#JUST GOTTA WAIT UNTIL MARCH

[someone7619]

GODZILLA MINUS ONE GOT NOMINATED FOR VISUAL EFFECTS AT THE OSCARS!

I'm going insane, I seriously have to lock in and MAKE SURE GODZILLA MINUS ONE WINS!!!

IAMSANEIAMSANEIAMSANEE!!111!!11

[smilesrobotlover]

Wanna explain the lore of something in love at twilight but the thing hasn’t even been introduced 😔

[todayisafridaynight]

everytime i mention game ending myself In Minecraft my brother always pulls through like 'but you have to find out what happens to jo' like my god you're right....... what's gonna happen to jo.........

[magurosnacks]

scheduling my commissions to open nov 1 at 12 am MST, tell ur friends

[cottageivy]

i stg if i wake up with as bad of cramps as i had today i will cry

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Guilty as sin ✦ 」

[Theodore Nott × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary:(Request) Theo x f!reader where she is a huuuuuge flirt. Flirts with the whole slytherin gang, the golden trio, literally everyone EXCEPT Theo and it doesn’t bother him until his friends start teasing him about it and then it drives him CRAZY. So he tracks her down and she’s all blushy like “idk how to flirt with someone I actually like??” And then smut ensues

Warning: smut

Words:3.5k

Laughter echoed through the empty corridor – a welcome reprieve from the usual bustle of Hogwarts life. We were on a glorious post-lunch break, a rare moment where none of us had classes.

Draco, ever the stoic one, smirked from the corner, a hint of amusement flickering in his grey eyes. Blaise, reclining against the wall along with mattheo and Enzo .

“So, what’s got you all so chipper today?” I asked, leaning against the wall opposite them, my eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh, just the usual,” Mattheo replied with a grin, his eyes scanning me up and down. “Though your presence certainly brightens things up.”

I laughed, a playful glint in my eye. “Is that so, Mattheo? I’m flattered.”

“Flattered, are you?” Enzo chimed in, his smile broadening. “Just wait till you hear what Draco’s been saying about you.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile playing at his lips. “Don’t drag me into this, Enzo.”

I arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what exactly has Draco been saying?”

Draco finally looked directly at me, his smirk deepening. “Nothing that wouldn’t make you blush, I’m sure.”

Suddenly, the air shimmered and Theo materialized beside me, a frown etched on his handsome face. My laughter died in my throat, replaced by a nervous flutter in my stomach.

Don't get me wrong, Theo was so attractive. Tall, dark, and mysterious, he exuded an aura that drew you in like a moth to a flame. That’s why I always act that awkward whenever he show up.

"Hey, Y/L/N," Theo greeted me, his voice a low rumble. "Having fun?"

But before I could respond, a mischievous glint sparked in Blaise's eyes. "Having fun? She's practically rolling on the floor here! Just look at her," he nudged me with his elbow, "completely smitten with my hilarious story."

My cheeks burned. "Oh, shut up, Zabini," I swatted him playfully. "It was Enzo's joke that was funny, not yours."

Enzo chuckled. "Thanks, Y/N."

We all fell into a comfortable banter again, the conversation flowing like a well-worn path. But with every witty remark aimed at me, every playful touch from Blaise or Enzo, I found myself subtly shifting away from Theo. It wasn't intentional, not really. Maybe a subconscious defense mechanism, a way to keep myself safe from the intensity I sensed in him.

Finally, unable to handle the mounting tension any longer, I blurted, "Oh, well, this has been lovely, but I actually have to…" My voice trailed off, searching for a believable excuse.

"Potions homework?" Blaise offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah, yes," I stammered, "Look at the time! I completely forgot, I have to—"

"Go?" Mattheo finished my sentence with a playful grin, his eyes flickering between me and Theo. "That seems to be your usual line whenever Nott graces us with his presence."

A collective laugh went up from the others, but a blush crept up my cheeks. Was it that obvious?

"See, Theo? That's just how Y/N is. Always gotta disappear when you show up."

Behind me, I could hear the eruption of laughter. Draco's voice rang out, That's just how Y/N is. Everyone but you Nott, gets the charm offensive."

I winced, a mixture of guilt washing over me, I grabbed my bag and walked away.

As I walked to the class the next day my stomach lurched, I scanned the room. Every single seat was taken except for one – the one directly next to Theo. A wave of annoyance washed over me. Why did I have to be the one stuck beside him after yesterday's awkward retreat?

With a resigned sigh, I marched towards the empty chair, determined to keep our interaction to a minimum. Just as I sat down, the classroom door slammed open, and Professor Snape strode in with his usual scowl.

"Settle down!" his baritone voice boomed. "Since we're already behind, we'll be starting immediately. Take out your textbooks and quills, we're brewing Veritaserum today."

My shoulders slumped. Of course, today would be the day Snape insisted on absolute honesty. Great.

I grabbed my textbook with a muttered curse, desperately trying to ignore the heat radiating from beside me. Theo. He was practically close enough to see the worried frown etched on my forehead.

"Rough day, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine despite myself.

I kept my eyes glued to my textbook, pretending to be engrossed in the complicated brewing instructions. "Just fine," I mumbled, my voice a touch too high-pitched.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Do I make you nervous, Y/N?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

My cheeks burned. Did he have to be so perceptive? "No," I lied unconvincingly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"Then why the avoidance act?" he pressed.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I couldn't take it anymore. Taking a deep breath, I finally looked at him, ready to fire back with a witty retort.

But as our eyes met, something unexpected happened. All the bravado I had practiced in my head evaporated. His gaze held a depth I hadn't noticed before, a hint of something… more.

The stern voice of Professor Snape cut through the sudden tension. "Miss Y/N, Mr. Nott! Pay attention or face detention."

Flustered, I tore my gaze away from Theo.

The moment Professor Snape dismissed the class, I bolted. My cheeks still burned from Theo's teasing, his words replaying in my head like a broken record. "Do I make you nervous?" Ugh, the audacity!

Heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I weaved through the throng of students, desperate to escape the classroom and the lingering scent of Theo's cologne.

As I rounded a corner, I slammed right into someone, the impact knocking the breath out of me. I stumbled back, muttering an apology.

"Easy there, love. Running from something?"

My cheeks burned like someone had set them on fire with a dragon's breath. "No, no, of course not," I stammered, my voice tripping over itself. "Just... eager to get to my next class."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his grey eyes. "Really? Because you look like you just escaped a dragon attack in those robes."

"I-I really have to go," I mumbled again, yanking my arm free from Matteo's grasp.

Before he could say another word, I bolted. I sprinted down the hallway, robes billowing behind me, desperate to put as much distance as possible between me, Theo.

The thoughts I harbored about Theo, well, they were borderline scandalous – even for the often-unconventional wizarding world. Wet dreams were a daily torment, a vivid tapestry woven with stolen glances and the memory of his low chuckle. Even the most mundane tasks became infused with Theo. Daydreams, unwelcome and potent, hijacked my mind, filling it with images of his strong arms wrapped around me, the feel of his warm skin against mine, and those lips... oh Merlin, his lips. The very thought of them sent a jolt through me, leaving me breathless and yearning.

It was a full-blown obsession. Every interaction, every stolen glance, was a spark that ignited a wildfire within me. I envisioned stolen touches, whispered secrets, a clandestine world where it was just us. These "visions," as I'd begun calling them, were both exhilarating and terrifying. Had I lost my mind?

Looking at him was like staring into the sun – an act both beautiful and blinding. I craved his attention, yet recoiled from it in equal measure, afraid of what it might reveal – both about him and the depth of my own desires.

The moment I reached the solitude of my dorm room, I threw myself onto my bed, burying my face in the soft pillow. It was just me and the storm raging within. Seeking a semblance of control, I reached for my most trusted companion – my sketchbook. Flipping to a blank page, I did what had become a nightly ritual: I drew Theo.

His face materialized on the page with practiced ease – the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his eyebrows quirked slightly when he was amused, the intensity of his gaze that seemed to pierce right through me. Each stroke was infused with a longing so deep it ached. As I added the final details, a desperate thought crossed my mind – what if, somehow, magically, drawing him like this would bring him closer? A ridiculous notion, even for a witch like me. But a girl can dream, right?

The drawing complete, I flipped back through the pages, revisiting the countless iterations of Theo that filled my sketchbook. Each one a silent testament to my growing obsession. A pang of guilt stabbed at me as I traced the outline of his lips in one particular sketch. Here I was, feeling like I'd committed a sin, when in reality, our interactions hadn't even reached the stage of a stolen touch.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips. This was madness. Yet, as I drifted off to sleep that night, the sketchbook remained tucked under my pillow, a silent guardian of my unrequited affection.

The next day, the weight of my secret world pressed down on me like a lead blanket.

My usual bubbly demeanor was replaced by a forced smile and a dull ache in my chest. The boys exchanged worried glances, their questions a constant reminder of the truth I couldn't share.

Mumbling an unconvincing excuse about feeling unwell, I escaped the classroom the moment the bell rang, desperate for some fresh air and a moment of solitude.

Once I was finally away from everyone I grabbed my bag, then it happened, panic clawed at my throat as I realized my sketchbook was missing.

I scoured my bag again, desperately searching every compartment, but it was nowhere to be found. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I carried that sketchbook everywhere, afraid of someone stumbling upon my secret world.

Fear morphed into a cold dread as I retraced my steps, hoping it had simply fallen out of my bag somewhere.

The thought of someone, anyone, seeing my drawings, especially Theo… the very notion sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through me.

I retraced my steps, combing through the classroom once more, a desperate hope clinging to the edges of my despair. But it was futile. The sketchbook was nowhere to be found. My mind raced, picturing prying eyes and whispered secrets. This was a disaster.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the rising tide of panic. "Searching for something, Y/L/N?"

I spun around so fast I nearly toppled over, my eyes widening as they landed on Theo. A self-assured smirk played on his lips, and in his hand, he dangled my precious sketchbook.

"Theo!" I gasped, the sound strangled and desperate. My cheeks burned with a mixture of mortification and a strange, exhilarating thrill.

Instead of listening to my frantic plea, he held the sketchbook just out of reach, the amusement in his eyes deepening. "Such beautiful secrets you keep hidden, Love."

The blood drained from my face. "Give it back to me, Theodore," I demanded, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands.

He chuckled, a low, beautiful sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Not so fast, love. Perhaps there's something in here that warrants a little… negotiation."

Frustration bubbled up inside me. I lunged for the sketchbook, my fingers brushing against his hand. But he easily outmatched me, holding it high above my head. The height difference was agonizing.

"Give it back!" I hissed, my voice laced with desperation.

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't decipher. Then, before I could react, his other hand shot out, landing firmly on my waist.

A gasp escaped my lips as a jolt of electricity shot through me at his touch. He used the momentum to pull me closer, turning us around so that my back slammed against the cool surface of the empty classroom door my eyes widened when he locked it. My breath hitched in my throat as his warm body pressed against mine.

His face was inches from mine, his breath tickling my ear. "Now," he murmured, his voice a husky rumble that sent a delicious shiver down my spine, "Care to explain what is it about?”

"No "I say "Just give it back!"

Instead of replying, he pulled away, placing the sketchbook on a nearby table with a soft thud. I made a move to grab it, but he was faster. With a single, smooth motion, he used one hand to capture both of mine, pinning them above my head against the cold, unforgiving surface of the door.

His touch sent a jolt through me, a current that both terrified and excited me. His gaze was intense, boring into mine, and suddenly his earlier amusement was replaced by something else entirely.

