously grind and hit back against him so good to where his head’s spinning.

as he accelerates his hips, gojo’s so needy—he can’t help but grab your waist with calloused fingers, driving his fat cock into you at a more swift speed. he’s so big, so fucking big. filling you full of girthy inches each time, you’re moaning repeatedly, feeling how his hips start to stutter and his thighs ache already. he’s close.

the more he pants, the more raspy it becomes. gojo’s thumbs were practically piercing into both sides of your hips—indenting in them as he’s allowing the cockhead of his shaft to freely rummage all throughout your gripping walls. the feeling of being inside of you, raw, he found himself drooling. something about the way you clamp down against his base each time, feeling the slimy strings of pre-cum stick against your ass and his base each time you smack back onto him.

“f-fuuuck, ‘toru. right there, hngh. right there, fuck fuck.” you hiccup, and he’s feeling his breath start to hitch in due time. with his hands still grabbing onto your waist as he’s pounding you ruthlessly from behind, you moan. “ughhh, ‘toru, ‘m gonna cum. fuck don’t stop, please.” and as you speak to him in that sweet tone, he only gets harder. cerulean blue eyes of his stare down your back— your breathtaking spine, the way it had a few drops of excess sweat gliding down. he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why but that simple detail as he was drilling such amounts of dick into you—he found it adorable. “touch me more.” you whine, a sudden pitch in your tone. “slow, f-fuck me slower baby.”

“i- i amm,” he whimpers, his voice growing shorter and shorter. it was just something about fucking you from behind. it gave him a perfect excuse to stare at your ass, kiss it with the palm of his hand with rude mean spanks, getting hard from the recoil. speaking of hard though, gojo was quite hard, painfully so—you feel his hips snap into you at such a pace that it’s like he’s not human. each thrust, each deeper angle he creates with his hips has you going stupid. with how loud he’s whimpering—you can’t tell who’s louder, him or you. “fuck, ‘m really gonna cum inside, angel. oh fuck, ‘s the way you squeeze on me s-so good, don’t stop fuckin’ me back, please.”

he turns into a babbling mess, the stretch of his cock buries so deep into you—constricting freely around his length, he then lightly shoves your head against the pillow. “s-sorry, angel,” he swallows, tracing his fingertips against the edges of your ass. “ah, ‘m gonna have to give you all of me. ‘s gonna spill out but you’ll be a good girl ‘n keep it in for me, yeah?”

“yes, yes yess,” you whimper, and he then grabs onto your hair for leverage—he’s pumping you full of thick inches of dick, you stare at yourself in the reflection of a mirror and gojo still looks pretty. his pace was brutal, you could barely keep up and your legs felt like they were hanging onto the final hinges. “inside, ‘toru. don’t spill a d-drop.”

“take it then, t-take it for me,” he moans, and each time he hits against your ass with his own hips, you feel the swollenness of his balls brush up against your pussy. total breeder balls, you whine before it takes him a moment to finally cascade such stripes of cum right into your womb. “listen to that, f-fuck, sloppy pussy’s jus’ my favorite,” he pants, heaving out a single strained breath. gojo’s hips precipitously stop, and he’s just feeling himself spew such ropes—so warm, it’s sticky too. you feel the texture spurt into your cunt, giving you more than enough. with a hand still gripping onto your hair, he then brings a hand to gently wrap around your throat. “mhm, baby. we should— we should start thinkin’ of baby names by this point heh.”

you moan, feeling him slowly pull out— once he does, leftovers of his cum that plugged you full starts to seep out of your hole. he licks his lips, inserting a thumb inside before spreading your folds open up. “don’t stop, ‘toru. want more,” you sigh, arching your back up again for him. “give me twins.”

“fuck i’ll give you triplets,” he grunts, re-aligning his throbbing tip—he inhales deeply, still feeling sensitive before it swipes against your messy painted up entrance. as he’s close up to your ass, he runs a hand down your spine before getting up close to your ear. in a low, husky whisper, he replies. “keep up with me, angel. ‘m gonna be showin’ this pussy the new me all n-night.”

SUKUNA ✰ RYŌMEN.

“careful now, woman,” sukuna hisses, and he’s got you in a secure mating press—you moan, feeling his tip skim against your sopping pussy. his tone was a mere warning, red-shot eyes of a curse—in which he was, stares right into you as he holds back. “askin’ me to do somethin’ like that ‘s gonna end up with ya pregnant.”

with a pout, you sling your arms around him, smelling his intoxicating scent roam through your flared up nostrils. “don’t care,” you chastise, and he’s such a tease. grabbing ahold of his fat length, brushing his angry leaning cockhead against your entrance. he snickers against your neck, hot breath fanning against your collarbone. “finish in me, ‘kuna. wanna feel it s’bad,” and you didn’t even care how pathetic you sounded. desperate was the perfect word for you. it was always a dream to have the king of curses feed your sweet forlorn cunt with such delicious ropes of cum. you’ve only ever tasted his flavor, never exactly feeling it shoot inside,

such amounts of his sticky, stringy ropes pour into your womb—you craved it, you could care less of the consequences that would follow. as a single throb from the inside of your clit pulses you back to reality, you feel sukuna’s fangs teasingly bite into your neck. “m-mmph,” he suppresses his moans, an almost whimper being dragged out of his throat. your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, feeling his cock start to introduce its way into your welcoming, greedy walls. your moan rings through his ears, he’s so thick that you feel the head of his cock mold your cunt open, it’s so warm. so tight, a twinge within the undersides of your thighs sting for a moment before you start to succumb into the inevitable pleasure.

“ah ah, don’t shy away now,” he rasps—voice sounding almost hoarse like. once he makes haste with his hips, slam after slam against you, he grips your chin. with hollow cheeks scrunched all up, he sneaks a wet kiss onto your mouth, watching you moan for more affection—more of his sweetly sacred taste. “want me to go in raw?you better stare into my fuckin’ eyes while i claim this meaningless cunt,” and he’s so mean, his entire delivery has you pulsating. the curse’s eyes stare down your body before he starts to present you with jagged, thorough thrusts. with a hand still attached to you chin, he lowly cackles a “heheh,” leaning in to kiss you again. “needy baby. can’t go a second without a kiss,” and in the meanwhile, he’s viciously pounding into your wretched insides. an entire mess, it doesn’t take sukuna long for him to bottom out completely inside of you. “stick out that tongue.”

you’re too dumb to even comprehend anything. just the rhythm of his cock has you in shambles. it’s too good, you comply quickly before lolling out your pretty pink tongue. “such an obedient woman, look at that sloppy tongue, desperate for more of my taste,” he slyly says, and that’s when he leans forward to suck near the pointed tip of your tongue. you’re caught by surprise, expecting him to do something more erotic and filthy such as spitting on your tongue but he just … sucks on it. “always taste sweet for me.”

each time he smacks into you at full force, your ears pop. slow yet steady, this time he nibbles on your tongue—the inner edges of his fangs tickle before he wraps a hand around your throat. “fuck. gonna milk me,” and then he lightly taps against your cheek with his other hand. “is the dumb baby still with me? look at me, girl,” and with hooded eyes, you meet the curse’s gazed his hips were sharp, unlike anything you’ve ever felt. it’s tantalizingly slow, each time he pulls out he purposely shoves himself back in—causing your mewls to only pitch louder. “that’s it. scream. let everyone ‘n this palace know how much of a nasty girl you are for me. louder.”

your whines grow louder, with your ankles rubbing against his back you start to feel his pace come to a slow halt. “k-kuna,” you whimper, his tip smooching against your most sweetest spots again, and again, and again. he feels how warm you are from the inside. the grip was so lewd, his jaw tightens as his weight slams into you countless times until you’re in a looping trance. “inside, finish inside pleasepleaseplease.”

“kiss me first,” he snarls, and almost immediately do you pull him into a sloppy kiss. with breaths heaving, tongue’s tangling, you whine into his mouth as he’s stuffing your cunt full of staggering lengthy inches. he’s so deep that your stomach briefly caves in, the sharp tips of his fingernails tickle against your skin before his thrusts grow deeper. moaning into his mouth, your legs still wrap around his waist before within three more solid pumps, he cums.

sukuna groans into your mouth, hot breath pouring into your mouth as he swipes a tongue against your bottom lip—biting it afterwards. it shoots out so quick, lightening speed. he’s shaking, and since he’s a curse—it’s so much more that he gives you. a plethora of satiny ropes, it trickles into your womb to where it starts leaking out of your sweet hole once he pulls his cock out. “how nasty,” he phews, beefy muscles flexing as his arms stood near the sides of you. despite him heaving in and out, he doesn’t even look remotely tired—instead, sukuna gives you another kiss before you watch as he starts to flip you over. “not done. ‘m gonna have to clean it out of you with my tongue,” he growls, making you chest hit against the plump cushioney pillows. “bend over, princess. let me get a better taste from this angle.”

TOJI ✰ FUSHIGURO.

