#i love silly songs I’ll admit it

[fruit-jpg]

Starkid musicals, my guilty pleasure ooooouu

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

On Set Shenanigans || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

GIFS by me :) cred if use!!

Summary: just a bunch of random scenarios on set I thought of while I was in the shower lmao 🤣

Warnings: noneee

Wc: 1,553

A/n: sorta all over the place sorry lmao

Divider by @pommecita

“If you could describe Y/n and Tom in one word, what would you say?” Rachel purses her lips, side eyeing the two of you who were watching her with silly grins. “Y/n and Tom are,” Rachel hums, tapping her chin as she breaks out into a chuckle.

“Goofy.” You and Tom turn to each other and just break into laughter. “They are seriously the most goofiest people I have met in my entire life! There is never a dull moment on set when these two around,” Rachel shakes her head as she smiles at the two of you who blow kisses her way.

“Tom and Y/n, there’s a behind the scenes video circulating around of the two of you in costume, dancing to Low by Flo Rida,” “Oh my god,” You drop your head on Tom’s shoulder as the two of you couldn’t help wipe the grin off your faces.

“Yes, there is,” Tom laughs as they put up said video. “If you guys haven’t see it, here it is,” Dressed in his peacekeeper outfit, white singlet with his dog tag out, and you in your outfit, you and Tom were dancing along to your favourite song to dance to, Low by Flo Rida.

Rachel was recording the video during your break and was dying of laughter. The camera was shaking the entire time because of it. You and Tom loved goofing around and dancing.

You could say it was your love language. You grab Tom’s peacekeeper hat and plop out on your head slightly wonky as you move along to the song, acting as if you were at a club in Berlin and not on set. The way you and Tom danced and moved to the music just made so much sense.

“She turned around and gave that big booty a smack,” Tom spun around as you slap his ass causing an eruption of laughter from everyone who was watching.

You and Tom were trying to hold your composure but that failed miserably as you grab Tom’s arms to stabilise yourself but turned out he had no sense of stability at that moment as the two of you fall to the ground. A light scream leaving your lips as you fall on top of Tom.

And then the camera focused on the ground as Rachel had leaned over, hands on thighs as she laughed out loud. If anyone didn’t know the context of that clip, they probably would have thought that you two were drunk but truth was you were quite sober.

The crowd on set burst out into laughter as you cover your face in slight embarrassment, Tom laughing along with the host as he pats your head.

~

“What do you usually do when you’re not filming on set?” Tom gives you a look as you bite back a laugh. “I think everyone knows this but, film tiktoks” The crowd breaks into laughter as they knew what you were talking about.

“Yeah Y/n is always filming tiktok and forcing me to do them with her,” Tom grips your thigh, shaking it lightly as you roll your eyes. “No I do not, you always want to be in them!” You argue with him. “Why don’t we watch a few of them here?” Kelly Clarkson recommended as you squeeze Tom’s arm with a smile.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CQrdGn8AYiD/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA== The first tiktok was of you, Tom, Rachel, and Josh in your trailer. You had the idea in your head for a while now and showed them all. “Please don’t drop me babe,” You say to Tom as you set up the camera, “I would never,” You hear him say followed by giggle.

You expected to land in Tom’s arms. Not the floor. You let out a yelp as Tom slaps his hand over his mouth. The three of them laughing their asses off while you landed on yours with a loud thud. “It’s not funny you idiot,” You slap his arm as he picks you up, apologising to you by peppering your face with kisses.

You had to admit it was pretty funny rewatching the tiktok. “You weren’t supposed to catch my feet!” You say in between laughs as you post the tiktok.

~

“This one, captioned name a better duo, I’ll wait has gone quite viral with over 10 million views,” Kelly exclaims as you cross your legs at your knees nodding your head as the video plays on the screen. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNVsM6kw/

“Tom,” You tap your boyfriend’s shoulder as he hums. You had just finished filming a scene together and had abit of time before you were up again. You were both in your mentor outfits, Tom having his blonde locks today.

“I wanna film this tiktok, come be in it?” You urge him as he looks up from his phone seeing a glint of playfulness in your eyes as he lets out a sigh.

Tom secretly loved making tiktoks with you, especially since he wasn’t on it and found the stuff you make him do were interesting and funny. You had hundreds of random tiktoks that you filmed on set saved into your drafts, half of them were of you and Tom.