"So," he said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

"you just decided to ignore my entire existence? The social butterfly with all her friends, suddenly giving me the cold shoulder or vanishing into thin air whenever I'm around. Then I find out you've been drawing me… like a hundred times? Which by the way I'm not complaining about but— ," he added, "but seriously, Y/N, what have I done that you can't bear to stay in the same room with me for a minute?"

His words hit me like a physical blow. Shame burned through me, hot and fierce. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely a choked sob, my eyes desperately seeking the floor.

"Look at me, love," he commanded, a gentle firmness in his voice.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. His face was unreadable, a mixture of concern and something else – something that made my heart skip a beat.

"Good girl," he murmured, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Now, say it. What have I done to make you hate me that much?"

"It's the opposite," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, fueled by a desperate need for him to understand. "I like you, Theo. A lot. Those feelings… they're so intense, so confusing, and I just don't know how to act around you. I see you and I freak out. I can't breathe, my heart races and then those unholy thoes…" My voice cracked, and tears welled up in my eyes.

He leaned closer, his hand brushing a stray tear from my cheek. "Breathe, my love," he whispered, his voice gentle, his touch sending sparks dancing across my skin. "Breathe."

I did, taking a shaky breath, closing my eyes as his face came closer. His touch was everywhere – on my cheek, my neck, his warm breath against my lips. "Are you mad?" I whispered, barely audible.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Quite the opposite," he murmured, his lips brushing mine with a feather-light touch. Then, in one swift movement, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both electrifying and grounding.

His hands gripped my hips, lifting me off the floor effortlessly. I gasped as I looked into his eyes, seeing the raw desire burning within them. "You smell so good," he murmured, his lips finding my neck. His stubble tickled my sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"You know those thoughts you talked about," he continued, placing soft kisses along my jawline. "I have similar thoughts too."

I moaned as he sucked on my earlobe, my head falling back to give him more access. His lips moved down to my neck, his tongue tracing a path along my collarbone.

His hands tightened on my hips, and I could feel his erection pressing against me. I couldn't help but grind against him, feeling his length rub against my clit through our clothes.

"I want to leave marks on your skin, so everyone knows you're mine," Theo growled, his lips moving down to my neck. His tongue traced a path along my collarbone, and I shivered with delight.

"Yours?" I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, baby. Mine. And those fuckers need to know this," he said, I couldn't help but smile. I knew they had been teasing him for how I had been ignoring him.

His lips traced a path along my collarbone, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I shivered with delight as his hand gripped my hair, pulling me to him he looked at my eyes for a second then kissed me. His lips were soft and eager, and I couldn't help but respond.

He turned me around his head on my shoulder "Tell me your deepest fantasy. I'll make it a reality for you,"

His hands went inside my skirt, and I felt his fingers on my thighs. "Can I touch you?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I nodded, my breath hitching in my throat.

“ oh Merlin “ I say my whole body shaking his finger rubbing circles on my clit fast then slow making me losing my mind

“ not Merlin baby me say my name, do i make you feel good ? “ he say in my ear

“ yes Theo oh yes you do “ I say my body still shaking .

"Do you want me to be rough with you, or gentle?" He asked, his finger sliding inside me. I gasped, holding onto his arms for support.

"No one has touched you like this before, baby?" He asked. I shook my head, unable to trust myself to respond without screaming.

"Good, and no one else will," He said, his fingers moving inside me. I felt myself getting closer to the edge, my whole body tensing up.

"I love how you arch your back when I do this. You're so responsive," He said, his fingers moving faster inside me. I screamed, my whole body shaking with pleasure.

He put his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries "Shhh” He said, his voice soothing.

I felt it happening. My whole body shook, and if not for his strong arm around me, I would have fallen. I screamed with his hand still on my mouth. I came for the first time in my life, and oh lord, it felt like heaven.

"You did so good for me, baby. So good."

Put his fingers in his mouth, savoring my taste. "I love the way you taste, the way you smell. You're like a drug to me,".

He picked me up, setting me on the desk. pushed the books and papers aside, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he pulled me to the edge of the desk, his hands on my thighs.

"Is this like your fantasies?".

"No," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "It’s much better."

His lips were on my inner thighs in an instant, his tongue tracing a path up to my panties. He pulled them down, his fingers grazing my skin. My breath came in short gasps.

"Do you want me to use my fingers or my tongue? Or maybe both?"

His tongue found my clit, and I moaned as he licked and sucked, his fingers exploring my wet folds. I grabbed onto the edge of the desk, my legs shaking.

Theo pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. He reached for a pen on the desk, pulling it towards him. wrote "mine" on my inner thigh, his eyes locked on mine.

His fingers slid back inside me. I moaned again, my hips bucking against his hand.

His tongue found my clit once again , and I moaned louder this time. He sucked and licked, his fingers moving inside me in a steady rhythm. I could feel my orgasm building for the second time.

"Oh, Theo," I moaned, my hips bucking against his hand.

He moved his fingers faster, his tongue lashing against my clit. I cried out as my orgasm crashed over me again.

He pulled away, making his way up to kiss me. I was shaking in his arms, but he wrapped them around me, making me feel safe and comfortable.

As I trembled in his arms, He held me close, his embrace warm and comforting. He gently brushed my hair away from my face, kissing my forehead tenderly.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice full of admiration and love.

I rested my head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The intensity of the moment began to fade, replaced by a soft, soothing calm. Theo's hands traced gentle circles on my back, his touch reassuring and tender.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, concern evident in his eyes.

I nodded, feeling a smile tug at my lips. "I'm more than okay. Thank you."

He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Theo, I need to tell you something,” I said, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

He looked at me with those deep, caring eyes, waiting patiently.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I don’t mean to scare you with it now, but I’ve been holding it to myself for too long and I wanted you to know.”

A smile spread across his face, and he leaned in to kiss me softly, his lips curing my words. “You don’t have to anymore,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to my fears. He looked into my eyes, his expression sincere. “I love you, and I will prove it to you every single day.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, not of sadness, but of overwhelming relief and happiness. “Promise you won’t hurt me?” I asked, my voice small and vulnerable.

“Never, baby,” he said, pulling me closer. “I promise. I will never hurt you. I’ll always be here for you.”

I buried my face in his chest, letting his warmth and words envelop me, my gaze wandered to the ink on my thigh. The word "mine" stood out boldly, a possessive claim that made me giggle despite the seriousness of everything that had just happened.

Theo noticed and raised an eyebrow. "What’s so funny?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

I pointed to the makeshift tattoo. “This. ‘Mine.’ You really went all out, didn’t you?”

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You bet I did. I had to make sure those fuckers know you’re off limits from now on.”

I laughed, “Oh, I’m sure they’ll get the message loud and clear.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[wheeboo]

big spoon, little spoon | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which ask your boyfriend if he wants to be big spoon or little spoon. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing (in the dark lmao), one curse word, terms of endearment, just boo being rlly affectionate :< WORD COUNT. 1.2k

requested from anon: congrats on 2k lovely!!! ❤️❤️❤️ for ur event may i please req seungkwan + #6 list one? thank u ahhhhh and congrats again - #6: "I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms."

notes: thank u my love !! i hope u enjoy <3 i had too much fun writing this pls 😭😭

join the 2k celebration!

"Okay, so big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

Seungkwan just freezes from where he stood in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still dangling at his lips with bits of foam at the corners of his mouth. You're literally staring at him like you're waiting for him to answer and that it wasn't actually a rhetorical question.

"Are you asking me𑁋okay, wait." He marches back into the bathroom to hastily spit and rinse out his mouth, before coming back out with determination in his step. "Are you asking me if I want to be big spoon or little spoon?"

There's a playful lift to your lips as you sit down on the edge of his bed, and Seungkwan can very much see that slight mischievous look to your features. He can already feel the heat of the moment shoot up towards his ears, and he prays that the room is dark enough to hide it.

"Yeah, I am. Since, you know, we always sorta switch around every day," You say, nodding with a teasing grin. "And, well... I'm being considerate, as your partner and all. I gotta know all your preferences..."

God, Seungkwan feels like he's sinking into quicksand at his feet. Are you really at his place every day? He hardly ever thought about how often you were here, like how these nightly rituals had practically become routine now. He swears his heart does a little happy flip-flop at the thought.

It all started with movie night dates that bled into you two eating breakfast together, dinner dates that turned into you helping wash dishes at three in the morning, and then that particular comfortable silence that settled completely at this point. Every day, there always seems to be another reason for you to stay a little longer, another excuse to linger until the streetlights cast an orange glow through his curtains.

And Seungkwan knows he won't ever get tired of it𑁋he won't ever get tired of having you around. Not now. Not anytime soon. Not ever.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling whatever embarrassment he had in his chest start to dissipate and replaced by a rush of warmth.

"Okay, well, as your very considerate and caring boyfriend..." He crosses his arms together. "what do you prefer?"

You purse your lips together, as if deep in thought. You didn't mind being either little or big spoon, but the thought of Seungkwan having his arms around you right now𑁋if you could describe it𑁋felt like being wrapped by a warm cloud, a feeling of pure, weightless security that chases away all possible worries.

But it isn't just about the comfort, although it's certainly a big part of it. It was the feeling of being safe and cherished, completely enveloped in his embrace. It was the feeling of home.

A slow smile graces across your face.

"I'll take little spoon," You answer gleefully, already crawling more onto his bed and tucking yourself under the covers with a little wiggle. Whatever façade Seungkwan had been putting up crumbles completely at the sight. A blush creeps up his neck, barely visible in the dim light, but his smile widens.

He chuckles softly as he joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. After flicking the lampshade off, he carefully maneuvers himself right beside you until he feels your warmth hit his skin. Then he slowly circles his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body, with your back meeting his chest. A low, contented hum leaves his lips as he simply holds you.

You wriggle in slightly, and he adjusts his hold, letting an arm curve over your stomach and the other one under your body to pull you even closer, fingers momentarily brushing against the hem of your shirt. You feel your legs entangle together under the blanket, and you swear the world gets smaller, quieter.

Seungkwan thinks you fit perfectly in his arms; it's like you've always belonged there.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice muffled against you.

Your chest rises up and down with a soft sigh. "Mhm..."

The moments that pass are purely silence as he continues to hold you. You could probably fall asleep at this second, yet you feel the way Seungkwan's hand drifts lower from your waist, tracing gentle circles on the fabric of your shirt above your stomach. It's light, just barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

And then you feel him moving around behind you, breath tickling your skin, before his lips press a brief, tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

Maybe you can sense the small smile to his face right afterwards, too.

"You're so soft," he mutters, but there's a bit of tentativeness to his tone.

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. "I𑁋Aren't we supposed to be trying to sleep?"

"Sorry," Seungkwan apologises, but you can still hear the smile in his voice. He presses another gentle kiss to your neck, then draws back, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "Just like holding you like this."

The giggle that leaves you is shaky, nervous, as if there's a small, timid butterfly trapped in your ribcage struggling to take flight. He can probably hear the way your heart is pounding like a damn drum right now, but he doesn't comment on it. Thank goodness.

A thought crosses your mind, and it takes you a minute to cave into flipping yourself over to face him. A groan escapes him from the sudden change in position, but he quickly settles. The two of you can't really see each other that well since the room was basically suspended in darkness, but you can clearly feel his presence beside you, all comforting and familiar.

"I like being held by you too," You confess quietly, each syllable laced with your own hesitancy. "I... I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms, to be honest."

The sound of Seungkwan's breath hitching echoes throughout the room. Are the walls closing in? He's not hallucinating or imagining any of this, right? He wishes he could pinch himself, but he's busy holding you, and you're the only thought filling his mind right now.