“yeah yeah, i got you,” he grumbles, cutting off your sentence before arching you all the way over. you gasp at how blunt he is, giving your ass a spank before dragging a fat thumb down your pre soaked cunt. “didn’t plan on wearin’ that shit anyway. they never fuckin’ fit, doll. thanks for the concern though, heh. i’ll be extra careful, promise.”

with toji’s size, condoms would break easily.

if they didn’t break, they were on the very verges of shattering into a zillion pieces. with two riotous hands, he spreads your ass before smacking his fat tip between your folds. “f-fuuuck me already,” you whine out, feeling the naturally provocative arch in your back only stretch further. even his tip, his angry pinkish tip that never fails to split the insides of your pussy open with just a few thrusts, he’s such a tease. chewing on your lip as if it was a substitute for gum, you moan once he leans his face down to slowly spit near your cracking entrance between the crevices of your rear. you shudder, feeling the coldness of his saliva run down your slick, smearing calloused fingertips beneath your dampening folds. “y-you’re so nasty, toji.”

“girl i’ve been called worst but okay,” he gruffs, swiping a tongue against the scar near his lips. despite how you weren’t even facing him, you could just tell he gave you the most sassiest eye roll imaginable. as you’re on all fours, he makes the right side of your cheek hit against the cushioned comforter. “ya sure you wan’ me ‘ta go in raw? ‘m all for it but this ain’t y’er pussy talkin’ instead of that little brain of yours, is it?”

you nod, desperate for him to resume—and he does, but once toji fucks, he fucks mean.

toji fucks like he hates you—of course he doesn’t, but with hips of his, he wasn’t fooling anyone.

just seconds of taking backshots from him and you’re already drooling, the back in your arch couldn’t have been any more slutty. “fuck,” he groans, feeling his dick stretch—extending throughout the gummy areas of your pussy. he reached everywhere, you’re clinging onto the bed before you cutely make an attempt to crawl forward. “oh. where d’ya think y’er goin’?” he groans, giving your ass a spank. you gasp, feeling him drill his thick cock into you so precisely as if his occupation was a construction worker. the only thing he was hammering was your cunt though. with a hand snaking its way into your hair, he gives it a firm tug to make your ass plop back against him. “nah get the fuck back here. no runnin’ today baby. still got a lot more ‘ta give.”

he’s so stuffed into you that you feel your cunt gape around him, your jaw idly dangles open as he’s got your hair in a tight grip. “f-fuuuck, ‘s so big. stretchin’ me, toji, hngh,” and your sweet moans were melodic—simply music to his ears. you felt the pulse from his cock that was buried into you—fat swollen balls of his contour to kiss up against your bare ass, the sounds so loud it sounds like smacks. “a-ah ah ah,” you’d repeat, barely able to keep up with his relentless pace. “gonna cum, ‘toj. gonna c-cum, oh my goddd.”

“oh my goddd, i’m gonna cum too,” he mimics your whine—and by now, his entire body is pushed up against your ass. with a sly piston of his hips, he’s got you right where he wants you. toji chuckles against your ear, choking you with just a tiny amount of pressure before he hums. “you like bein’ fucked raw, don’t’cha? you feel me deep ‘n y’er womb, gorgeous?”

you nod again, your cunt just continues to mend and form around his length sloppily. heavy breaths tear out of your filled up lungs before he bends you way back against the bed. “y-yes, please. cum in me toji, want you to shoot in me, f-fuck please.”

he’s got a firm grip on your hair, yanking it back as he’s jackhammering his thick cock — you feel the jagged edges around him piercing through your insides and he’s just so fucking big.

you whine, sloshes of your own honeyed slick coating toji so well from the very base down. a pretty white ring, “yeah, c’mon. cum with me babygirl, cum on this dick,” and he growls darkly, the incoming build up coursing through his veins. a raw hoarse emits from the back of your throat before you’re cumming. it takes so much out of you, his tip ruthlessly mashing against your g-spot so good. your eyes are ogling, drool seeping from the corners of your lips before he ends up finishing too. never inside, but now—he’s shot a thick load into you raw. it was simply appetizing, toji slows his jerking hips down and he grows quiet. he’s pouring into your cunt with strings of hot balmy cum. with how quickly it is to fill you up, you feel how it just stuffs you to the brim.

that same white translucent ring coats around his fat base and a rough hand of his grips onto your waist. “take it all, fuck,” and you continue to clamp around his dick. it’s so much that it starts to ooze out of your folds, velvety pretty ropes of cum paint the crevices of your thighs—running down your folds and it’s got you so dizzy. his balls that plugged you full remain inside of your sopping cunt, slowing his thrusts down completely before momentarily taking his dick out. “got myself a nasty little bitch, milkin’ me like that,” he gruffs out, smearing a thumb down your now swollen clit. you’re panting, feeling a throbbing sensation pool into your abdomen before he flips you over. “where’s my thank you, doll?”

“t-thank you, toji,” you mewl out, feeling him position himself between your legs now—you’re laid on your back, gasping for air before he cups your chin. with dark coy eyes, he rubs a thumb against your lip. “thank you for finishing in me.”

“y’er welcome, sugar,” he groans, realigning himself against your saturated folds—so soaked, there were still many remnants of hot stringy semen that stuck against your entrance. he pauses, feeling your legs lock around his slim waist before he pauses. with a husky voice, toji plants a single kiss against your lips. “heh. ya are on the pill though, right?”

“…….”

[draftbeerbibi]

FOR ME, IT WILL ALWAYS BE YOU - Sylus x Non MC! ( Part 4 )

Summery: you find yourself in lads universe after a particularly close interaction with truck kun. How does life go from here after arriving in the N109 zone leaders backyard when MC hasn’t arrived yet?

Disclaimer, Sylus might be OOC, since i’m not very good at writing so bear with me. This will be multiple parts!

TW: Angst, talk of suicidal ideation, talk of ed(?)

a/n at the end!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Every gaze was tantalizing.

Every word was like honey on your tongue.

Truly, you knew better then to entertain these delusions, but something in the back of your mind gnaws at you. What if your not delusional. What if MC just never shows up? After all, Sylus hasn't mentioned her once in the whole 4,5 months you were now here.

You guys hadn't dared to step further. You were already in the danger zone, and neither had felt particularly inclined to change that. However, once again, things were different.

His eyes would drop just a tad bit further down then they usually would. His tone was different, softer around the edges, but only when it was just the two of you. The banter never stopped ofcourse, but even that had evolved into something cataclysmic.

You were sure you were going to perish. You weren't meant for such deep, raw tension. It felt like you were going to cut yourself on it. You wanted to.

The two of you were in a dance, constantly holding eachother close enough to feel, smell, see, hear. But never close enough to truly taste.

It felt like you were starving yourself, taking just enough to survive. You were becoming bolder though.

Every day you tipped just a tad bit closer to him, and to your surprise, he reciprocated the notion. It felt like you were dancing around death, teetering on the edge off a cliff, but if you were with him. You wouldn't even care if you fell anymore. Your carefully constructed rules started crumbling piece by piece every single day. And he saw.

Untill one day, you guys had just finished your day of work. It was fine, nothing new really. People thinking they had bigger balls then Sylus, trying to outsmart him, not succeeding obviously, and the mundane acts of answering emails, picking up the phone yada yada. You had grown accustomed to the work and everyday became easier, especially now that Sylus had grown 'closer' to you.

You turned off the computer. It had become routine for Sylus and you to eat after dinner. Usually it was with the twins. It was almost domestic, and you soaked in every moment, unsure of if it would stay this way.

Better something then nothing right? wrong

This time was no different. The four of you are eating, though the twins are doing something more akin to stuffing the food down their throat. You giggle at the mess they are making. Truly, it was a sight to behold, the almighty ruler of the N109 zone, docile at the dinnertable, with 2 boys closer to sons though he would never admit it himself, and, well, whatever you were. You didn't even know what your place was right now.

You would like to say it didn't bother you, but that would be a lie. The uncertainty of where you stood was starting to chip at your resolve day by day. You knew there was something between you two. It was undeniable. It's like saying the sun was cold. A blatant lie.

You steal a glance at him from across the table, and my oh my. Immaculate is the first word that pops into your head. It makes you chuckle, which in turn makes him raise his eyes to you in question.