Your hair stylist helped film the tiktok as the two of you did it out in the open, a bunch of the filming team watching with curiosity and laughing as they walk by. Other cast members such as Josh, Hunter and a bunch of the mentor actors walked by ended up being in the background of it.

You and Tom moved along to the beat, literally just vibing to the music. You wrote on the tiktok “the funniest duo on set>>>” and you weren’t lying.

~

“We are here with the cast of the Hunger Games Prequel, the ballad of songbirds and snakes!” The crowd cheered as you, Tom, Josh, and Rachel smiles. “From what I’ve seen, you guys are actually TikTok sensations!” An eruption of laughter followed.

“This TikTok here specifically,” https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNqguTEY/ you all turn your head to watch the TikTok play on screen as you all start to laugh. “Tom, where were you while this was happening,” The host looks at Tom whose eyes were trained on the ground, a grin forming on his lips.

“I’m actually there in the tiktok, on the bed. Trying to sleep.” He deadpans as you giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder as you grip his arm. “Yeah this was after we came back from partying in Berlin, obviously for some of us, our night didn’t end yet,” Tom chuckles as everyone bursts out in laughter.

“Let’s do that tiktok!” You squeal the second you enter the room. Opening up tiktok, you find the video and show Josh, Hunter, Rachel, and Tom it. Tom’s arms were thrown around your shoulders, his head resting on your head due to the height difference.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” He yawns, kissing your cheek before you all bid him goodnight. Tom couldn’t even get 5 minutes of peacefulness as the four of you spill into the bedroom and set up your phone. He lets out a quiet groan at the noise and flashing of lights as he digs his head deep into his pillow.

~

“Babeee,” You call out as you step into the hair and makeup trailer. He was sitting on a chair, fully dressed in his peacekeeper outfit, hair free from his wig.

He looked more presentable compared to you and Rachel who still had hair rollers on and were still in your robes. You had seen a new trend going around tiktok where you would stare at a guy with Justin Timberlake’s mirrors playing in the background, and you wanted to do it with Tom https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNqnRSNJ/

One side of his lips turns up as he looks up at you, “I’m filming a tiktok and I want you to be in it,” You say with puppy eyes although you know he wouldn’t refuse. You even got his hair and makeup artists, Stacey and Jade to be in on it too.

You pull up a chair beside Tom as you set up the camera. “Wait what am I supposed to do?” He asks, “Nothing, just sit there,” You innocently smile at him as he gives you a suspicious look but nods nonetheless, complying with whatever you were up to.

He honestly just expected to be on camera while you were doing something, but he did not expect to be stared down at by his girlfriend and hair and makeup artists. You stare intensely at Tom, trying your hardest to not laugh or look away.

Staring at your boyfriend has always not been an easy task, especially since he holds such intense eye contact. And his pretty blue eyes did not help at all. Tom tries not to laugh either as he gazes at you before his eyes flicker towards Stacey and Jade then back to you. “What’s going on,” He finally says as his body shakes from laughing.

The TikTok ends and you let out a small laugh, looking over the TikTok. You throw your head back in laughter at Tom’s face when you all look back to stare at him, honestly was priceless.

[lowkeyremi]

𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 !

pairing: iwaizumi x fem!reader note: it’s his birthday!!!!! my silly little gym rat <3 happy late birthday iwa!!! summary: your husband doesn’t want too much for his 30th birthday, but you won’t stand for that! content: fluff, birthday, marriage, mentions of other characters like oikawa, kissing, gosh this is so gooey in the best way possible, drinking.

“Baby, seriously, you don’t need to do all of this.” Your husband sighs at the same time that you poke your tongue out in concentration.

Currently, a piping bag of not too sweet icing is in your hands and you’re icing a one layered cake.

“Haji you only turn 30 once, this is big!” Hajime scratches at his neck, a little groan leaving his lips afterward.

“It’s just a reminder that I’m getting older.” Yes, that’s true, he is getting older. He’s no longer in his twenties. He would argue that he’s not in his prime anymore but you think otherwise.

There have been highs and lows to his twenties but his thirties are going to bring something new to the table. What exactly? You’re not sure, but it will present itself with time.

“Hurry up and go change into the clothes I put out for your special day. Your friends and past kohais will be arriving in like 30 minutes.”

A little what leaves his lips, “You invited those losers?”