He leans in closer, ever so slowly. He can see the faint outline of your face thanks to the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains.

But just as his lips are about to meet yours, you feel a sudden contact at the tip of your nose. You flinch a little, scrunching your nose up for a second, and Seungkwan pulls back immediately with a gasp.

"Oh my go𑁋did I just𑁋" He stammers frantically, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..."

"Baby," You call out affirmingly, aimlessly bringing a hand up to cup his face through the darkness. Then you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, or specifically... the corner of his mouth. Close enough, anyway. "There we go."

Seungkwan just blinks, eyelashes batting furiously as he feels you shrink back into his hold. This time, you place your head at the crook of his neck, breathing fanning against his skin and making him shiver in your hold, even though he's supposed to be the big spoon.

"Let's go to sleep," You murmur lowly, and if he wasn't used to how pretty your voice sounds when you're tired by now, he should really get his shit together.

And so, Seungkwan just secures his hold around you, but not before mouthing a set of three words that he knows you can't see in the darkness, but hopes you can feel in his embrace.

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[arabaka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ miguel x spidey!fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! NO SPOILERS !!!! splashes of angst. unprotected sex. creampie. cervix fucking. WORD COUNT: 1.8K PSD CREDIT!!! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI !!!!!!!（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ @miguelism @pompomegranate come get ya mans !!!!! PART TWO HERE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You can still see him here.

It’s not real and it never will be– not again, anyways.

“March 13th.” 

How long are you going to keep doing this? Your jaw tenses. Here we go again.

The argument is a solo act; there’s no one to talk to here but you. So naturally, you run the same trite script until it comes to the same inevitable conclusion: giving in to the self-indulgence.

The bad thing’s already happened. You lost Miguel– well, more like he lost you. You’re the one trapped in this purgatorial vortex. The space that lies between every what if, the border of every possibility.

And it’s so fucking lonely.

So it’s ironic that your multiverse jumping wristband is good for anything but its intended use. It mocks you, its amber projections burning red when you even so much as try to go home. Not to your original timeline– to HQ.

To him.

But you know that will never happen so you make do with what you have: the memories stored on your gadget, the device looking worse for wear with jagged claw marks running down its sides, disappearing into the scarred flesh that lies beneath it. 

He didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that.

You wish you could tell him.

You (metaphorically) furiously fan away that cloud of remembrance. You’re already stuck, no need to dwell on the last time your heart was ripped out. You lie back, resting against nothing but floating amongst everything. Limbo sure is weird.

Arm resting over your stomach, you train your eyes on the happier time playing out from the screen on your wrist. It’s not perfect; the vision cracks, sometimes glitches in reds and greens before going back to normal. It’s getting worse. 

There you go again! We’re trying to have a good time here. 

Right. Right.

Sorry.

Focus.

You take a deep breath, chest rising and falling steadily.

Focus.

You close your eyes and when you reopen them, fix them on the screen that shows you strutting in Miguel’s domain, it’s like you’re there.

It’s like you’re back home.

“You gotta eat, you know.” Tossing a paper bag way up high, it doesn’t surprise you that he catches it with lightning fast reflexes, even with his back turned to you. “And if you don’t, I’ll make ‘em take empanadas off the menu.” 

He’s still. Only sound coming from him is the rustling of the bag. At least there’s that, you think as you approach the floating platform. “Don’t make me come up there!” You holler, though you only get your own echo in return. 

Shit. He’s in a mood.

Throat flexing with a thick swallow, you decide to go up anyways– you sure don’t want to wait for him to come to you. Thing’s slow as hell.  

Webs whipping from your wrist, you fashion a slingshot apparatus to propel you yards into the air. Nothing beats the rush of a flight, even now as you descend into what could be a particularly thorny situation with a particularly grumpy man. 

But he’s your particularly grumpy man. 

“Hey,” Your voice starts softly, “Everything–”

He turns around, stopping you in the middle of what was going to be your magnum opus of pep talks to show he’s got a mouthful of doughy goodness that keeps him from talking. And when he swallows, there’s a damn smirk waiting for you to kiss.

You don’t fall for it, at least not now but god do you want to. But first…

“Asshole!” 

“You just jumped to conclusions.” Another bite of the savory empanada just to tick you off. You’re so cute when you’re annoyed, even if it’s all in good fun. Your cheeks puff up and your nose scrunches when your eyebrows furrow. He’ll kiss you if you won’t.

“Oh, real mature. Hiding behind–” 

In a flash, the empanada goes back in the bag and in red glowing binds gets fastened to the side of his computer mainframe, freeing up his hands to pull you close. A little too roughly, but you melt into his big frame regardless, lips pursing against his and giggling when you can taste meat and spice.

“How romantic.” You mutter and he laughs.

God, his laugh. Nobody heard it too often– nobody but you, that is.

When Miguel was with you, it’s as if you two were in a world of your own. A timeline of your own. Where past transgressions and terrible happenings were nonexistent. Where he could be him, the man he was supposed to be: sweet, charming, and kind. And where you could love him like he deserved.

Is someone else filling that role now? 

Great! You’re thinking too much again. Stop fucking this up!

“June 27th!” You blurt, warped back to reality when your thoughts strayed too far from the projection. 

The picture’s changed now. You’re home, your residence littered with reminders of Miguel. It’s empty, but not for long. The front door slams open and you and Miguel come pouring in, him taking the lead as the two of you blindly navigate the foyer with your lips locked and hands gripping each other for dear life.

Your cheeks in real time burn. Maybe you shouldn’t stay for this memory.

Oh, don’t be such a prude. It’s literally you! The little voice in your head chastises and honestly… You can’t argue with that.

“M-Miguel, I don’t– I don’t have– I’m not on–”

“Shut up.” A tempered hiss is pressed to your lips, thick digits coming to frame your face as he pushes you further into the space you’ve come to share together. “Or I’ll change my mind about filling you up.”

You can’t argue with that.

“Say it.” His growling crests your ears, breath hot and fangs out just moments later when his pelvis is flush against yours, cock buried to the base in your sopping wet pussy. You swear he’ll drip drool on you at this point, the man driven to the brink of his sanity by the way your cunt hugs him so tight. It’s like you want to milk him for all he’s worth. 

Your hands paw helplessly at his chest, all your energy zapped as your eyes roll back under the curtain of fluttering fluffy eyelashes. “F-Fuck Miguel– f-fill me up!” 

“Keep going.” His voice is low, rich and dark.

The fat head of his cock presses up against your sensitive bundle of clitoral nerves, slamming hard when you whimper and cry for him, “Right there, right there!” You start to babble, the words freely flowing from your kiss-bruised lips because your brain is long gone, “F-Fuck me, need your cum– need you, need you, Miguel! Please don’t stop, please!” 

“Yeah? Can’t feel whole without my cock? Need it?” His tone seeped in pride, he loves seeing you unravel for him like this. “I’m givin’ it to you baby, right where you need it. You feel that? Your little pussy crying for me, so fucking wet. Fuck, you’re so good. Good for me.” He’s kissing you now, sloppy and panting into your mouth before his tongue ravishes yours and swallows every moan you give him.

Your legs locked around his waist still bounce, hips raised off the bed by Miguel’s brutish clutch so he can bully more of himself into you, harder and faster. Your lower body limply follows his every move, takes every slam and thrust all the while wet squelches fill the room. Your vision finally coming back, you see his nostrils flare and his eyes glazed over with a beastly kind of lust. It’s enough to make your bones shiver.

You can’t help but let your gaze rest there, even as he fucks you within an inch of your life, always so fervent with his thrusting as he stuffs you full, but you just can’t get over this view: his pectoral muscles flexing when you tighten up around him in just the right way, the way sweat gathers on his brow before trickling down his sharp jawline, and the way his lips stay agape because if he’s not groaning, he’s growling.

“That’s it, mi vida. Doin’ so good. Pussy takin’ me all the way in. Shit– I’m addicted. Might just fuck you raw every time. Want that?” One hand comes to your face, thumb just barely squishing your cheek and making you pout. “Say it.” 

“Y-Yes, yes! Please Miguel!” Tear drops glimmering in the corners of your eyes, you plead for him, “C-Cum inside me, I’m getting close!” Every sense of yours is on fire, everything burning bright for him and only him. Always for him.

And you see a similar inferno explode in his narrowed eyes just then and it’s immediate, the way he unhooks your legs from his waist and bends them aaaalllllll the way back until your knees are violently knocking against the mattress, his lumbering body taking yours in the mating press he so adores.

Because he gets to fill you to the brim. Bump and grind against your cervix until even that soft nodule is his. He’s staking his claim, making you his as the soles of his feet dig deep into the sheets, his toned limbs caging your bouncing body until you’re nothing but a squealing little mess for him to clean up.

His balls slap firmly and roughly against your folds, sticky webs of cum starting and breaking each time he snaps his hips. Your walls tremble around him, gushing out more of your essence every time. You’re just about undone. He can feel it.

But so is he, his already thick cock pulsating with another rush of blood as the coil in his stomach heats up. He puts all his weight into you, onto you the last couple thrusts – he knows you can take it – so he can kiss you. So he can taste you.

“‘M cumming, c-cumming…” Your words are muffled and tired, eyes wheeling back as your orgasm hits you hard and heavy, Miguel following soon after with plenty of cum to fill your pretty pussy up with and an animalistic series of grunts as his cock twitches and throbs inside you. It’s thick and so much, too much so that the opaque matter starts to pool out when his hard shaft finally leaves you, giving your featherlight folds another heaping layer of viscosity.

“‘Tch– it’s comin’ out already.” He huffs, though with a bit of a laugh. “Can’t have that.” So his fingers gather what’s remaining and slip into your cunt before he pops another kiss to your parted lips, nipping just a teeny bit on the bottom half to get you to squeal one last time for him.

And that’s how the video ends. That’s how you finish, having followed along with lithe fingers rubbing your aching clit and one or two at any time plunged and crooked inside you, but it’s not the same. 

It’ll never be the same.

[emeritusemeritus]

Haunted [Eddie Munson X Reader]

Title: Haunted.

Pairing: Eddie MunsonxReader {Acquaintances to lovers?}

Timeline: Set around S4 (no vecna)

Summary: Eddie sees his dream girl once day at the record store, but will he ever be able to find her again?

Warnings: Minor swearing, Eddie’s a little clueless and a little dismissive for a while. A bit of sexism and mentions of stereotypes. Brief mentions of drugs (it’s Eddie). ‘Un-named freak’ is called Ritchie in this story. Use of y/n. POV changes towards the end. Not Beta read nor spellchecked.

Word count: 3.4K

Eddie Munson had always considered himself particularly unlucky in life, wether it be the family he was born in to, the hand he'd be dealt in life or the way he was so often misunderstood by every outsider. But he'd never considered himself cursed, nor haunted; at least not until the 8th of March, 1896.

It was a Saturday, as boring an uneventful as they come, a little drizzly but mild and completely, mind numbingly boring. He'd done a deal earlier that morning and had decided to spend a little of his fresh earnings, hoping the record store would have something new to catch his eye. The Vault was an old independent record store downtown that had suffered greatly during the Starcourt Mall's rule, with RadioShack and Sam Goody's drawing in most of the younger crowds that left business scarce but the older generation, collectors and music fans that favoured minority categories or alternative sounds always found a home at the Vault, such as Eddie Munson. He'd been waiting a week for the Vault to receive a shipment of the new Metallica album Master of Puppets, though Rob the owner had assured him it would be in by Saturday, nearly five days late after the release. Eddie's hands were itching to get hold of a copy after being pumped by the debut album of King Diamond only a month before, but he was more than ready for something new.