You shake your head softly as the four of you engage in playful banter, with the occasional cawing from Mephisto chiming in. The clattering of dishes, the soft moonlight creeping in through the dining room windows, the soft melody of a violin all blend together into a symphony that tugs at your heartstrings. Maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself indulge, just a bit more...

~~~

You knew it would happen.

You knew...

You had prepared yourself.

Or so you thought.

But nothing, literally nothing, could have prepared you for the impact of seeing MC in your the base.

It had been a normal start to your day, really, Sylus had been out doing who knows what, and you had settled behind your desk to start with your tasks. To your surprise though, the front door had opened with enough force to shake the walls, so naturally, you became curious.

You wish you hadn't been.

Sylus was sitting on a chair with MC on the floor below him, just like how it happened in the storyline of the game.

The sight of it felt worse then a punch to the gut. Your heart clenched in protest as the fear of abandonment and the grief of loosing something that was never yours to have flood your entire being.

You didn't know what you wanted to do more, cry, because quite frankly, you could feel your heart breaking right where you stood, or laugh because you thought you ever had a chance, because despite everything you've told yourself, you had hoped for a different outcome.

You were a fool.

You were just a glorious distraction in a lovestory already written in the stars. There was no place for you here. You didn't belong here. No matter how much you blended in, you were still an anomaly. Wrong.

You willed yourself away from the room, away from the house, away from them. It felt like you were breathing through a straw, too shallow, it hurt. God, what didn't hurt? Your own footsteps sounded too loud in the corridor. You walked past the office. Past the living room, straight to the front door. You had no idea where you were going. Anywhere but here really. You didn't realize you had been crying till you felt your tears fall on your hand.

You make a weak effort to dry your face but the tears were streaming harder then you could keep up with.

Truly, what did you expect? You laughed at yourself, grieving a relationship that hadn't even begun yet. It was for the best. You don't think you could have survived it if had it progressed any further then this.

But reality dawns on you, you have nowhere to go. You had put down roots in the N109 zone, particularly at Sylus's side, and leaving it would be an immediate ticket to the afterlife. So despite it all, you try to make yourself look presentable and turn back.

The walk is daunting, every step settles a weight in your chest heavier then the step before. Fate truely was cruel, was this your destiny? Always on the sidelines, never in the spotlight, fated to die alone.

You picked up an invoice from a business partner, something the twins could have done just fine, but you wanted, no, needed an excuse for when you came back in the house.

You softly close the door behind you, and unfortunately for you, Sylus was waiting in the hall. You put on the best fake smile you could and pretended. It was all you could do right now to not fall apart.

"Where did you go?" His voice is low, with a twinge of something you couldn't quite decipher.

"I picked up this." You held out the invoice of his latest business endeavor. Signed and ready to be processed.

"You could've let Luke and Kieran handle that, no?" You don't meet his gaze. Though your very being ached to look at him, to see if maybe, just maybe, the softness was still there, maybe, just maybe, the story would rewrite itself.

But you couldn't bring yourself to look up, dread gnawing at every fiber of your being. You were afraid. Because, if that softness had faded, you would probaply fade along with it.

"Yeah, well, i needed some fresh air, so y'know, i decided to pick it up myself."

He hums, clearly not believing you, but he doesn't pry. Your eyes flicker up, despite your best efforts, and his face is unreadable. You immediatly excuse yourself to your room. The work day isn't over. He knows. You know he knows. Yet he still doesn't pry.

You close the door to your room behind you. It felt like you were suffocating, drowning in the tsunami of emotions washing over you. This is why you didn't want to fall in love. But you were weak, unlike MC, grief gnaws at you. It's all consuming. Never ending.

~~~

The following days were a blur, you kept doing your job, but your mind was not there. There was a persistant ache in your chest where your heart was supposed to be. It felt ridiculous to grieve something that wasn't yours, but you couldn't help it. Love is a fickle thing, it does what it pleases, and always managed leaves you in shambles.

The dinners go sparse. For the past few nights you have excused yourself to your room with your dinnerplate only to leave it untouched. The hunger you felt overruled by the hole the grief had shaped in your very soul.

You had started rising from your bed later everyday, not because you felt like screwing up your work intentionally, but because your body physically felt like it was crumbling under the weight of gravity. You knew you were too weak for love, yet hope was your biggest enemy friend. Naively trusting again and again.

He still went out with MC, trying to resonate with her, exactly according to the storyline, and everytime he returned after meeting with her, you could feel yourself loosing yourself more and more.

He stopped calling you by your nicknames, instead reserving them for 'miss hunter' as he so liked to call her.

He came home less frequently. Even mephisto who would occasionally check in on you while Sylus was out stopped appearing, now constantly monitoring his other half. His sorceress.

The house felt even colder then before. All but you had left the house for business. The only noises were your shallow breathing and the incessant ticking of an antique grandfather clock breaking the hollow silence of the base.

You tried to focus on the work at hand, but your eyes were glazing over your monitor, cursor roaming the screen with no real destination. Why were you transported here if you were going to be killed from the inside out. Why be kept alive somewhere where you almost start yearning for death.

The silence felt too loud, and your skin felt like sandpaper on your nerves. You will yourself back to work. In all honesty, you wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn't with you. a lie. But your heart betrayed you, logic had lost and you were paying the price.

Ring

You look down at your phone to see his name lighting up your screen. You don't move. The harsh ringing hurts your ears untill it stops. You stare at the now dark screen, till it lights up with a message.

Bossman: Why did you lie?

You blink at the screen, not sure what he meant by that, but as if sensing your confusion your screen lights up with another message.

Bossman: You said you would stop avoiding me.

You scoff, not out of anger, you could honestly never be angry at him. This was his destiny, his fate. Even the almighty Sylus couldn't outrun fate. Could he?

Your eyes burn with tears rising to your line of sight. Everytime you thought, it can't get any worse then this, it did.

Why did he still care? Or why did he pretend? No, Sylus doesn't pull stunts like that, so then why? You curse yourself as you feel yourself hope, a fragile, fleeting emotion, that brings destruction along in its wake.

You ignore him. You don't even open the message. You couldn't. He needs to fulfill his destiny, and you'll help him to the best of your abilities.