“Those losers all love you very much, so of course I invited them.” He snorts, “Never thought I’d spend my thirtieth birthday with my old volleyball team.”

“Yeah, well, you told me that they were like a family to you soooo.” He can’t argue with you there, sometimes his volleyball team felt more like a family to him than his own family did. They all had the same goals as he did and they just understood him.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll go change.” Good, he can’t be seen in his white tank top and pajama bottoms. Even if that tank top is a little small on him and defines his aged muscles well.

Hopefully the slacks you picked out will define his ass some, and the navy button up will fit snuggly on his torso. You almost lose focus just thinking about it. Your determination to finish this cake is what brings you out of dreamland.

You set down the main icing and pick up one with a smaller tip to add little details and write “Happy 30th Birthday Hajime!” In the signature Aoba Johsai turquoise.

When the cake is finished you worked on making sure all the decorations were up to par. Since this is only a small party, the decorations are kept to a minimum. Minimal but fitting of course.

When your husband was away training professional athletes, he would send you silly snaps of him with different filters. Of course you saved all of them for this occasion. There were at least twenty different printed out faces of your husband with silly filters that you had saved from your chats.

You wasted no time hanging them up, giggles following suit as you looked at the silly pictures.

The last one doesn’t get hung up because Hajime surprises you and snatches the picture from your hands.

You got a little whiff of the cologne he was wearing, a smile graces your face when french vanilla and spicy cinnamon tickles your nose. Upon turning around you see him wearing the outfit you picked out and you gotta admit that he looks even better than you imagined he would.

“What’s all of this?” The pictures are what he’s implying but you can’t focus on anything besides the way his muscles bulge when he waves his arm around to signify all the pictures you had hung up.

“Oh nothing. Just something to entertain your friends with!” Your giggles only multiple when you hear a loud groan leave his lips.

“These look awful I’m taking them down.” He doesn’t even get the chance to because the doorbell rings at the perfect moment.

“I don’t think so,” you sing-song, “you need to go welcome in your guests.”

Said guests give a loud knock and four more doorbell rings. Hajime rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t get stuck in the back of his head, “Must be that annoying Shittykawa.”

That nickname spilling from his lips proves just how much he needs this party. His friends bring out a side of him that doesnt have to pretend or worry about being judged, because they get him.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY IWA-CHAN!” Fills your ears when your husband opens the door. Hanamaki and Matsukawa join in mocking Oikawa’s voice, “Happy birthday Iwa-chan~” the two mock in unison.

“Shut up!” Oikawa quips before scoffing, “always being mean to me, I can never catch a break!” Of course he brings his dramatics into your kitchen.

His brows unfurrow when he takes sight of you and he gasps very dramatically, “[name]-chan! LOOKING AS BEAUTIFUL AS EVER!!” Oikawa basically flops onto you and wraps his arms around you in a hug.

But you have to remember this a 6’1 athlete, not someone of your stature so you almost fall over when he flops on you.

“Oi, idiot stop flirting with my wife!” Hajime screams from the front door.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa make their way into the kitchen. “Toru’s back to wife stealing again?” Matsukawa asks with a smug look. Oikawa has a huge reputation and he usually maintains it well, a scandal like this sounds quite interesting!

“Oh? He stole someone’s wife?” You ask setting out silverware and handing out party hats, which Yahaba says is corny, but what do you care?

“You guys are twisting the story! She didn’t tell me that she had a husband!” Hanamaki, ever the instigator, tells Oikawa that it’s still bad he was seeing a married woman.

More of his team starts to file in: Kunimi, Kyotani, Kindachi, and Watari.

These grown men (Oikawa, Maki, and Mattsun) are actually having a petty argument. You know the two are purposefully riling up Toru, maybe they wanted a reaction from Hajime, who knows, but you’re going to be the one to put it to rest.

“Hey! No fighting on Haji’s birthday. Also Oikawa are you really gonna let them rile you up like that, you’re a grown man for heavens sake.” Hajime makes his way from the entrance of your house to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Yeah listen to my wife.” Kunimi makes a gagging noise and you just giggle.

“Welcome everyone! I’m glad you all could make it to Hajime’s 30th birthday and yes, it means a lot for all of you to be here. He may not say or express it enough but he really does love you guys.” All eyes shift from you to Hajime and he blushes slightly at your confession.

“Babe-” He mumbles before he’s interrupted by his best friend.