He'd planned to meet Gareth at the store downtown and was waiting out by his van, stood leaning against the hood to smoke a joint when he spotted something entirely unheard of for Hawkins.

A girl, dressed in black high waisted pants that were ripped at the knees and a band shirt that looked eerily familiar to him. It was a Judas Priest 'Defenders of the faith' shirt, identifiable by the distinctive red and blue album logo on the front of the shirt, along with the white priest logo on her chest. She had a chain attached to her belt and chunky black boots just incase the shirt wasn't impactful enough.

She was beautiful, her hair flowing down her back with shaggy bangs and some shit around her eyes Eddie didn't understand that made them look sexy as hell. He was floored, frozen and almost drooling as he watched her walk across the sidewalk towards the record store. He cursed Gareth for being late, making a mental note to put his character in mortal peril during his next campaign and felt himself almost drifting across the road to get a chance to talk to her, but stopped himself at the last minute. He thought of how he could 'accidentally' bump into her, no doubt around the metal/ hard rock section of the record store and strike up a conversation but he couldn't think of a single way to make it seem authentic, or to talk about.

He swore out loud when he saw her walk out only a few minutes later with a smile on her face that he was certain would be etched into his memory forever. He was certain he'd never seen her before, a hot chick that was into metal in Hawkins? No way.

If he wasn't already head over heels for the mystery girl already, he was smitten as soon as she pulled away, the distinctive sounds of Metallica blasting through her speakers, the speedy trash metal echoing through her black car and out into the streets of Hawkins getting quieter and quieter as she drives away.

From that moment, he looked everywhere for her at school, around Hawkins but he could never spot her.

"Gotta shoot, got business," he says, standing suddenly and closing his metal 'lunch box' with a reasoning clunk. He hot tails it out of the school cafeteria and begins making his way across the lot, down his regular route towards the tree line when a noise stops him.

Master of Puppets.

He'd know that riff anywhere, he'd been trying to learn it for days now after finally getting a copy from Rob at the vault. His head shoots up like a meerkat on a hill, scrutinising the cars and the bodies littered about the lot to catch a glimpse of you but he's too late. He sees your black car pulling out the lot and onto the dirt road between the schools and drops his head in defeat. How could he have missed you? He'd spent days searching for you, keeping his eyes focused on the people around him, looking for any sign of you. He'd visited family video more times than he ever had in the past incase you'd decided to venture out there, even asking Buckey and Harrington in a round about way wether he'd seen 'the new chick in town'. He'd downplayed it obviously, he wasn't about to start competing with Harrington so he just mentioned you in passing, not mentioning your appearance at all. They'd seen nothing.

Then Henderson barrelled in one day about this new girl he'd been talking to, apparently she was super cool, asked him about his shirt, d&d and had completely outed herself as a nerd, quoting Star Wars back to him. Eddie had felt hope rise up in his chest but his interest quickly faded when Henderson described the girl wearing a pink and white dress with a white long sleeved shirt underneath, definitely not the girl Eddie had been looking for.

It was a game of cat and mouse, though Eddie was definitely losing the game.

Eddie was perplexed, distracted; even more so than usual. So when a figure appeared beside him at the end of Click's Friday morning history class, during which he'd spent the entire time staring off into the distance through the window and not writing a single note, not even pulling out a scrap of paper nor a pen, he jumped out of his skin at the sudden interaction.

"Hi, you're Eddie right?" The girl says a little shyly, drawing his attention away from the window, though he hardly looks up at the new customer.

"£20 for a half ounce bag, I don't sell single joints right now," he says absently and quietly, reaching down for his lunchbox, "Picnic bench out in the clearing at lunch."

"Oh, no, I wasn't," she begins to say, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know what, never mind."

He watches as the girl walks away, reaching for her backpack and shoving in the notebook she was holding. His eyes follow her as she pushes her backpack over one shoulder and walks out of the class without sparing him a final look.

He stews on the stranger interaction until lunch when he gets distracted by the guys arguing over the new girl Henderson had mentioned earlier than week.

"She came right out and quoted A New Hope like it was nothing, I'm telling you she's a secret nerd,"Jeff says, picking at his lunch.

"Like how?" Mike says, half paying attention.

"I asked her how she liked it in Hawkins and where she was from before and she said, and I quote, 'Mos Eisley space port but worse'".

"You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious," Dustin mimics, doing his best Obi-Wan impression, earning a snort from Gareth and a rare smile from Ritchie.

"I'm telling you, she's a total nerd," Jeff smirks, taking a bite of his cafeteria pizza.

"A hot nerd," Gareth adds, earning a nod from Jeff and Ritchie.

"You know she asked me about D&D, maybe we could invite her along for a taster, Eddie?" Dustin says, each of them turning to their leader who was barely paying attention.

"Eddie?" Gareth repeats, finally getting through to Eddie.

"Huh? Oh yeah whatever," Eddie says, clearly having not paid any attention to the conversation happening around him. The group look at each other with various levels of concerned expressions and confusion, wondering where the stood on inviting the new girl.

Dustin, never one to follow the rules, decides to step up and invite the new girl anyway, taking a giant leap that Eddie had technically agreed to it. He catches her between classes and invites her to tonight's campaign, telling her that she wouldn't be able to actually play until she was formally enrolled and created a character sheet but she could watch. To his relief, she agreed with a warm smile and eager nod, making his own smile beam across his face.

"Drama room after school, don't be late, he hates that!"

"Who's this?" Eddie says, when Dustin, Lucas and new girl walk in, spotting the intruder from his place in the throne. It was the same girl from class that had walked up to him without a reason.

"Y/n," Dustin answers casually, walking away and taking his regular seat. "You said she could sit in."

"Did I? Henderson?" Eddie's tone is clipped and his eyes pierce Dustin in a harsh way, not that he notices.

"It's okay, I can go," she says awkwardly from her spot, feeling the weight of rejection settling in. Everyone else had been so friendly but Eddie seemed to want nothing to do with her.

"Nah stay," Eddie says, finally looking in her direction and acknowledging her as a person. She smiles briefly and nods, though it's somewhat forced, still feeling painfully awkward to be where she clearly wasn't wanted. "You sitting down? Just don't interrupt and no questions for now."

"Ok, be straight with me," Eddie says at the end of the session, having told her to stick around afterwards until it was just the two of them. He'd caught sight of her multiple times during the game when she would cheer along with the guys, looked tense in the pets where he lingered for tension and had followed the brief rules he'd laid down dutifully, causing no issues at all. "What's a girl like you want to do with D&D?"

"Girl like me?" She challenges, her right eyebrow raised at the implications of his words.

"Yanno," he says, throwing the last of the equipment into his cardboard box he used to lug the stuff back and forth, "you don't seem the type to be into D&D." He thought of record store girl once again, she would definitely be into d&d, or at least he could convince her to be.

She catches him looking at her cream coloured sweater and blue jeans, his eyes clearly looking at her outfit as to make a point.

"So what, you think there's an angle here? A regular girl can't have an interest in something that isn't Madonna or nail polish? You really have such a low opinion of women?"

"No," he says quickly, turning around to face her as he senses her clipped tone, only to be met with a smirk tugging at the side of her lips and eyebrow still raised. She was goading him.

"Just saying, it's a little unheard of," he says, much more meekly now. He watches as she simply shrugs, offering nothing back.

"I like what I like and I'm not gonna change that for anyone," she says with another shrug, unknowingly earning a multitude of respect from Eddie as he watches her speak. She really was pretty. "Just because I don't think Tom Cruise is the hottest man on the planet and Bananarama didn't change my life doesn't mean I'm not normal, and because I like D&D and shitty horror films I'm not girly enough for society's dumb labels."

She watches as Eddie's smirk forms on his face slowly, his hand extending towards her, "welcome to Hellfire."

It's Wednesday afternoon and the bell has just rang signalling the end of the school day when Eddie waits out by his van, smoking a cigarette and waiting for y/n. They were drawing up her character sheet that night ready for her induction to the club during the next campaign, though she'd have to sit the current one out as they were already more than halfway through. Eddie had nipped back to his trailer to pick up a few of his manuals and spare sheets ready for them to draw up her character and she'd offered for them to go to her house after school to work on it.

Eddie discovered that she was actually pretty cool, as she's started sitting with them at lunch and opening up to the conversations around her. She'd spouted an incredible knowledge of Star Wars a couple of times and had even interjected when Jeff had misspoken about something from The fellowship of the ring, blowing Eddie's mind. He hadn't really looked at her until that night at Hellfire but ever since he'd found himself unable to look away. She was gorgeous, even in her little pink sweaters and fashionable dresses. Though he felt conflicted because as much as he liked y/n, he couldn't stop thinking about the girl at the record store, his dream woman.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, couldn't get away from Robin," she said with a smile, appearing in front of the van by Eddie's side.

"Sure you're good with us going to yours? Your mom won't like totally freak out?" Eddie says with a smirk, crushing his cigarette under his sneakers. The girl huffs out a laugh, ignoring Eddie's claims and pulls open the passenger door before climbing in, wordlessly telling him it would be fine.

"Dad? You home?" She shouts as they walk through the door to her home, having ignored Eddie's compromise of parking a little back from her house, knowing the usual protocol. She's ignored him entirely and told him to park on the drive before flashing him a smile and climbing out.

There's no reply from within the house and Eddie relaxes slightly, glad he wouldn't have to face a set of disgruntled parents that inevitably thought he was corrupting their sweet daughter, pink skirt and all.

"You want a drink?" She asks, guiding him into the kitchen. "Coke, beer, Mountain Dew? Oh crap I left my shit upstairs, you wanna do it there?"

Seeing Eddie's slightly startled look, she burst out laughing, realising what she'd said. "I meant the character sheets Munson."

"Oh yeah, yeah," he says, slightly tapping his foot and letting out a laugh that sounds inauthentic even to his own ears. He didn't know what was happening to him. Sure she was pretty, more than pretty but being alone with her like this made him almost painfully nervous.

"Gonna stand there all night?" She quips, noticing him stood exactly where she'd left him after making her way to the stairs. He suddenly catches on and follows her, nervously clutching his cold can of coke and ascending the plain white staircase, mentally cursing himself to get a grip.

He hadn't been in a girls bedroom before, he felt a little weird about it. Would it be cute and flowery? Stuffies and dolls littering the place? His room was a self-proclaimed disaster with more clutter than he could deal with, messy and a little dingy, but it did the job.

"Holy fuck," he says as he steps into the room, following you absently through the wooden doorway as your room comes into view.

Posters of various bands line the walls, ticket stubs and little trinkets dotted around, noticing guitar picks tacked onto the wall near the stubs. There's an honest to god ramskull on the wall above the bed and your vinyl and tape collection is seriously impressive. There's a Jaws poster one side and a similarly impressive book collection near a wooden desk near where you stood. There's a black acoustic guitar on a stand near your closet and an array of black shirts on a shelf nearby.

But then he spots it, a Judas Priest shirt thrown over the chair near the desk- the defenders of the faith shirt that he'd seen his dream woman wearing outside the vault. His eyes flick up to a Judas priest poster on the wall, a creased and slightly ratted up poster that illustrates the show as Madison Square Garden , June 18th 1984- the same one as what was on your shirt.

"You're hot girl?" Eddie turns around, mouth agape and wide eyes roaming across your body.