Even if it breaks you in the process.

~~~

Part 5!

A/N: Holy smokes y'all, thank you so much for the overwhelming support i've been getting lately! I'm uploading this one a bit sooner because of the delay so enjoy! I know this chapter was a bit heavy but if i'm honest, this is how i think i would react to something like this. Not everyone is as strong and unbreaking as MC, and life and love can be cruel, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Have a great day everyone!💕

Taglist:

@jeondyy @animegamerfox @nm4565natty @famouschopshopgalaxy @supershygirl @justpassingdontworry @madam8 @babygirl-panda19 @sleepykittyenergy @corvid007 @bubera974 @t0rchknight @z3vl @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @dysphxriaii @strxw-bxrri @sillyfreakfanparty @cordidy @rynnpersonal @maria-elite @dana-nite @misselysia

[woncheolisms]

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

[ratatoilett]

episode title : the one where there's fabric softener & flirting

nylu notes : sukuna's fuckass protein powder.

tags : @toniiiiiireads @cuntyji @nakiich @rriwyu @your-mum3000 @lulunx @heiejdhdh @oracle014 @sukubusss @noooo-one @sanestsanstan @minasuniverse @muli-wam @bearchermer @younjunie @kunasthiast @nina-from-317 @ehcilhc

series masterlist

INT. SUKUNA'S APARTMENT - SUNDAY - 9:02 AM

there are exactly two things that ryomen sukuna values more than his peace and his protein powder :

his painfully organized, immaculately folded laundry

and not seeing your face before 10 am

unfortunately for him, you exist.

you burst into his apartment at 9:02 am, a canvas tote stuffed with what looked like your entire wardrobe slung over your shoulder. you kick off your shoes like you pay rent, and march straight to his washer.

sukuna doesn't even flinch. doesn't look up from his coffee. just calmly sips and mutters, "there's laundromat two blocks down. has your name written all over it."

"and yet, i'm here," you chirp, already unloading clothes like you're not invading a man's life for the fifteenth time this week.

"why?" he sighs, deadpan. "genuinely, do your walls not echo enough at your place?"

you shrug. "yours has better detergent."

"i know it has better detergent. because i bought it. for my laundry."

you hold up a suspiciously shriveled pink sock and grin. "well. guess what detergent didn't do?" you wiggle it like a flag of surrender.

he stares. "—that used to be white."

"and now it's fun-sized and fabulous." you toss it in the trash like it personally offended you.

"you're banned from my washer."

"too late, buddy. tide's already rolling."

you start the machine with an aggressive beep and flop onto his couch like you live there—which, at this point, emotionally, maybe you do. sukuna eyes the pile of mismatched socks, graphic tees, and suspiciously glittery cardigan that now haunts his living space.

"you brought glitter into my home."

"i bring joy into your home," you correct.

"you bring headaches."

"and yet you never kick me out," you shoot back, smug. "you'd miss me if i stopped showing up."

there's a beat. he sips his coffee a little too long.

"i'd miss the silence," he says finally.

you throw a sock at him. it hits him dead in the face. he doesn't flinch.

"also," you say, sitting up, " i may have accidentally mixed my reds with your whites."

his eye twitches.

"there's a very real chance your boxer briefs are now—pink. or coral. depends on the lighting."

"get. the fuck. out."

"you love me," you sing, standing and dancing your way toward the kitchen. "deep, deep down—under all that scowling and emotional constipation—you love me."

sukuna slams his mug down. "you're gonna love it when i throw you out the window."

"you'd miss me mid-air."

he grumbles something unintelligible and disappears into his room—only to emerge five minutes later with a newly dyed salmon colored t-shirt dangling between two fingers like it personally ruined his life.

you laugh so hard, you nearly drop your mug.

he doesn't say a word. doesn't need to. the pink shirt speaks for itself.

but what you don't see—what you never do—is the way he watches you laugh. like the chaos you bring is the only thing that makes the quiet bearable. like your laundry, your glitter, your mismatched socks—you—have somehow made his space feel more like home than it ever did before.

and maybe one day, he'll tell you.

but today?

today he just throws the shirt at your head and mutters, "hope you're paying for new detergent."

[angrythingstarlight]

Bumblebee inspo!

So stylish! Was this Bee or Enzo's doing? 😂

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee

WC: Drabble.

A/N: Written on my phone, unbetad.

Enzo has never worked harder in his life.

He's styled mobsters, socialites, and dignitaries, all while skillfully navigating around their demanding personalities, inflated egos, and time constraints that can turn a simple process into something complicated. He thrives off that. Lives for it. His own ego boosted by exceeding their expectations.

Enzo is the best in this industry. He is the standard. Just ask him. He doesn't follow fashion trends, he creates them.

No one is better than Enzo.

His unrivaled reputation is built on his ability to keep his clients dressed in timeless, luxurious pieces while curating individualized styles that make them stand out from everyone else.

And all his hard work is being tested by a toddler.

She's both his sweetest and most challenging client.

"Ms. Barnes, this material is imported from Varese. I designed and hand crafted this myself. The stitching is immaculate. It goes perfectly with the outfit Donatalle sent over for you. Your Tar–" Enzo presses a handkerchief to his mouth, fighting the bile rising in his throat as he struggles to get the offensive word past his lips. "Apologies. Your Target coat can't begin to compare to this."

He'll never forgive you for taking her to that place.

Bee grins, smoothing her hands down her pink and black jacket. "It's pwetty. Mommy boughts it for me."

That's what she said about the leggings, the shoes and her dress. He's lost every battle. He can't even properly argue with her because Pakhan, her father, will have his head if he upsets the toddler. She's confident in her choices. And stubborn.

Enzo was hoping that particular Barnes trait would have skipped her.

But alas, here he is, resorting to begging and bribery—because he will not let her leave this shop in department store clothes. He cannot have her showing up to fashion week in anything less than an Enzo exclusive. Panic flares up when he glances at her unbothered expression. He convinced Senator Stark to stop wearing tracksuits damn it—he can convince a toddler to wear Versace.

"I will make your Tato another costume if you simply try on the clothes I picked out for you," Enzo states, holding up the jacket he made. Bee already rejected his offer to buy her coat. She said she had enough of her "Papa's monies." He almost wept. Now, his hope hinges on a stuffed dino.

"You makes him two?" She counters, earning a proud smile from Bucky. The Pakhan has been quietly working on his phone, only occasionally chuckling as Enzo becomes more and more frantic.

"Yes," he quickly says. "As many as you want."

Enzo doesn't breathe until she comes out of the dressing room, spins around in front of the mirror, and says she loves her outfit. In the end, it was the shiny, 'pwetty' shoes that won her over.

When the Pakhan and mafia princess finally left his shop to go to the first fashion show, Enzo pours himself a shot of vodka and celebrates his hard-earned victory.

Then it hits him. He still has to dress her for the rest of fashion week. Her outfits need to be on par with her parents. The three of you may be mafia royalty, but you all represent him (according to Enzo anyway). It's a challenge he looks forward to.

He pours another shot, grabs his sketchbook, and prepares for battle.

[wileys-russo]

Lia wälti, "if you don't sit down and relax right now i will tie you to the bed", living room

perfect grade II l.wälti

"lia? i'm back!" you sung out, arms ladden with groceries as you kicked the door closed and winced at the sound of the slam, hurrying to the kitchen as you felt one of the paper bag handles begin to rip.

"liebling?" you yelled as you placed the bags down on the counter and could finally exhale in relief. though you frowned not getting a response, a quick check of the living room showing the movie you'd left her watching still playing but the swiss woman who was once laid on the couch no longer there.

another check of both the bedroom and the guest bedroom turned office came up empty, a hum leaving your lips in particular at the empty office.

you'd sat by and supported your girlfriend through her studies all year, and you knew tomorrow her final grades for the term came out and all week she had been a slightly insufferable ball of stress.

so much so that with some not so gentle pressure from your mutual friends and team who lia had been snapping at all week, you'd forced her into a self care day and had been attempting to remove any and all stresses from the environment of your shared home.

that started first and foremost with you taking both her phone and laptop which had been locked away in your car all day, keys hidden and lia voicing her protests all morning but you hadn't backed down.

finally with a few kisses and a promise to make whatever she wanted for lunch and dinner and clean up afterwards so she didn't need to lift a finger, she'd begrudgingly leaned into things and began to settle.

so much so that you'd left her to her own devices for a mere forty five minutes as you ducked off to the store, but now you were beginning to wonder if that was really the right call as room after room came up empty.

then finally, you found her, a sigh of relief and roll of your eyes at the sight of her.

"lia!" you called out with a chuckle, hovering in the back door as you watched her bend down with her beloved tongs, stuffing away the dead and dying leaves of an almost finished autumn.

"lia!" you yelled a little louder, her head turning and face lighting up as she pulled out one of her airpods and gave you an adorable wave. "you are back!" she cheered and you melted seeing the smile on her face as you nodded.

"and you are not relaxing." you laughed, crossing your arms as the midfielder stood and waved off your statement. "this is relaxing for me schatz." lia grinned cheekily as you hummed and raised an eyebrow.

"no, this stresses you out!" you challenged, having always found her affinity for a near immaculate back garden both endearing and a little concerning. "do i look stressed?" lia wiggled her eyebrows and snapped her tongs at you as you passed her.

"so this does not stress you out, this is relaxing for you? self care?" you questioned, lia freezing as you extended your arm upwards, hand wrapping around a branch and a slight smile on your lips.

"yes. what are you doing?" "nothing, just stretching." you yanked downward on the branch causing lia to inhale sharply and dozens of withering leaves to rain down, your girlfriends eye twitching.