"What?" You say completely confused at his reaction, thinking nothing of it as you stepped over to your desk to gather the mock character sheets you'd been working on to show him.

"You were at the Vault last week? You got Master of Puppets?" He says frantically, stepping towards you.

"You've been stalking me?" You say curiously, watching him have a mini freak out.

"That was you? But you had ripped jeans and the boots," he rambles, unable to piece the parts together of his own mental puzzle.

Suddenly, you laugh and realise what's happening. You walk over to your closet and pull open the doors, noticing Eddie was watching your every move.

"These?" You ask, pulling out your black Doc Martens, the platform style you'd been wearing when you visited the record store.

"Holy shit, holy shit," Eddie says, staring at the boots that had been imprinted into his mind since he'd seen you last time as he falls back to sit on your bed. "But."

"The clothes?" You say with a smile, understanding why he was so confused. He nods gently, looking around the room still with a moderate sense of confusion, before his eyes fall to you again. You smile and take a seat beside him on the bed, trying not to confuse him more.

"When we moved from New York, mom thought it would be best if I tried to blend in, said that small towns like these don't accept people like us very much. Dad gets away with it because of his job but even my mom started fancying her self up a little more, putting on a show I guess so the small town folk wouldn't gossip," you explain. "So she went out and bought these monstrosities," you say gesturing to the cream coloured sweater you wore. "Only thing is that it's Indiana and it's hot as balls, which sucks when you can't show your arms."

"Wh-." Eddie begins to question but you already anticipate this and begin to pull off your sweater, thankful you were wearing a black tank top underneath.

Eddie's mouth falls open even wider, his eyes bulging as he looks upon your revealed skin, seeing the tattoos that litter your arms, intricate designs and art flowing across your body.

"That explain it?" You say with a gentle laugh. His face is a picture and you wished that you could have taken a photo to keep the memory forever. You reach up to your hair and pull away the clips holding in your bangs and pull down your scrunchie, throwing it across the room before tussling your hair to fall back in place.

It really was you, his dream girl.

"That day, in Click's class," he says, piecing more of the puzzle together.

"I wanted to ask you about Hellfire," you reply, looking up from under your lashes at him, now that his face had returned to normal and mouth no longer agape.

"I was a dick," he says guiltily, his brows pulling together slightly.

"Eh," you shrug, "you weren't to know."

"I judged you like an idiot, when all this time you've been right here under my nose."

He leans in slowly, and you follow his direction until your lips are touching. It’s soft and sweet and absolutely perfect as you feel his soft lips against yours, a playfulness and a shyness to the kiss.

It falls silent for a few moments after you pull apart with shy smiles, but it's not uncomfortable in any way.

"You really saw Priest in '84?" He asks, looking between the shirt and the poster on the wall. You laugh, throwing yourself on the bed to get comfy, pleased that he was feeling more comfortable now as he follows you down to lie beside you on the bed, character sheets forgotten beside you.

"Yeah at the Garden, you know they got banned for life after the show? It was crazy, everyone was ripping up the seats! Very metal."

“Very metal.”

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[wileys-russo]

okay but your last annoying sweet gf katie fic had me thinking because i just know she would lose her mind if you ignored her - her ego can’t take it and she’s also secretly clingy af

so here’s my idea/req:

she’s been getting on your nerves a little too much, being all cocky and high and mighty about getting a ball into the net during training that you should have stopped and nutmegging you in the process (bc cmon we all know that she’d eat that up), she’s talking about it non stop so you ignore her to get her to shut up since she’s too quick with her verbal comebacks

only it doesn’t work because she is instantly all over you, doing stuff for you (housewife katie gotta make a comeback) and trying to get you to pay attention to her instead

when it doesn’t work, she just grabs you and forces you into a cuddle until you’re laughing again

nutmeg II k.mccabe

"press in and cut her off!" you heard jen yell over to you as your girlfriend hurtled down the wing, easily passing kimmy and kyra with a few steps. you ran toward her, intending to tap it away from her but you misread her speed, the girl easily stopping and tapping the ball through your open legs as you braced.

you watched on hopelessy after the humiliating enough nutmeg as katies ball soared through the air and swooshed into the back of the net, just skimming the tips of sabs glove as you sighed heavily.

"want some cinnamon for with that nutmeg darlin?" your girlfriend smacked your bum with a grin as she sprinted past you to celebrate with her team, the whistle blowing to end the game as katies team won 5-4.

"that doesn't even make any sense!" you yelled after her with a scowl, the irishwoman only flipping you the bird and sticking her tongue out as you rolled your eyes, kicking at the ground.

this was not something she would let you forget easily.

"-oh and she strikes again!" katie cheered loudly, pumping her fists in the air as she tapped her shinpad through your open legs, nutmegging you as you all showered and changed after training.

"you're so fucking annoying." you muttered, shouldering past her and heading for the showers, the older girl having relentlessly teased you all day about your mistake this morning

at first it was light hearted and of course dating the jokster for years you knew how to take it. but now, almost five hours later, your patience had gone and every little comment, jab and smirk was only rubbing you more and more the wrong way.

you rolled your eyes as you re-entered the change rooms now dressed and ready to leave, her cheeky grin greeting you as you did so, making yet another comment about her goal purposefully loud to steph beside her as you packed up your things.

"better watch it katie, might be single by matchday." jen teased as katie tried to pull you into a hug and you shoved her off, grabbing your bag and your headphones, storming off without another word.

"dog house for you tonight it seems macca." "ah buzz off russo, she loves it."

it took an incredibly silent car ride home with you for katie to realise you may in fact not love it, pushing her away every chance she tried to lay her hand on your thigh, as she always did when driving.

your headphones covering your ears you stared out the window, arms crossed over your chest as you made a point to ignore her and every attempt at making conversation with you.

the moment she pulled in the driveway you were out of the car, popping the boot and grabbing your bag, marching to the front door and waiting impatiently with your headphones round your neck, katie unfortunately having the keys.

"after you gorgeous." the older girl opened the door, gesturing you inside with a charming smile as you refused to even look at her, striding inside as katie frowned, following you inside.

she winced as she heard the bedroom door slam, rubbing the back of her neck realising you were a lot more upset with her than she'd intended. so with a sigh she got to work, determined to make it up to you.

it was around an hour later when the bedroom door opened and you didn't even flinch, eyes trained to the tv as katie shuffled inside. "baby girl?" she tried calling out, huffing when you continued to ignore her.

"i made dinner, your favourite!" she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, slight hope spiking as you got up from the bed. her face fell when she tried to kiss you and you walked right past her, heading downstairs without a word.

"ah! allow me." she was quick to pull out your chair for you, pushing it in and hurrying into the kitchen, grabbing your plate. "made with love, so much love." katie smiled brightly, placing it down in front of you and trying to peck your lips as your head turned and her kiss fell to your cheek instead.

you didn't give her the satisfaction as you began to eat, not even waiting for her to sit down with her own plate as you normally would. "baby please, i'm sorry for the teasin." katie apologised as she sat across from you, your eyes trained down at your food.

"you did good in the gym babe, hit a new pb right?" silence. "your bum looked well peachy in the new training kit." nothing. "that goal you scored where you did the little flick and sweep around wally was glorious!" crickets.

"oi stop ignorin me!" the irishwoman whined, kicking you gently as you continued to blank her, determined to teach her a lesson. you finished your food in record time, standing to your feet and moving toward the sink as katie hurried after you.

"don't you dare! i'll do it gorgeous." she kissed your cheek and maneuvered you away, running the water to wash up the dishes as you left her to it, moving into the living room and settling into the sofa trying to find something to watch.

you were aware of katies movements around the house but you paid her no mind, engrossed in the latest episode of the kardashians, laughing to yourself as your girlfriend would pause to smile at the sound before returning to what she was doing.

awhile later she sat herself carefully down on the sofa, choosing to give you some space as you felt her eyes burn into the side of your head.

"so i did your washin and i put away all the clean clothes from yesterday, i stripped and remade the bed and sprayed that fabric softner scented shit you bought on the sheets, i cooked dinner and cleaned up afterwards." she listed off with her fingers, your eyes still trained to the tv as you didn't move a muscle.

"i packed your bag already for the trip away to villa on friday, i vacuumed the bedroom and i'll clean the bathroom after we shower tomorrow morning." katie continued, shuffling a little closer and laying her body down so her head laid in your lap.

"what else has a girl gotta do to get back in her missus's good books? help me out here babe i'm dyin!" katie groaned, staring up at you helplessly as you fought the urge to look at her, knowing the minute you did you'd crack and you wanted to carry this on for as long as possible.

"angel? love? baby girl? gorgeous? my everything? future mrs mccabe? superstar? peachy bum?" katie rattled off nickname after nickname, poking and prodding at your face as you swatted her hands away, jaw clenching as you held back a smile.

"right! thats it i've had enough of this then." you squealed as just as suddenly as you'd been sat comfortably on the couch you were thrown over the taller girls shoulder. though still not wanting to give her the satisfaction you crossed your arms and remained silent as she flicked off the lights and the tv, carrying you upstairs to the bedroom.

"look at me!" katie threw you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you as you looked to the ceiling. "i love ya, i love ya, i love ya, i love ya-" the irishwoman attacked your face with her lips, kissing over every inch of skin as your lips couldn't help but curl into a smile.

"alright fine! get off me mccabe." you gave in, the brunettes face lighting up at the sound of your voice. "i love ya, i love ya, i love ya-" she continued to pepper your face with soft kisses, hands tangling in your hair as eventually her lips moved to meet yours.

"did you learn your lesson?" you raised an eyebrow as the two of you lay tangled up together beneath the duvet, katies strong arms wrapped around you as her chin rested on your shoulder and your fingers intertwined with hers as they lay on your stomach.

"i learned that next time i win i'll be sure to tease you behind your back and not to your face. what a sore loser!" "katie!"

[roosterbruiser]

I am thinking about Jake being uncomfy w touch from most people (and therefore being a little unknowingly touch starved) but doing small things to get your touch: leaning his head towards you so you play with his hair, gently touching your leg to get your attention, wrapping your ankles together under the table.

And the reader maybe not 100% picking up on it at first until he comes out and says it? Okay ily thanks for listening 🫶🏻🫶🏻

you've noticed it here and there--nothing outwardly in-your-face that screams help me! I'm touch-starved! no, it's much smaller than that. so much smaller that you don't realize it on your own at all.

like when you're at the grocery store and Jake comes up behind you, peppering your throat with kisses in the produce aisle as the sprinklers lightly wet the goosed skin of your forearms. like when he stands with his chest pressed against your back, arms caging you in, as he holds onto the cart and pushes as you do.

"looked heavy," he always insists softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

or when you're watching a movie at home, your feet resting on the coffee table beside his. he's always tucked up right beside you, his arm on the back of the touch behind your head. sometimes, during a more boring part, he'll gently drag his fingers through your hair and watch your face for a few moments. and when you catch him, he always squeezes your thigh, smiles coyly, and shrugs his way through a half-hearted apology.

"you're much more interesting than Bridget Jones," he'll say.

when you go to The Hard Deck with him, he's always hands-on. palm resting on your knee as you sit at the bar, chin on your shoulder while he waits for his turn in pool, body molded around yours as he teaches you how to shoot darts, lips against your cheek and fingers wrapped around your wrist when you excuse yourself to head to the restroom.

"don't be too long," he always teases, laughing when you roll your eyes.

right now, under the blue sky and before the dying fire pit in Maverick's backyard, you're beside Javy. the two of you are watching Jake and Rooster try and help Amelia do her first ever cartwheel in the grass, paper plates balanced on your knees.