"what is wrong baby? i thought you were relaxed." you called out, another yank and more leaves raining down as lia mumbled something and you watched the grip she had on her tongs tighten, eyes darting from leaf to leaf littering the ground between the two of you.

"see? this does not relax you lia. get back inside!" you laughed, pointing back into the house as the swiss woman scoffed and snapped her tongs at you, bending down again.

"inside wälti, now!" you marched on over to her, snatching her tongs as a weird squeak left her mouth and you hid them behind your back and out of her reach.

the brunette muttering in german how stubborn you were you sighed in relief when none the less she stood up and retreated back inside with one last longing look over her shoulder to her beloved garden as you closed the back door.

"on the sofa, go!" you pointed as the girl huffed but stomped away, and you heard her begin to rewind the film as you returned to the kitchen and hurried to put away your groceries.

however one little squeak of a floorboard had your head spinning and lia cursed as you appeared, catching her with a hand on the backdoor and a guilty smile in her features.

"just ten minutes?" "no lia, today is supposed to be stress free!" "then why do you seem so stressed liebling?" lia teased, a sharp look having her give up with a sigh, retreating back to the living room.

"if you don't sit down and relax i will tie you to the bed!" you yelled after her in warning from the kitchen, tensing up in surprise as a few seconds later arms wound around your torso and a nose tucked itself into your neck.

"god you are like a cat." you muttered at how silently she'd managed to sneak inside, a hum against your skin making you cringe as her hands snuck up the inside of your hoodie and a few gentle kisses trailed up your jaw.

"you know there are other ways to work out stress." "are there?" "mmm i can think of some." you felt her smile against you, hands settling on your hips and a few more strategically placed kisses before you spun around and gave in, your lips meeting hers as you exhaled contently into her mouth.

"so tying me to the bed...was that a threat or a promise?"

[calebsdog]

Stepping inside Caleb's place in Shyhaven for the first time you are struck with how empty everything is. It was so barren that you were half convinced the place was haunted. Anyone who made it past the entryway would be able to see the lack of love decorating his bleak walls.

You were Caleb's home. Anywhere else was a prison. There was no reason to maintain this place if you weren't there. The same way he doesn't tend to his cracked, bleeding lips when you're not around. The same way he doesn't bother to season the meals he cooks if you're not sitting across the table ready to dig into your portion.

At first, you relish in the lack of life filling his home. Let him feel the same emptiness you had felt when you believed he was dead. His place should feel as cold and lifeless as the grave you thought he had been residing in.

Unfortunately, you don't celebrate his pain for long. Just looking at the dusty shelves of his home was enough to make you feel nauseous now.

You feel like a silly kid again when you turn up to Caleb's place one day with a small, cutesy stuffed toy in your hands.

"Here." You shove the innocent plush toy into Caleb's firm chest. You always accidentally became rough whenever you felt embarrassed about something. Caleb was more familiar with that habit than most.

"I thought your place could use some company." It's a stupid explanation. Just like it was a stupid idea when you first picked the fuzzy toy off of the store shelf.

You hadn't put much thought into why you wanted to give it to Caleb. All you knew was that it hurt to walk into room after room of Caleb's home and find each one as empty as the last. And you were so, so tired of hurting. Adding a touch of color to Caleb's life would give you peace of mind as much as it would him.

Caleb studies the small stuffed creature with a weight you hadn't anticipated. The colonel cradles the gift you hadn't thought through the same way he held the necklace you gave him what feels like lifetimes ago.

"Hm." With a grin Caleb holds the plushie in one hand while the other reaches out. Petting the top of your head, careful not to ruffle your hair in a way that would piss you off.

"Thanks for trusting me with this little guy, pipsqueak. Promise I'll take good care of him." And 𝘰𝘩, how could you not trust that boyish, beloved smile? The smile that stretches his cheeks, that makes him look like the Caleb you had loved and lost and mourned.

You trusted Caleb with your heart once upon a time. And had to watch in horror as the boy you trusted the most trampled all over the sensitive organ. And you wanted to hand him the shattered pieces so he could do it all over again.

"Good," you whisper, stepping away from him. If you look into those violet eyes of his, the color of an endless universe, of bright explosive galaxies, you might forget yourself.

"I can't promise I won't hurt you if you don't."

You show up with a new stuffed toy every time you visit Skyhaven now. You shove it into Caleb's warm chest, watch him study the new inanimate member of his home, before he reaches for you with a smile to pet your scalp.

A mound of plushies grows at the end of Caleb's bed. All neatly organized, beady eyes facing the pillow Caleb rests his head on whenever sleep finds him. Their fur brushed so immaculately they look better kept than when they were bought.

[ikeukiss]

what he deserves | 𝐩𝐬𝐡

୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader || ୨୧ word count: 0.2k || ୨୧ genre: smut || ୨୧ tags: sugardaddy!sunghoon, sugarbaby!reader, daddy kink, sunghoon's not much older than reader but there is an age difference, fingering || ୨୧ synopsis: "Why don't you go put on something pretty for me?" requested by anon!

↪ WANT A DRABBLE DIARY ENTRY? REQUEST ONE.ᐟ

Before Sunghoon, you hated to dress up. A night of sweatpants and a worn T-shirt was just enough for you once upon a time. Now, you're adorned with jewelry more expensive than your parents' home and wearing a dress that matches the diamonds in your ears and on your neck perfectly.

When Sunghoon asks you to wear something—his casual suggestion of "Why don't you go put on something pretty for me?"—you do it without protest because you adore the man with your entire heart.

You can't think of any other way to be than this, his perfect doll to show off to his friends who wish they were him.

And he bets they would kill to be in his position right now, his fingers stuffed inside of you in the immaculate restaurant bathroom. He paid a waiter to look the other way and watch for any other potential customers so he could fuck you without interruptions, and Sunghoon knows even the mousy kid wishes he could find someone as beautiful as you to do with as he pleases.

But fuck him. You're Sunghoon's, and nobody else's.

"Please, Daddy, I want to come so bad," you mewl into Sunghoon's mouth, gripping his forearm hard as he continues to pump his digits into you.

"Not yet, sweetheart. I want to be inside of you when that happens." Sunghoon takes his index and middle finger out to wipe clean before he tugs at his belt buckle. "Lucky for you, I can't say no to you, baby."

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @yvnempire

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

[brunchable]

Super Uncle Bucky || Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Pairings: Uncle Bucky Barnes x Auntie reader.

Themes: Chaotic humor, Babysitter Bucky

Summary: Bucky, out of his element, struggles to handle three mischievous kids who put him through a chaotic tea party, leaving him covered in stickers and glitter as you laugh and document his defeat.

A/N: You guys are just eating up my Bucky oneshots with kids so here's another one.

"Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation. . ."

Bucky stood in the middle of the living room, his once immaculate hair now a wild mess of tangled locks. His shirt was soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, while toy cars, Legos, and what appeared to be mashed-up cookie crumbs surrounded his feet. His metal arm gleamed brightly in the overhead lights, decorated with an assortment of glittery stickers — unicorns, dinosaurs, and rainbows — courtesy of the tiny hands that had attacked him earlier.

A cacophony of laughter and squeals filled the room as three tiny terrors, dressed in various superhero costumes, ran around him in circles. Bucky’s gaze shifted from one child to the next, his brow furrowed as if he was assessing a battlefield — and, honestly, this might be more dangerous than any fight he’d faced.

One of the kids, Chloe, with braids and sparkling blue eyes, clambered up onto the couch, raising her arms in victory like she’d just conquered Everest. 

“You can’t escape, Uncle Bucky!” she declared proudly, giggling uncontrollably as Bucky tried to carefully pick his way through the minefield of toys.

Another child, Chase, with a Captain America shield as big as he was, lunged at Bucky’s leg. 

“Gotcha! You’re under arrest for being grumpy!” he shouted, his voice filled with the determination only a five-year-old could muster.

Bucky sighed deeply, glancing at the living room monitor cam with a look that screamed, Send help.

— Two Hours Earlier —

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you asked, hovering by the front door with an amused smile tugging at your lips. “I can always call Nat—”

“I’m fine,” Bucky grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I’ve faced HYDRA agents, alien invasions, and Steve’s 1940s music tastes. I think I can handle a few kids.”

“Three kids,” you corrected with a grin. “Under the age of six. And they all think you’re ‘Super Uncle Bucky.’”

He smirked, crossing his arms confidently. “Piece of cake.”

With a lingering, somewhat skeptical glance, you blew him a kiss and slipped out the door, promising to be back in a couple of hours. Bucky watched you leave, his smile fading slightly as a sudden sense of unease crept up his spine.

“They’re just kids,” he muttered to himself. “How bad can it be?”

He turned around—three sets of wide eyes stared up at him, glinting with mischief. The youngest, Charlie, barely two years old, clutched a half-eaten cookie, crumbs tumbling down his chubby cheeks.

“Are you gonna fight monsters with us, Uncle Bucky? OH! Can I make your left arm look pretty?” Chloe asked sweetly, holding up a toy sword.

Bucky blinked, glancing at the sword, the cookie, and the Captain America shield in the Chase's hands.

“Uh...”

“Roar!” Charlie suddenly screeched, charging at his leg.

“Or... tea party?” Chloe suggested, a sparkly tiara slipping over her eyes.

Bucky let out a breath. “Yeah, sure. Tea party sounds—"

Chase threw his shield at Bucky's head with surprising force. “I wanna fight!”

“Tea party!” Chloe insisted.

“Bear hug!” Charlie latched onto Bucky’s leg like a tiny Hulk.

Oh boy.

— Present —

One of the children tugged on his pants, drawing his attention. Bucky looked down to see the youngest of the group — a chubby-cheeked little boy with a tuft of dark hair and bright green eyes, holding up a stuffed bear.

“Bucky bear!” he squealed, thrusting the toy up at Bucky’s face. “Hug!”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Bucky said, gingerly accepting the plush bear and giving it an awkward pat on the head. The boy beamed up at him, seemingly satisfied with Bucky’s less-than-stellar performance.

“Uncle Bucky!” Chloe on the couch shouted, bouncing excitedly. “Can we play tea party now?”

“Uh…” Bucky hesitated, looking around the chaos of the room. “Tea party sounds…calm?”

“Yeah, yeah! But you gotta dress up!” she insisted, hopping off the couch and rummaging through a pink box that looked suspiciously like it belonged in your closet. She pulled out a lacy bonnet and shoved it in Bucky’s direction. “Put this on.”

Before Bucky could even think to protest, the other two kids joined in, eagerly shoving various frilly and sparkly accessories at him. With a resigned sigh, Bucky crouched down, letting the kids pile hats, scarves, and bracelets onto him until he looked like a very unfortunate cross between a Victorian-era duchess and a Mardi Gras parade float.

“Uncle Bucky is so pretty!” Chase declared, clapping his hands in delight.

Bucky glanced at his reflection in the living room mirror, nearly did a double-take, and then grimaced. He looked like a walking nightmare in pink.

Maybe the super-soldier serum could help me survive this, he thought wryly.

“Okay, tea party it is,” he muttered, his dignity hanging by a very thin thread.

— Thirty Minutes Later —

Bucky sat crammed into a child-sized plastic chair, his knees nearly touching his chest, as he held a tiny teacup between his fingers. The kids sat around him in a semi-circle, their eyes bright with excitement.

“Would you like some more tea, Your Highness?” Chloe asked in her best impression of a British accent.

“Yes, thank you,” Bucky said solemnly, holding out his teacup. Chase with the Captain America shield delicately poured imaginary tea from an empty plastic teapot, his face set in serious concentration.

“You know,” Bucky mused, taking a pretend sip, “you kids aren’t so bad.”

That’s when the tea toy kettle started “whistling.”

Confused, Bucky turned his head — and was promptly doused with water as one of the boys squeezed the kettle’s handle, a gleeful grin on his face.

Bucky sputtered, wiping water off his face, and the room fell silent. Three pairs of wide, innocent eyes stared up at him, waiting to see how he would react.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Oh, you little punks are so going down.”

What followed was a blur of tickle attacks, high-pitched giggles, and Bucky chasing the kids around the room with his “super-speed” (read: exaggerated slow-motion running while the kids darted around him like over-caffeinated squirrels). By the time you returned, Bucky was pinned to the ground by three wriggling bodies, all of them shrieking with laughter.

You leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow, trying — and failing — to suppress a grin. “Having fun?”

Bucky looked up at you, his hair sticking up in wild tufts, his face smeared with cookie crumbs, his shirt a sticky mess of juice stains, and his metal arm glinting with a rainbow of unicorn stickers. To top it all off, a frilly pink bonnet sat crookedly on his head, held in place by a giant bow under his chin.

“Oh, you know,” he drawled, deadpan. “Just living the dream.”

You snorted, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You look like you’ve been to war.”

“Worse.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, showing off chipped, glittery nail polish on his fingers. “I’ve been to a tea party.”

You burst into laughter, doubling over as the kids cheered triumphantly. “I’m getting the camera. No way we’re not documenting this.”

“Wait, no—” Bucky tried to stand up, but a small hand grabbed his bonnet’s bow, yanking him back down with surprising force.

“No escape, Uncle Bucky!” Chloe squealed, and the other two chanted, “More tea! More tea!”

Bucky slumped in defeat, sending you a pleading look.

But you were already gone, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall.

He sighed deeply, glancing at the trio of tiny humans who had somehow become his overlords. Chloe climbed onto his back, using him like a jungle gym. “Uncle Bucky, it’s time for the royal dance now!”

Chase picked up a feathered boa and tossed it around Bucky’s shoulders. “And you have to wear this!”

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. “Yeah… maybe I did have it easier fighting HYDRA.”

[anantaru]

aventurine smut headcanons pretty please miss yoru <333

cw. [ex]plicit, dom aventurine, rough, a little filthy, fem! reader

a/n. i couldn't stop typing aaaa I love this man, he is so attractive guys giggles

without dissembling the obvious, aventurine was crazy, because he could go on for hours and hours if you wanted him to, always seeking for more.

he was insatiable, uncontrollable when he first sinks himself into your heat and moans out embarrassingly loud to show you what exactly you're doing to him.

his head falls back when you watch him gulp down the assembled saliva in his mouth, his adams apple jostling as he presses his slicked cock back into you, greedily stuffing you full.

this time, it's faster, weaved in need, and aventurine tends to ask you too, wants to know if it feels good as you nod at him weakly, arching your back just enough to keep his cock slotted where it was while sensations race back through your quivering skin.

you were swarmed on how good it felt, speechless as your mouth hangs open the moment he finds a good pace for the both of you, thrusting deep and deep and deep into you, claiming you with the thickness of his girth.

"show me how much of a messy girl you are," only aventurine could say something this filthy with a casualness in utter contrast, particularly while placing his hands under your hips to arch you the way he had found to be the most immaculate— so he can feel you tighten, wrap and suck on his shaft with your warm, wet cunt engulfing him fully.

"f-faster," you babble, "go faster," and he chuckles at your sweet eagerness, "surely that's what you need, sweetheart?"  as he raises an eyebrow before burying his face into your hair, a groan ruminating over the thin layer of skin on your neck as he does exactly what you told him to do.

and remember, he was seriously crazy, his cock remorselessly whacking your insides, rubbing without surcease over your sore walls like he knows you needed him to.

messes of spit ooze down each corner of your mouth as you're being practically thrown back and forth the bed, your jaw slacked open as you attempt to moan out something, anything would do, but the continuous blows and pressures on your pussy had suddenly taken over your bodily functions.

"you're close, i can feel it," aventurine slurs messily into your mouth before lapping through your lips with his tongue. he did it so eagerly he almost missed and hit your chin a little, the notable, coarse sounds of your pussy being filled and pleasured adding to the sensation.

"i just need you to hang on, yeah?" the wanton knots in your lower stomach untwisted a whole lot quicker than he'd originally expect them to, but undoubtedly, he doesn't mind watching the fruits of his labor glow into a flowering fancy.

who would've thought that aventurine would make you cum that fast? naturally, he did. he expected it.

that's all that can happen when you take into account just how thick his girth would push through each crevice of your walls, at once and immediate— his temperate shaft crossing your creamy walls like he was trying to corrupt you.

pop, and the knots in your stomach begin to explode, and all you can do was cry out through a strained jaw when he fucks you through it, your addicting juices gushing over his shaft and pelvis, filthily dribbling down his balls as you claim him with your arousal, the white substance clinging on his skin like the sweetest, stickiest honey.

"oh my," he sighs dreamily, "you're way too generous, dear," a satisfied grin glittering over the small dimples on his cheeks.

such excess of your fluids have certainly hugged his ego tight, aventurine will make sure to never forget savoring this moment even in his memories and dreams.

the sheer feeling of his hands meeting your body brought forth additional sparks of emotions that pressed to the surface of your skin, changing the temperature of your complete frame.

your pussy squelches and throbs around him obscenely loud, the only reason for it being just how helplessly wet he made you in this short period, granted that you knew that he'd fuck you the entire night if you so desired it.

and oh, how well he fucked you, how desperately he massages your juices over your walls like he saw it as a sick challenge to unravel you faster each time.

hot to his movements, you tiredly wrap your arms around him while laying all but spent against the bed— but aventurine doesn't stop here, while naturally, his thrusts had switched into deep grinds instead, a level slower, but still being able to feel up your staggeringly hot splotches.

for one searing, hot second, he listens to your tremulous heaves. his hand slides from your hips to your face as to drag his thumb over the tears coated cheeks, holding you delicately in clear contrast to his rough demeanor in bed.

"you're so pretty, fuck, so damn pretty," aventurine spills his deep feelings for you into this, into the jellylike utterance of his words— and do not misunderstand, because he was still crazy, touch starved of you.

but now, his touch was tender, cushiony as how you'd imagine clouds to be.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[lorelilly]

Immaculate vibes for the entire Werewolf video today. But I wanna give a special shoutout to the stuffed wolf that Spencer carried around for the entire second half of the video while he was being an absolute goblin. The man’s got his cozy little stuffie and he’s ready to wreak havoc on all his poor coworkers. 10/10

[streamsofmoon]

okay i’m imagining famous!vi x randomgirl!reader !! childhood friends who grew up in the suburbs and vi got famous for her music- now she’s one of the biggest pop stars in the world

reader is SOOO unused to the public attention. she’s always staying out of the public eye, private social media accounts, covers her face in paparazzi photos, etc etc.

giggling and kicking my feet just imagining them hard launching at like the grammys or something!!!!!

NEED a famous!vi x unrenowned!reader!!

vi x f!reader | modern day, famous!vi

synopsis: an editorial about vi hard launching at the grammys.

a/n: i wanted to try another perspective angle. it was a lot of fun! thank you, nonny, for the idea! <3

vi's hard launch at the grammys! (no one saw it coming)

by stephanie williams