"you're special," Javy says with a broad grin, waggling his eyebrows at you as you watch your boyfriend spot Amelia. "he's so whipped."

"oh, is that what you've decided?" you ask with a small smile, glancing at him.

"no, really," Javy insists. "that man's all over you."

you shift to look at Javy with a perched brow.

"yeah, that's the thing about being in love," you tease. "anyway, isn't he all over everyone?"

when Javy barks out a laugh, you bite your lip.

"sweetheart, he's not all over anyone any time--at all." when you look at him with an expression of disbelief covering your features, he nods to Jake. "we've been friends since the academy. I think he's hugged me...once? and when he saved Rooster's life? they shook hands. shook hands!"

with a peculiar sour taste on your tongue, you glance back at your boyfriend. and then it's suddenly clear as day--he doesn't really touch anyone but you. even now, as he's helping Amelia on the grass, his hands are merely hovering her shoulders. he's standing several paces away from Rooster.

"racking your brain?" Javy asks, arms crossed. "don't waste your time. I'm right!"

sticking your tongue out at Javy, you set your plat on the grass and stand up, starting for your boyfriend.

he notices you immediately--like he always does when you head in his direction. he's grinning immediately, one that eats all his features until he's just dimples and lips and teeth, hands resting on his hips.

Rooster, who's watching slyly, starts to casually hum the bridal march. Jake doesn't stop him.

"hey," you say softly as you approach. "get her into the Olympics yet?"

"almost," Jake sighs, immediately wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you against him. "she's just gotta believe in herself!"

Amelia, with her face red and her disposition less than sunny, huffs at Jake.

"I'm trying!"

Jake laughs, kissing the top of your head, resting his hands on your hips as he connects your bodies. you melt into him--just like he likes.

it feel so very natural to be up against him, being held tight under the dying sky. no wonder you hadn't exactly noticed that he isn't like this with everyone else--when he holds you, it just feels like something that's in his nature.

when you glance back over at Javy, he has his arms crossed over his chest. he's grinning from ear to ear, rapidly doing a whip motion in the air.

[ericsprincess]

checkmate

You catch your brother's annoying best friend doing something in your room.

~~~

“....oh, and by the way, Sunwoo is coming over tonight to watch a movie,” 

You stop mid-folding a t-shirt and look at your brother in disbelief. He can’t be for real, you think. This is like the third time just this week. 

“This is like the third time just this week,” you frown at your brother that’s standing in the doorway to your bedroom. “Doesn’t he have his own place and his own roommates to annoy?” 

“Yeah, but his roommates are working on some school project, so he doesn’t want to distract and annoy them much, until they finish it,” your brother shrugs. 

“So, he’s just coming here all the time to annoy us?” you groan and throw the semi-folded t-shirt on the pile. 

“Well, he’s not annoying me. Come on, sis, he’s not that bad. He really likes you actually, you’re just so mean to him all the time,” pleads your brother. 

“Are we talking about the same Sunwoo?” you ask. “He literally just asks me the most dumb questions all the time and does things to spite me.” 

“Yeah but that’s how Sunwoo shows his affection,” your brother laughs. 

“By the greasiest overacted flirting?”

“Basically. If you saw beyond his overdone fuckboy persona you would see he’s actually really nice. He’s just playing it up in front of you, because he wants your reaction and attention,” smiles your brother. He seems to find this whole situation amusing, and this annoys you even more. 

“I find it really hard to believe it,” you frown. “But okay, he can come, but it’s your responsibility to keep him on the leash, understood?” 

“Sure thing, sis,” he shoots you finger guns. “Gotta run to school, see ya!”

“Bye..” you sigh. You really, really love your brother, but when you agreed for him to move into your spare bedroom to save up on his university costs, this is not how you imagined it. You did not expect to sign up for a 2 in 1 package, that is your brother and his annoying raccoon of a best friend, that is now the bane of your existence. The worst thing is, that Sunwoo is not even doing anything actually bad, he’s just being annoying and you never know how to react to his teasing. 

You hold up one last sock, and it’s without the pair. Seems like a deja vu, that something is missing. Great, lately it seems that the laundry machine is taking way too many sacrifices.

~~~

This is already a long day and it seems that it will never end. You left for work and now you’re sitting there, mindlessly typing on your computer and pretending to work. You want to go home so badly, but you’re not even looking forward to that much now, that you’ll have a visitor. 

I’ll just get food and stay in my bedroom, you think. But usually, that doesn’t deter Sunwoo from going to bother you under the pretense of “saying hi”. He’d just knock once and open the door without waiting for a reply, as if everything belonged to him. Maybe I should just lock the door.

DING! Your thoughts get interrupted by your phone announcing you just got a message. DING DING!