last night, i had the gracious honour of being an interviewer on the red carpet. it had always been a dream of mine; to see the celebrities whose songs dominate the charts, be able to actually approach them and ask questions.

it was a whirlwind experience from start to finish. every little thing left me speechless, from the musicians' arrivals to the elegance of the venue. talking had nearly escaped and i almost forgot my own name!

everything was wonderful and perfect—but the evening did have a highlight.

i got to witness something very spectacular.

anyone who doesn't live under a rock knows who vi is. anyone who's anyone knows her music and is aware of its influence. you can't hear a vi song and not want to dance to it. her tunes are electrifying. they, quite frankly, make you want to shake your butt.

i've been a fan ever since she appeared on the scene, and this was before she made her big break. i'm talking about when she was on soundcloud, dropping teasers and singles for a few hundred people. her beginnings were humble, and so was she. she still is, to this very day, and to see her skyrocket after years in the dark was so gratifying to see.

so when i saw her strolling down the red carpet, i freaked a little (a lot).

i was aware that i'd meet her, but the awareness was no match for my nerves. meeting someone you've admired for years was and will never be a simple thing to experience.

plus, it didn't help that vi looked even more beautiful in person. all dressed in a designer black suit with no shirt beneath her two button blazer. her silvery jewelry, a brilliant match against her tanned skin and pink hair flawlessly slicked back. she was absolutely stunning.

but what specifically caught my eye was the person by her side. also immaculately gorgeous in a beautiful silk evening grown that flowed to the floor. her hair all done up and pristine; everything about her was just enchanting.

she was devastingly beautiful.

something in me immediately knew who she was. not personally, but as in who she was to vi. because of the way vi walked with her with an arm wrapped around her waist. how she'd look at her often, the softest smile gracing her lips with her eyes shimmering like stars.

i didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was pretty obvious to me as well as everyone.

vi walked down the red carpet with her guest in tow. she stopped for one or two small interviews before making her way towards me. during that time, her guest was escorted into the venue by vi's manager, leaving vi to handle what she needed to.

with, admittedly, shaking hands, i politely introduced myself to vi. she was charming, friendly, and hilarious. she made me snort-laugh too many times to count. but as the interview drew to a close, i found myself shooting my shot.

"so," i said slowly, testing the waters. "if you don't mind me asking—?"

vi grinned, like she knew where i was going. she didn't stop me, allowing me to ask my question.

"how long?" was all i said, and vi instantly knew. it was definitely not the most professional question i had asked, but vi didn't seem to mind.

"i've loved her since we were kids," vi confessed fondly, hands stuffed in her pockets. "and she isn't used to this world, so we decided to keep it quiet. anything to protect and maintain her peace. i'd do anything for her, and the only reason why she's here is because she wants to be here to celebrate with me."

there were butterflies in my stomach, violently flapping butterflies.

"she's one lucky girl," i said, smiling and vi shook her head.

"nah, i'm the lucky one," she said and soon she was waving goodbye as her manager came to get her.

vi went on to win 3 awards that night and in the pictures of her holding the awards, she's beaming ear to ear as she holds her girlfriend in her free arm. her girlfriend is also beaming just as hard, brilliant as the sun.

now i did not get to meet vi's girlfriend and maybe i never will.

but if someone is able to make vi that happy, to make a love so strong it lasts for years?

then she must be an angel.

stephanie williams

editor

[aeth-eris]

★ the physical essence of venus ★

★  aries  venus  ★ the  scarred  helmet  hanging  on  the  back  of  your  door  that  you  won’t  replace,  even  though  it’s  scratched  beyond  repair,  because  it’s  been  with  you  through  every  wild  decision  you’ve  made.  the  sneakers  at  your  front  door,  caked  with  mud  from  an  impulsive  hike  you  dragged  your  friends  on  last  spring—still  laced  tightly,  ready  to  go  at  a  moment’s  notice.  your  jacket  pockets  always  seem  to  hold  something  random—keys,  an  old  receipt,  or  a  coin  you  found  that  felt  like  it  could  bring  good  luck,  though  you’d  never  admit  it.  even  your  wallet  looks  battle-worn,  stuffed  with  notes  you’ll  never  throw  out  because  they’re  pieces  of  a  past  that  make  you  feel  alive  when  you  touch  them.

 ★  taurus  venus  ★ the  candle  on  your  bedside  table,  burned  just  enough  to  release  the  scent  of  wildflowers  but  still  pristine,  because  you’re  saving  it  for  “when  it  feels  right.”  the  blanket  on  your  couch  is  perfectly  folded,  even  though  you  use  it  every  day,  its  edges  slightly  frayed  because  it’s  older  than  you’d  care  to  admit.  your  collection  of  tea  blends  isn’t  about  drinking  them—it’s  about  the  ritual  of  opening  the  tin,  inhaling  the  scent,  and  deciding  what  fits  your  mood  that  day.  even  the  wooden  cutting  board  in  your  kitchen  feels  sacred,  smoothed  from  years  of  careful  use,  holding  the  quiet  memories  of  meals  shared  with  people  who  make  your  world  feel  steady.

 ★  gemini  venus  ★ the  pen  you  always  lose  but  somehow  manage  to  find  at  the  exact  moment  you  need  it,  its  cap  chewed  and  its  ink  running  dry  because  you  use  it  for  everything—doodles,  random  notes,  grocery  lists,  and  the  occasional  half-baked  love  letter.  your  phone  case  has  a  faint  crack  from  being  tossed  on  a  table  during  an  animated  conversation,  and  there’s  a  tiny  keychain  charm  dangling  from  it  that  you  picked  up  during  a  trip  you  can  barely  remember.  your  desk  is  a  mess  of  brightly  colored  sticky  notes,  most  of  which  have  cryptic  one-liners  that  no  longer  make  sense,  but  you  refuse  to  throw  them  away  because  they  “might  mean  something  someday.”

 ★  cancer  venus  ★ the  slightly  faded  Polaroid  stuck  to  your  fridge  of  a  moment  you’ll  never  stop  replaying  in  your  mind,  its  corners  curling  just  enough  to  show  its  age.  the  quilt  on  your  bed,  soft  with  time,  smells  faintly  of  lavender  and  home,  even  when  you’ve  been  away  for  too  long.  your  jewelry  box  holds  treasures  you  don’t  wear  but  can’t  let  go  of—a  broken  bracelet,  a  ring  from  someone  you  loved,  or  a  single  earring  that’s  lost  its  match  but  not  its  meaning.  there’s  a  jar  of  seashells  on  your  windowsill,  each  one  tied  to  a  memory  you  can’t  explain  but  would  defend  if  anyone  tried  to  move  it.

 ★  leo  venus  ★ the  golden  compact  mirror  in  your  bag  that  you  flip  open  with  a  dramatic  flourish,  even  when  you  don’t  need  to  use  it.  your  favorite  jacket,  velvet  or  sequined,  hangs  at  the  front  of  your  closet,  waiting  for  its  next  moment  in  the  spotlight,  no  matter  how  rare.  you  keep  a  framed  photo  of  yourself  from  that  one  perfect  night,  sitting  prominently  where  you  can  see  it  and  be  reminded  of  your  glow.  even  your  perfume  bottle  looks  like  art—half-full  because  you  save  it  for  moments  when  you  want  the  world  to  remember  you  by  its  scent.

 ★  virgo  venus  ★ the  planner  on  your  desk  is  immaculate,  with  color-coded  tabs  and  neat  handwriting  that  looks  like  it  belongs  in  a  design  catalog.  your  favorite  pen  is  a  gel  pen  with  just  the  right  flow—you  buy  them  in  bulk  because  losing  one  feels  like  losing  a  limb.  your  kitchen  has  a  perfectly  organized  spice  rack,  alphabetized  not  out  of  compulsion  but  because  it  just  makes  sense.  even  your  plants  thrive  in  an  oddly  perfect  way;  they’re  pruned  regularly,  sitting  in  matching  pots,  as  if  they’ve  agreed  to  reflect  your  careful  attention  to  detail.

 ★  libra  venus  ★ the  antique  hand  mirror  on  your  vanity,  slightly  tarnished  but  impossibly  elegant,  next  to  a  bottle  of  rose-scented  perfume  that’s  more  art  than  utility.  your  coffee  table  has  a  stack  of  perfectly  arranged  art  books  that  you  flip  through  during  lazy  afternoons,  marveling  at  the  balance  of  beauty  and  creativity.  your  wardrobe  holds  a  silk  scarf  or  pair  of  perfectly  pointed  flats  that  you  wear  when  you  want  to  feel  effortlessly  polished.  even  your  favorite  mug  has  an  air  of  charm—delicate,  with  a  tiny  chip  that  only  makes  it  more  perfect  in  your  eyes.

 ★  scorpio  venus  ★ the  leather-bound  journal  hidden  in  a  drawer,  its  pages  filled  with  raw,  unfiltered  emotions  you  wouldn’t  dare  share  aloud.  the  black  candle  on  your  nightstand,  burned  down  just  enough  to  release  its  smoky,  mysterious  scent,  but  not  finished,  as  if  waiting  for  the  right  moment.  your  ring  drawer  holds  a  piece  you  never  wear  anymore,  but  every  time  you  pick  it  up,  the  memories  it  holds  flood  back  so  vividly  it  takes  your  breath  away.  even  your  favorite  book  has  underlined  passages  that  feel  like  secrets  only  you  could  understand,  the  kind  you  re-read  when  you  need  to  feel  seen.

 ★  sagittarius  venus  ★ the  worn  leather  backpack  leaning  by  your  door,  its  zippers  jingling  faintly  every  time  you  grab  it  to  head  out.  your  passport  is  scuffed,  its  pages  stamped  with  memories  that  still  bring  a  grin  to  your  face  when  you  flip  through  them.  you  keep  a  jar  of  foreign  coins  from  places  you’ve  been,  not  for  their  value  but  because  they  remind  you  of  café  conversations,  train  rides,  and  sunsets  you  swore  you’d  never  forget.  even  your  favorite  shoes  are  battered  from  countless  adventures,  soles  worn  thin  but  still  too  full  of  life  to  be  replaced.

 ★  capricorn  venus  ★ your  desk  holds  a  fountain  pen,  heavy  in  your  hand,  its  ink  flowing  with  precision  as  you  jot  down  plans  that  matter.  the  watch  on  your  wrist  is  timeless—its  leather  strap  softened  with  wear,  a  quiet  symbol  of  discipline  and  style.  your  planner  is  sleek,  every  page  carefully  filled  with  tasks  and  goals,  because  each  moment  of  time  feels  like  an  investment.  even  your  scarf  is  understated  and  elegant,  folded  neatly  by  the  door,  ready  to  shield  you  from  the  chill  as  you  head  out  into  the  world  you’re  steadily  building.

 ★  aquarius  venus  ★ the  slightly  offbeat  earrings  you  wear  almost  daily,  their  mismatched  charm  drawing  compliments  wherever  you  go.  your  favorite  gadget—a  smart  device,  a  quirky  invention,  or  something  DIY—sits  proudly  on  your  desk,  a  blend  of  utility  and  rebellion  against  the  ordinary.  your  coffee  table  holds  an  art  book  or  zine  from  an  obscure  creator  you  discovered  before  anyone  else  did.  even  your  favorite  lamp  is  asymmetrical  or  futuristic,  casting  light  in  ways  that  feel  just  unconventional  enough  to  reflect  your  unique  vision  of  the  world.

 ★  pisces  venus  ★ the  candle  on  your  desk  smells  like  sea  salt  and  mystery,  burned  down  to  a  waxy  puddle  but  kept  because  it  reminds  you  of  a  fleeting,  perfect  moment.  your  dream  journal  sits  beside  your  bed,  pages  filled  with  poetry  and  fragmented  thoughts  you’ve  scrawled  in  the  dark,  barely  legible  but  emotionally  potent.  you  keep  a  jar  of  glitter  on  your  shelf—not  for  any  practical  purpose,  but  because  it  catches  the  light  like  magic.  even  your  blanket,  impossibly  soft  and  slightly  worn  at  the  edges,  feels  like  a  portal  to  the  dreamscape  you  create  every  time  you  wrap  yourself  in  it.

★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 3

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2

Chrissy Cunningham just slipped a note into someone’s locker. Robin doesn’t know whose, but it’s not Steve Harrington’s. She knows, because she’s had the absolute blessing of having him as her locker neighbor all year. And based on how often she’s seen Chrissy loitering in front of it with him, the gossip mill is right about their budding relationship.

Except Chrissy just slipped a note into someone else’s locker.

Robin watches her walk away, stomach curdling at Harrington’s name branded on her back. He might as well have raised a leg and pissed on her.

The hallway is largely vacant, everyone in their last periods of the day. Robin had been on her way to Pre-Calc after a quick stop at the restroom, but she’s scrapping that idea now: there’s a mystery afoot.

Robin hunches over the drinking fountain at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. She pushes the button but makes sure her mouth is well out of the stream of contaminated water. She’s not willing to risk botulism, not even for Chrissy.

The footsteps walk by without a pause, so she stands up, wiping the bit of splash-backed water off her cheek as she waits. After a few more false starts, and the clock ticking down to the end of the day, she’s almost ready to give it up as a bad job.

But then someone else starts stomping down the hall. She watches out of the corner of her eye, once again bent over the fountain, as Eddie Munson spins the dial on the locker and pulls it open. He immediately plucks an envelope out, pulls the tab open, and retrieves a pale-blue piece of paper.

Robin’s thumb slips on the button for the water–the abrupt absence of sound must tip him off because he turns to her, a scowl already on his face as he asks, “what are you looking at?” as he clutches the note tightly to his chest.

It’s too late. She’d already seen him smile down at it, blushing and twirling one of his curls around his fingers.

It sinks into her stomach until she’s sick, a pit to nurture and grow in the acid of her intestines. She can almost feel them writhing as Eddie’s scowl deepens into a glare the longer her silence goes on.

“Nothing,” she says, averting her eyes to bend down and pretend to tie her shoe.

Eddie huffs, and she listens to him stomp down the hall, as something wet and embarrassing begins pooling in her eyes.

She spends the rest of class hiding in the bathroom trying to get her shit together by brute force.

It doesn’t work; it never does.

***

After the random band girl had creeped on him in the halls, Eddie stuffed the letter into the pocket of his vest, half-read. The anticipation builds through the rest of the period and all the way home.

In the comfort of his bedroom he reopens the envelope and peers inside, giddy at the thought of reading the rest of the letter, this time a response to his own words. 

Should he light a candle? Dim the lights? Eddie hasn’t seen a romance movie in a long time, but this feels like the sort of moment to recreate a scene from one. He’s getting love letters. Plural. Him. Eddie of the Munson doctrine.

He doesn’t even own any candles.

       Eddie – 

       I’m not trying to bully you. I do actually really like you, and I wish I was brave enough to tell you. Brave like you. It doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of anything.

       It’s ok if you don’t know how to respond, I’m just glad you did at all. I read it at least ten times and keep it in my nightstand drawer.

       Sorry, that might be too much.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. You’re always the best part of my day. I’m just glad I can read it at all. I’ve seen your penmanship, and I was a little worried. :)

Eddie brushes his fingers against the sign-off, the pen such a light touch that he can barely feel the grooves in the paper beneath that immaculate ink.

“Yours, always,” he says, quietly in the privacy of his bedroom.

But, he’s not alone in this shoebox, so Uncle Wayne’s voice calls a too-loud, “what?” from where he’s probably still in his recliner, camped out in the living room.

“Mind your business, old man!” Eddie calls back, already lost in the land of daydreams by the time Wayne’s laugh travels back through the door he’d forgotten to close.

Wayne’s always been a good secret keeper, but this one’s too big to share. It feels weighty somehow, like it’s an overfilled water-balloon and telling Wayne, or Jeff, or anyone might fill it up to bursting.

He doesn’t want to pop this fragile thing, not when he doesn’t even have a face or a name.

He wants to know what her name sounds like on his tongue, the way her mouth purses as she carefully writes each of these little words. He wants to know what her skin feels like beneath his careful fingers.

He wants.

But, a Munson’s a Munson, and they can’t always get what they want, so he presses his pen to the paper and settles for what he can have. Not a name, maybe. Not yet, but some questions still deserve an answer, right?

*** 

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of setting a drop-off location,” Steve says, biting his nails the way his mom has always hated. He spits the bit of nail out onto the floor. Chrissy gives him a disgusted look. “What? I’m nervous!”

Nose still wrinkled, Chrissy mutters, “that’s no excuse to be a pig,” barely loud enough for him to hear.

Steve stuffs his hands beneath his armpits, scowling down at the linoleum as they make the increasingly familiar trek to the library. Before the past couple weeks, Steve could count the number of times he’d been in here on one hand, and every single one of them was because of Nancy.

Now, it feels like he and Chrissy are always camping out at one of the tables, crouching over notepads and whispering even if the library’s empty. Steve might not be the smartest guy around, but he’s not stupid; if anyone finds out about this, he’ll be lucky to make it out of town before someone kills him.

“Calm down,” Chrissy says, holding the door open for him. He steps past her, hands still crossed over his chest in what’s starting to feel increasingly like a self-soothing hug.

Chrissy must think the same because she wraps her tiny arm around his waist and leads him toward a familiar bookshelf. “He probably left it in the same place as last time.”

The word “probably” isn’t bringing him much comfort, but Chrissy doesn’t give him any more time to catastrophize before she’s pulling that same useless encyclopedia off the shelf and flipping it open. And there, tucked cozily into its pages, is another note in Eddie’s scrawl.

Steve smiles down at it before remembering their location. “You didn’t even check for witnesses,” Steve hisses.

He peers over her shoulder, eying the lone student in the research section who’s bent over a heavy tome, paying them no mind. He snaps out of it when Chrissy slaps the letter against his chest before tucking it into the pocket of Steve’s varsity jacket. She’s taken to wearing it almost religiously, even as all the other cheerleaders tease her mercilessly for it.

“Calm down,” she says, already striding away, off toward their usual table as Steve rushes to catch up. “If anyone sees, they’ll just think I’m his secret admirer.”

Logically, he knows that. But some part of him feels like everyone will take one look at his face and just know. And no matter how hard he tries, it’s not a feeling that’s easy to shake.

“Thanks, Chris,” he mumbles, bumping their shoulders together. She stumbles from the unexpected weight, but before Steve can help steady her, she’s bumping back into him with a happy laugh.

No matter how this all goes down, he can’t regret it, not when it brought the revelation that is Chrissy Cunningham into his life.

Settled into their usual chairs squeezed tightly together, she opens the letter and slides it closer to him. Steve’s eyes devour each word as she sits idly by, waiting for his response.

         Secret Admirer,

         Oh, how your words wound me! My penmanship is immaculate, I’ll have you know. But it doesn’t seem fair that you know enough about me to recognize my handwriting, and I can’t say the same.

         I understand if you don’t want to tell me your name, but what do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite color? What do you dream about?

         Can you give me anything? You call me brave but sending me these letters is the bravest thing I can think of, and every day I get one of your letters is the best day I’ve ever had.

         Sincerely,

         Eddie

         P.S. I hope I dream of you tonight.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s sighing wistfully down at the page until he catches Chrissy hiding a smile behind her hand. He smacks her in the arm with a quiet, “shut up,” but his ears are already burning.

“Can I see?” she asks, and all the fondness floods back into him.

“Course,” he says, pushing it across. He watches her face avidly, heartbeat ratcheting up as he watches a smile bloom across her face.

“He’s sweet,” she says, smiling dreamily down at the page for a moment before looking up at him with waggling eyebrows he couldn’t have imagined seeing on her face even a week ago. “He wants to dream of you.”

Her voice warbles teasingly, and the warmth on his ears starts creeping onto his cheeks and down his neck. Unable to help himself, Steve shoves her arm again. “Shut up!”

All she does is laugh and latch onto him to keep herself upright.

“He wants to know you,” she says, still smiling, still teasing, but it’s okay when it’s her, not like Tommy’s cruel ribbing or Carol’s barbed words. “So, what do you want him to know?”

PART 4