bro

>hey sis

>btw

>i need to stay late in school because something came up

>so i just told sunwoo the door code and he’ll let himself in

>just so that you’re not surprised he’s already there

>gotta go, love you byeee

>also dont kill him pls lol

you

>oh for fuck’s sake

You groan. This can’t be real. 

~~~

Ugh, finally home. You angrily punch the door code and wait for the door to unlock. Immediately you kick off your shoes, fling a laptop bag away and mentally brace for greeting the awaited intruder that should be already there. 

You march into the living room, already pre-pissed off but - there is no one there. No one laying on the couch in sneakers, spilling crumbs of your snacks between the seats. No one playing the console, yelling at the game. No one drinking a beer, putting it on the table without a coaster and loudly burping. Suspicious.

Maybe he bailed, you think and your mood is already getting brighter. So you just decide to go to your room to chill. You open the door and - 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shriek. You’re standing in the doorway, stunned, looking at Sunwoo, who’s frozen like a deer in the headlights. As he should be, since he’s absolutely not supposed to be in your room, the one single place in your apartment he’s banished from. 

And what he’s totally absolutely not supposed to be, is standing over your opened laundry hamper, with half of its content thrown outside of it. 

“N-nothing,” he stutters and awkwardly steps away from the little mess of clothes. Interesting. This is the first time you’ve seen Sunwoo without his confidence and cockiness. His face is getting red and he’s looking genuinely nervous. 

“Nothing my ass. What are you doing in my room?” you push. 

“Nothing, really, I was not doing anything,” he anxiously shakes his head and takes a step back. You suddenly catch a glimpse of something familiar. 

“What’s in your hand?” you ask, but before he can even try denying having anything, you step forward and snatch the item he’s squeezing in his sweaty palm. You immediately recognize it. 

“Kim Sunwoo.” you growl threateningly. 

“Y-yes?” 

“Kim Sunwoo. So not only you impose all the time, not only you steal my food and make a mess. You even dare to go to my room? And steal my fucking panties?? AND THEN LIE ABOUT IT?” you’re furious. 

“I-i am really sorry, Y/N, please don’t kill me! Or-, or, please don’t tell Y/B/N about it,” he pleads, with big eyes and face red from embarrassment. This is not how you usually see him and you’re finding out that you’re quite liking it. He’s actually kinda cute when he looks all helpless and caught off guard. Your anger is quickly getting replaced by mischief and you decide in a split second that you’re going to have fun with it. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” you raise your eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I tell my brother that I caught his best friend stealing my panties? What are you even stealing them for?” You have a hunch, but it will be more fun to pry this out of him. 

“I…I just…I just wanted them..” he takes a step back. You take one step forward. 

“Why?” 

“Because…” Sunwoo looks like all he wants is for the ground to open and to swallow him whole so he doesn't have to be confronted. “...because they smell of you..” he whispers. He has nowhere to step back to, his back is touching your dresser.  

You’re so close to him your chest is barely touching him. You can feel his fast breathing and heart pounding. He’s much taller than you, but you are the one in charge in this situation and you’re almost drunk off the feeling. Especially, since it’s Kim Sunwoo, the bane of your existence, for the past few months. 

“So you’re really a pervert, aren’t you?” 

“N-no I swear I’m not!” he rushes to deny, but you can just somehow tell it’s not quite like that.

“I can feel your boner. Kim Sunwoo, you even like this, don’t you? Do you find it hot that you’ve been busted?” you accuse him. “Oh geez, my brother will be really devastated to hear that his best friend not only is a pervert, but also gets off on it.”

“Y/N, please, don’t tell him, I- I will do whatever you want! I will behave from now on, I swear!” he pleads. “I’ll return all of the other ones too, I promise!” 

“Other ones?” you’re in disbelief. You probably shouldn’t feel this way, but you’re finding it really hot that this pest which kept annoying you for a long time, is secretly so attracted to you that he resolved to steal your panties to sniff and masturbate to. It’s so disgusting and yet you’re getting wet at the mere mental image of Sunwoo holding your used panties to his face while jerking off frantically. 

“So here’s the deal,” you start. “In the exchange for my silence, you’ll do whatever I want for three months, okay?” 

“Okay, okay, deal, thank you,” he nods desperately. He’s looking all pathetic, with a red face, almost watering eyes and with a boner tenting his pants. You’re so wet and it gives you the worst idea.

“We can start now,” you step away from him and lie down on your bed, bending your legs at the knees, feet at the edge of the bed, your skirt falling back, exposing your legs and underwear. 

Sunwoo looks frozen.

“Come here,” you scoff and he snaps out of it and rushes to you. He kneels on the ground in front of your bed and hesitantly reaches out, but it’s like he’s not actually sure if he can touch you. 

You roll your eyes and pull off your panties yourself. “What are you waiting for? A written invitation?” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he hurries with an apology and puts his face between your legs immediately. He starts eating you out eagerly, whispering “Thank you, thank you”. 

He’s surprisingly not bad at it. He doesn’t seem to be too experienced, but what he lacks in experience, makes up for in enthusiasm. It’s almost like he’s making out with your pussy. 

He’s slowly licking over your folds, gently sucking on your clit, his tongue is hot, wet and feels so good. He’s slowly building up the intensity and it feels so good, you can’t help but moan a little, even though you’re really trying not to. 

Sunwoo looks like he’s enjoying himself too, with one of his hands rubbing over his clothed cock, and you have half a mind to mock him for it, if only making a coherent sentence wouldn't be so difficult right now. 

You’re getting close, with his tongue flicking over your clit, but you decide you don’t want to come like that. You grab him by his hair and tear his head away from your pussy. He whines about it and makes an attempt to get back to licking you, but you’re holding him too firmly. He must be in pain, but he doesn’t seem to care about that. 

“Come up and fuck me, before I kick you out,” you let his hair go. He seems surprised, but not wanting to anger you further, he quickly takes off his pants and underwear, while you move up higher on the bed. He joins you on the bed and you’re not wasting time, grabbing his hard cock and pulling him close to you. He whimpers in pain, but complies immediately and pushes inside your pussy. He’s hovering on top of you and it seems like he’s not daring to move yet. Actually, his face is getting closer and all of the alarms in your head start ringing. 

Oh shit, you wonder, he wants to kiss me. Your hand quickly flies up and you grab him by his jaw to stop him. You blindly pat with your other hand on the bed quickly, until you find what you’re looking for - your discarded panties. You ball them up and stuff them into his mouth. 

“Don’t get stupid ideas, Sunwoo,” you say. “If you want more of the taste, this is the only thing you’re going to get now.” you warn him and to get him to move you slightly kick him with your heel. 

He gets the hint and starts fucking you immediately, already with a fast tempo. It’s clear neither of you is going to last long. But you have to admit he feels really good. It’s just a passing thought, as you are staring at his blushed face, with your panties stuffed into his mouth and his eyes glossy, but you already know you’re going to make the most out of this “deal”. The thought of having Sunwoo as your plaything for three months is so arousing, that it’s what gets you to come, while he’s fucking into you.

Your squirming and moaning is so strong, you almost throw him off yourself, but he has enough presence of mind to hold you tightly, while he fucks into you fast and hard. Not before long he’s cumming into you, eyes close and whimpering. You can feel his cock pulsate in you and you squeeze him closer to you with your legs, so you can feel it even better. 

He spits out the panties and snuggles a little into your neck as he’s catching his breath and you graciously give him a few seconds of this before you’re kicking him off you. 

You’re both a mess - half-undressed, sweaty and disheveled. You throw him his clothes. “Put it back on.” He does and just awkwardly stands, obviously not sure what to do now. 

“We’re done here…for now. You should go to the living room to wait for my brother and I really hope I won’t see or hear you anymore tonight, so you better behave. And if I catch you in my room again, the deal is off and I’m telling everything, understood?” you threaten. 

He nods and hesitantly goes to leave. He’s actually really cute, when he’s all obedient, you wonder. It melts your heart a tiny bit. You probably shouldn’t like it so much. 

“Hey Sunwoo?” you call after him. He turns back. 

“Y-Yes?” 

“You forgot something,” you smirk and throw your panties at him. He catches them and looks at you, confused. 

“Put them into good use, until I see you next time, would you?” 

He looks completely embarrassed, but nonetheless he stuffs the panties into his pocket and literally runs out of your room, while you laugh at him. 

Best deal of my life, you think and head to the shower. 

[estrellami-1]

More Time (Please)

“Make him pay.”

Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “No,” he murmurs. “Please-”

He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for. That Eddie will say something else, maybe; that happens sometimes, right? People say things more than once. Surely this isn’t it, surely this isn’t the last time they’ll speak to each other—

Eddie’s eyes are widening, and Steve knows he feels the telltale burn of a soulmark, shearing the connection.

“Steve,” Robin calls, jogging back to tug on his arm. “We’ve gotta go, c’mon, it’s time.”

Numb, he lets himself be pulled away.

She glances at him, then back at Eddie a few times. “What was that about?”

He swallows the sob that wants to come out. “Our soulmarks.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, Steve,” she murmurs.

He glances down at it. Still red. He knows it’s probably going to be the bats. He wishes any number of things, but is reminded of the story his grandma used to tell him. “There’s nothing we can do to change it,” he whispers along with the voice in his head, the same cadence as his grandma.

“Maybe,” she tries. “Maybe- you could go back now, just… yell something at him?”

“Don’t you think the soulmark would know?” He asks sadly. “You can’t cheat the system, Robs, not with this. Those are the last words I’ll ever hear him say.”

“I can’t lose you, Steve,” she whispers, and suddenly his eyes are filled with tears, and he attacks her in a hug, pulling her in until she squeaks.

“I love you, Robin,” he whispers.

“I love you. So much.”

“So much,” he agrees.

Up ahead, Nancy’s waiting on them. “Guys,” she calls. “We have to go. I know you’re scared, I am too, but we don’t have long.”

Steve takes a deep breath. “You’re right,” he agrees, and marches on, holding Robin’s hand tightly in his.

Neither of them try to let go until they have to.

Steve gets slammed against the wall by some vines, and they wind around him until he feels like he understands what asthma feels like, and then beyond that, cracking his ribs and bruising his throat, more, more, more, until suddenly they stop, release him, and he falls onto the wooden floor, scraping his hands and knees and earning a couple of splinters.

He hacks out a cough, stumbles back onto his feet, and follows Nancy and Robin into the belly of the beast.

They find Vecna right where they think they will and attack, and Steve thinks he’s screaming but the rushing of blood in his ears is louder than anything else, and he can’t hear himself, can’t check if he is, just keeps going, does what he can to help weaken Vecna, to help destroy him.

It’s over suddenly, Vecna dead, body riddled with bullets, and Steve glances down at his soulmark, hoping against all hope that it’s still red.

His heart drops through the floor when he sees grey instead.

He tears out of the house, sprints the entire way back, yelling for Eddie, but when he gets there he sees he really is too late.

Dustin’s sitting by his side, bottom lip quivering, tears streaming down his face, and Steve collapses next to him, flutters his hands around Eddie.

Ignoring the blood and gore, he looks almost peaceful, and Steve suddenly knows this is how he would look fifty years from then, dying from old age instead, in a world where their soulmarks gave them more time.

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[greatstormcat]

Burn, Baby, Burn

This is a rage post feel free to ignore it, its pretty much just crack. Serious writing will now resume, but seriously, screw Activision.

It’s a sunny, lazy afternoon at the Taskforce’s barracks, the news plays quietly on the television while the team and their compatriots occupy themselves with various tasks around the rec room and kitchenette. They’ve worked long and hard, risked their lives many times and saved the known world with little thanks. A little R&R is the least they deserve.

The door bursts open and Laswell, looking harassed and worried, marches in, shutting off a phone call with a terse goodbye. She scans the room quickly and strides over to Price who sits in his armchair reading something on his tablet, his glasses perched on his nose.

“What now, Kate?” he asks her simply, an unamused tone to his deep voice at the interruption to their down time.

“I know, John, it’s important though,” she huffs, hands on her hips. “KorTac have just taken the Activision-Blizzard building hostage and are threatening to blow it up,” she explains. Price glances at the tv over his tablet, then back up at her, before going back to reading s though totall unaffected by what she has just said.

“I know,” he rumbles. “It’s all over the news.” A moment of silence passes as Laswell waits for more, but he says nothing else and doesn't move.

“Right… so we need you to,” she begins but he cuts her off holding up one hand.

“Not this time, Kate,” he says firmly. “I’ve got this injury.” He extends his trigger finger, displaying the Hello Kitty plaster wrapped around his digit. “Can’t help you.” 

Laswell’s eyes go wide at his response, her mouth agape for a moment. She turns to face Ghost and Soap who sit at the dining table, a bottle of black nail varnish and box of tissues between the two men. She marches over and sees Soap painstakingly painting Ghost’s nails, cursing as the wet polish seeps into the cuticle.

“Lieutenant , Sergeant…” she begins with a hopeful smile.

“Cannae help until this is dry,” Soap chimes in without even looking up from his task, hunched over slightly as he works with the same level of attention he'd give to diffusing a bomb. Laswell turns a beseeching look to Ghost, but his eyes are fixed on Soap as the other man concentrates.

“Ghost, surely you of all people know this is serious?” she begs him. Soap looks up and meets Ghost’s eyes, raising a single eyebrow.

“Sorry, Laswell,” Ghost says from under his mask, turning his eyes on her momentarily. “Gotta let Johnny finish or there’ll be hell to pay later.”

Laswell feels the urge to scream as she chews her lip in frustration. Next to her on the sofa, Gaz lies on his back playing Pokémon Scarlet on his Switch, his long legs propped up on the back of the cushions. Before she can even form the question he shuffles his shoulders deeper into the seat and shoots her A Look.

“Don’t bother wasting your breath,” he mumbles darkly, frowning as the Eevee he is trying to catch breaks out for the third time. “Get in the arsing ball,” he hisses, brow pinched in frustration and sparing her no more thought.

“Oh come on!” Kate exclaims in frustration, throwing her hands up at the lack of action from anyone.

“Sorry ma’am,” Alex says firmly, drawing her attention to him. He sits behind Farrah, his thick fingers working deftly as he braids her long, dark hair. “I’d normally jump at it, as you know,” he continues, his fingers never ceasing in their work. “But since we branded Farah’s people as terrorists I’ve been trying to mend our… relationship,” he says, his mustache quirking slightly with his crooked smile. “Unfortunately, my hands are tied,” he says.

“You’re a good man, Alex,” Farah tells him, her voice low and tender, making his cheeks colour slightly and he clears his throat. Farah shrugs her shoulders at Laswell with a smile

On the TV, the news shows a huge man with a sniper hood swinging from a rope outside the glass and steel building, a molotov cocktail burning in his gloved hand.

“For fucks’ sake,” Kate mutters harshly, and catches a movement by the still open door behind Price. Quickly looking up, Nik walks in and sees her expression, and backs out of the door again mumbling something about checking the helicopter still has blades on it.

In desperation Laswell stomps towards the kitchenette, a sweet smell wafting from it that makes her realise she hasn't had anything other than cheap coffee and cheaper cigarettes all day. Her stomach growls as she approaches Alejandro and Rudy, stood side by side at the small sink as they wash-up mixing bowls and other items.

“Colonel, surely I can rely on you to help with this?” she says, trying to ignore they way her mouth waters at the smell coming from the oven. 

“I understand your frustration, Kate,” Alejandro consoles her, looking over his shoulder as he scrubs the wood spoon in his hand before passing it to Rudy for it to be dried. “But if I let this cake burn, or don’t clear up after myself, mi abuelita would never forgive me.” “It’s true,” Rudy nods, “he’d never hear the end of it, nor me.” Laswell’s shoulders slump in defeat, and she peers into the window of the oven.

“Wait, is that tres leches cake?” she asks with sudden enthusiasm.

Price chuckles to himself as Laswell gives in, and looks at the news on the TV screen, the building now fully on fire. He leans forward and uses his bandaged finger to press the button on the remote to switch it off.

“Fuck ‘em,” he mumbles, looking across at Gaz with pride.

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

Taglist lovelies:

@tizylish @lilliumrorum @imkumichan @thriving-n-jiving @iloveslasher @itsyogirlranii @xxladysquishyxx @murder-hobo @aulescev @tiredmetalenthusiast @haurasha @evolutionarry @lunamoonbby @cryingpages @yawning-grave81 @rantingraquel @waves-against-a-cliff @letmelickyoureyeballs@thatonepupkai @anubisisthebomb @beebeechaos @ladyxtiger @ashy-kit @cassiecasluciluce @mandythemint @ihatethinkingofnames10 @torchbearerkyle @jinxxangel13 @cringeycookies @argella1300 @ttsbaby01 @kessi-21 @supernaturalstilinski @thesinsoflust @lovifie @hayleybarnesx @katzykat @airyonna15 @hxnneydew @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @callsign-pyro @neoarchipelago @kaoyamamegami @dij-ology @blush-haze @live-love-be-unique @vexshira

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Come Out, Come Out

Warnings: noncon and violent elements. Warnings are not exhaustive. Please curate your reading accordingly.

Summary: you get an unwelcome visitor.

Based on this anon ask:

That reblog about Seb's hair: a dark simp character with a hair pulling kink? He purposefully keeps it long because he loves when you pull on it. Even if you're physically fighting him to get away, he'll be disappointed if you don't pull. About this post.

As always, please, please, please, send me your thoughts and feedback, horny and otherwise! Love you all so much 💗

You keep a hand over your mouth, your other arm wrapped around your knees as you huddle down in the cramped space. You listen to the footsteps only a few rooms over. The slow, deliberate pace taunting you. Searching, searching, searching, until you don’t hear any at all.

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice startles you, closer than you could’ve expected, “I know you’re here.”

He lets his steps make noise again. The light on the other side of the door flicks on. You cower as you stare at the yellow line slipping in from beneath the wood.

His soles scuff on the hardwood as he makes a patient progress around the room. The subtle shift of something being lifted sets your skin alight. You swallow down a gulp as you quiver in the dark closet. He clucks loudly and hums.

“I’m just checking in, like Steve told me to,” he says, “making sure you’re okay. How can I calm his worries… if you won’t show yourself?”

His irritation hangs in the last syllable. He sighs as he waits for you to wilt. Wait for you to give in and show yourself. But you can’t. You won’t. You shouldn't have let him know you’re there at all.

“You should’ve let me in when I told you to,” Bucky snarls, “now I gotta explain the tripped alarm to the blonde bozo.”

You push your knuckle into your mouth and bite down. Why can’t he leave you alone? Please, just go away.

“Tell you what, sugarplum, I’ll count to ten and if you come out before then, I won’t be mad.”

The threat is plain. It’s too late for all that. He’s already angry. You know better than to fall for it. It doesn’t matter if you come out now or later. He’s here and he didn’t come without a mission.

He laughs and claps his hands, “you’re really going to make me count?”

You curl your arm around your head as you slouch your shoulders. You keep your palm cupped around your mouth and steady your shallow breaths. Please, please, please.

“One,” he begins and punctuates it with a step, “two,” another, “three–” a third and his soles squeak as he turns sharply, the legs of a chair scraping on the floor. “Ah, of course, sugarplum, you’re too clever for that trick, aren't you?”

You push your lips together as your nose tingles. A tear spills out and rolls down your cheek, a salty line crisp along your skin. You close your eyes and make yourself as small as you can.

“Four,” he says louder than before, “five,” his tone takes on a mean lilt, “six!” A bang as the table jolts against the floor, “seven!” A chair sent into the wall to clatter back with a crack, “eight… doll, you’re playing a dangerous fucking game with me.”

Your throat clenches painfully and your eyes burn. Your horror streams down and pools along the bend of your fingers, curved around your mouth to hold in your fear.

“Nine,” his voice is shaky with rage as his march continues across the floor.

He laughs again. The air grows stolid as your ears prick and you listen. You don’t hear him. Nothing. Not a sound.

The knob wiggles and suddenly the door wigs outward. Yellow lights pours over you, quickly blocked out by his black silhouette. You squeak and hug your legs tight as you shake your head in helpless denial.

“Ten,” he announces in victory, “sugarplum,” he squats down before you as you keep your eyelids shut. A thin shield from his invasion. “I could hear your heart beat from the fucking gate.”

You wince as his metal fingers brush over your hair. He tuts and grabs a fistful, dragging you up as he stands. You exclaim as you hang from his grasp, on tiptoes as you brace your head and try to ease the fire in your scalp. Your eyes flick open and meet the deep valleys where his should be.

“Please,” you beg, “please, I was only scared–”

“Of me? Sugarplum, you know me.”

You whimper and grasp his wrist as you snivel, “you’re hurting me–”

“You made me,” he rasps, “hiding like a bad girl.” He backs out, bringing you with him into the light as he clicks his tongue again. “What am I gonna tell Steve, huh? That his best gal was so mean to his best pal? You know he doesn’t like it when you act out.” He caresses your cheek with his other hand, his real hand. “He cares so much about you, sugarplum, he sent me all the way here to make sure you’re behaving.”

You pout as you peer up into his bottomless irises, so deep and blue. His hair is floppy as it falls apart in the middle. He looks as if he’s only just woke up. Even in only a hoodie and jeans, he makes a formidable figure.

“I am–”

“Shhhh,” he puts his thumb and index around your chin, “don’t lie. I’ll have to tell him about that too if you do.”

You press your other hand to his chest, feeling the firm muscle through the thick layer of his sweater. He purrs at your touch and looks down, poking his tongue out as he takes in your desperate attempt at resistance. He smirks and his eyes meet yours again, a growl creeping up his throat.

“Don’t be too sad, doll, I like playing with you,” he purrs as he wrenches you away and spins you to face the table, “I love it when a little kitten shows their claws.”

His hand slips down from your hair to the nape of your neck. You plant your palms against the table, arms shaking as he puts his strength into you. His metal grip pinches cruelly as his other hand crawls lightly along the hem of your nightgown, toying with the little ruffle there.

“Did he pick this? Or did you?” He leans forward to exhale across your crown.

You whimper as you fight to keep yourself standing. He shoves you and your arms collapse. You land on your elbows and cry out again.

“You don’t gotta say it, we both know he tells you what to wear and you do it like the pretty little doll you are, huh.”

He keeps you bent and slaps your ass, groping you through the thin cotton, his thumb rubbing the print on the outside, “strawberries, mmm, so sweet.”

He pushes the fabric up slowly and slides his boot between your bare feet. He tickles along the curve of your ass and purrs. Bumps rise on your naked skin as he shoves you down further, crushing your arms beneath you until your face is against the polished wood.

His touch follows along the shape of your ass to your cunt. You quiver and clench as he rubs along your folds. Your feet arch as you struggle to keep your toes on the floor. He flutters his fingertips further and delves between your lips, rolling over your bud firmly.

You murmur and reach an arm across the table. You curl your nails against the wood and whine as you turn your head, weeping freely as you kick a foot against his calf. He squeezes your neck until you still, another sob heaving from your chest.

“Please,” you claw at the table as you beg, “please, let me go–”

He snickers and ignores your pathetic pleas. He plays with your clit, slides two fingers around it and squeezes. As the pressure thrums in your bud, he dips back and brings his roughened fingertips against the pinpoint of nerves. You moan as his touch sends a current of electricity coursing through you.

You slap the table, your palm squeaking across the polish. You try to drag yourself higher, try to free yourself from him, but the vice of his fingers only tightens around your neck. You gurgle and gulp frantically as his irritation shows in the motion of his fingers.

“Be sweet for me, sugarplum,” he sneers as he pokes along your entrance, “hmm, I know you can be.”

He dips two fingers into you, stretching you to his knuckles. You walls clench him as you mewl. He wiggles his hand, keeping his fingers buried deep inside you. Your breath hitches and a shaky moan escapes your lungs.

“Mm, feels like ole cap’s been taking it easy on you,” he slides his fingers back slowly, hovering them just along your entrance as he lines up a third.

He pushes against your cunt, inch by inch he stretches you. You throw your arm back blindly, your fingers dancing fruitlessly along your ass as you try to stop him. You lift your head as far as you can as he works his fingers deeper. You arch your back as your thighs flex and quake.

He kicks your feet further apart and rams in to his knuckles. You yelp and drop your head, retracting your hand to bring a fist against the tabletop. He tilts his hand, rocking harshly against you as he jerks your body with each thrust.

“Look at that pussy. Clinging to me… desperate for me,” he gloats, “fuck, he’s barely gone a week and you’re tight as fuck.”

You sniffle and cover your face. You bend your arm over your head and rest your hand on his metal one, another pathetic attempt to push him away.

You can hear it. Hear how your body reacts without your permission. How he steals what he wants from you.

He drags his fingers out of you, smearing the betrayal up your ass and giving a mean pinch. He rescinds his touch, shifting behind you, boots set against your feet.

He bends his knees and you feel the naked graze of his tip again you. A new chill ripples up your spine. You grit your teeth as he rubs up and down your cunt, tapping along your entrance as if to mock your futility.

He centres himself and prods at you. Leaning in only to relent, basking in your weak whimpers and hollow whines. He frames his dick with his fingers and pushes into you. You can't help but sob louder as he invades you.

You gnash your teeth as he rocks himself deeper and deeper. You groan and once more claw at his hand against your neck. He slips it away to gather the fabric of your nightgown behind your waist. Twisting it taut as he carries a steady rhythm with his hips.

Your muscles rack as your cheek presses to the table and your arms fold helplessly at your sides. He grunts as he sinks to his limit, snapping his pelvis so you yipe. He chuckles and speeds up, goaded on by the disparity in your strength.

He releases the knot of fabric and trails his hand up your back. He hooks his hand around your shoulder and bends over you, rutting harder as he puffs against your hair.

"If you let me in, I don't have to break down the walls, doll," he snarls.

You moan and fling your hand back, latching onto the lock of hair that tickles your ear. He grunts as you tug, trying to hurt him anyway you can. He leans in and nips the back of your ear.

"You like it," he pants, "I grew it out so you got something to hang onto."

He laughs again. The derisive snicker turns your blood to ice. You can't hurt a man who feels nothing.

He slams against your ass mercilessly and you grasp his hair tighter. He fucks you without measure, frantically pumping into you as his head drapes down beside yours. His metal fingers dig into your shoulder tighter and tighter as his other hand frames your hip.

You yank the tangled strand again as you heave. It's not about hurting him any longer. It's about getting through it, that is until he's back again.

[rebelliousstories]

Ten Thousand Candles

Kiss Me You Animal

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Mentions of Death and Killing

Word Count: 711

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

//Chapter Two//

Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist: Here

Summary: Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.

Have you ever seen someone who just looks like if you say the wrong thing, no matter how small, they would hurt you and everyone in the immediate vicinity? That was Cooper Howard right now. He was tearing through the town faster than a bat out of hell, trailing after a girl. Why was he following this girl? Because just a few minutes ago they met, as she stole his bounty that she was now cashing in on.

Walking into town, he just caught the trail of the unearthly colored hair disappearing into the shop where the bounty originated. He gritted his teeth, and waited outside until she was to return. Cooper found a rocking chair, and waited. He was a patient man, and that was being put to the test as he sat there. Most people passed by him without so much as a glance, but others took one look at him and scurried away. It did not much matter to him anymore. He had two hundred years to come to terms with his new state.

Seeing her white hair come through the door, he took note and noticed her shoving something in her bag. He stood up slowly, marching his way up to her while she was distracted.

“Well, gotta say, sure as shit been a long time since someone stole my bounty from right under me.” Howard drawled, almost jovial in his speech. The woman’s head whipped up to see The Ghoul in front of her once more.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow then, Ghoulie.” She teased, finding joy in annoying him.

“I wasn’t slow,” he growled, “you were just a sneaky little minx who can’t keep her sticky fingers away from what’s not hers.” Cooper stepped closer to the woman, assessing whether or not he needed to draw his gun. But she just laughed.

“That ain’t how I remember it.” The still unknown woman got even closer to Cooper, and toyed with the edge of his jacket. He snatched it away, and stepped away with a flourish.

“Now, only time Imma tell you. Give me the caps that you got paid for my bounty, and we’ll be on our way.” His hand rested on his pistol while the other was outstretched.

“And if I don’t give you my caps for my bounty?” She replied, brushing a hand through her hair nonchalantly.

“I’d hate to kill someone as pretty as you now darlin’.” Cooper smiled, and hoped she would do the right thing. As she stood there, contemplating, The Ghoul was steadily losing his patience. She came closer and closer to his outstretched gloved hand, until it was resting right against her stomach. Sifting through her bag, she placed a singular bottle cap in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“For you troubles. Name’s Zylia, by the way. Next time don’t be so slow.” The now named woman patted Cooper on the shoulder, and began to walk away from him. However, he had different plans. Howard stood there with the cap in his hand, and a million thoughts running through his head. Pocketing the cap, he turned to where Zylia was walking away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He called, making her stop for a brief moment. Even from all this distance, the pink eyes she held pierced his very soul.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” Zylia responded, toying with a strand of hair.

“Do you know who I am?” Cooper questioned again, fully turning his body to face her.

“No. Should I?” Once more, his patience was being tested. Cooper moved his duster out of the way and rested a hand on his pistol that was still holstered.

“Little girl, I’m really not in the mood for this. Give me the caps.” He repeated, fully ready for a shoot out.

“Little girl? Well, I might be little, but not young enough to be a girl. I’m just gonna be on my way if that’s alright with you, Ghoul.” Again, Zylia turned around and began to walk away from the man. He chuckled softly, before drawing his pistol and aiming it at the girl.

It all happened in a flash, but the sound was one that was an everyday occurrence in the Wastelands.

Bang!