“We’d be dumb not to be able to tell that Iwa-chan loves us!” Hajime glared at the brunette and takes that as a warning to shut up.

After dinner is served and cake is eaten, you all shift to the living room were you enjoy drinks and just talk about old times, or catch each other up on new things in life.

Hajime will never admit it but he’s a lightweight. After three drinks his face is already flushed and his words are slightly slurred.

“Hey! Listen up losers I have an announcement.” He says raising his glass (of water, you switched it out when he wasn’t looking. All eyes are on him and you can see Oikawa recording this moment, most likely to use to taunt your husband later.

“I- I fuckin’ love you guys so much. You guys are the best buncha’ idiots I’ve ever met. And- and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not only were you guys there for me as a team you guys were at my wedding and I hope you’ll be there for me again in the future.” He yells out cheers and everyone raises their glasses to clink it with his.

“We love you too, Iwaizumi!” The group yells in unison. Well maybe not Kunimi— he kinda mumbles it.

The rest of the night contains laughter and pure joy from this amazing celebration.

“How do you feel, honey?” You ask him as he rests his head on your shoulder, no doubt ready for bed, since he usually doesn’t stay up later than 10:30 and it’s 1 am.

“Like the luckiest fuckin’ guy on earth.” That brings a smile to your face.

“That beats no party, huh? Mr. I didn’t want a party.”

“Didn’t realize how much I missed these idiots.” He sighs in contentment.

[daisynik7]

I know I loved you from the start

“Tell me.”

You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “No way.” 

Nanami smirks at you, forearms resting on the table. “Pretty please?” 

He’s asking you when you first knew you liked him, a question you’re embarrassed to admit the answer to. And it’s not fair when he looks at you like this. The twitch of mirth on his lips, the soft gaze in his eyes, his fingers inching towards yours, yearning to be closer, longing for a touch. He’s making it very difficult to resist. 

Still, he underestimates your stubbornness. He’s not going to get it out of you that easily. Adamant, you shake your head, pressing your lips together tightly, not giving in. 

Laughing, he finally relents, relaxing in his seat, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll let it go.” 

The two of you are in the break room, finished with lunch, neither of you eager to return to your separate cubicles. It’s just you and him, though there’s still that risk of any one of your colleagues walking in on something they shouldn’t see. A longing glance, a tender touch, a chaste kiss. Your current romance is a secret to the office, and it shall remain that way for the time-being. Involving others makes it complicated, and one of the things you enjoy most about being with Nanami is how easy it is. 

The reason you’re reluctant to answer his question is because from the beginning, you liked him. Smitten is the better word for it. He was the new hire that nearly everyone fawned over the minute he set foot through the door, and you were no exception to his quiet charm. His obvious physical attraction and even more evident kindness made people gravitate towards him. But it was something else that caught your attention on his first day of work: a box of warm croissants from your favorite bakery that he carried with him to share. You marveled at the wonderful goodies with a bright smile on your face, rambling on and on to him. How the owner of that bakery studied patisserie in the heart of France before moving to Japan. Why the pastry is so delicate, due to the number of laminations. The butter they use being imported from Europe and how it really makes a difference. Nanami listened to every word of it intently, nodding along with a polite smile on his face. 

It's so silly, so insignificant, so trivial, it’s not even worth mentioning. And so you don’t. 

You’ve exhausted as much of your break time as possible, finally ready to return to work after you clean up. You’re at the sink, rinsing both yours and his container under the faucet. He stands behind you, waiting. Watching.

The sudden slide of his hands on your hips startles you, but you don’t look back. Instead, you hold your breath in anticipation, shuddering slightly as he gently presses his chest to your back, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “For the record, I knew from the very start,” he whispers, breath warm and ticklish on your skin. 

Before you can turn around to face him, Nanami’s already walking away, leaving you alone with wet hands and a racing heart.

Author's Note: Part of the past lives vignettes series! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title inspired by the song "From the Start" by Laufey. Thank you for reading!

[celestialalpacaron]

Ayo, someone by the name of Curly-B-Blog is redlining art of yours from 2020 (while pretending that it's actually Sai Scribble's work), and kind of being a dick about it. just thought you should know.

You know, originally I was just gonna brush it off, but then I went back to look at my old SU art from 2020 and did so much self reflection from then till now.

I think this was around the time I was just learning how to do perspective and tried to use the perspective tool on Procreate for the first time? :0 and I remember telling Sai “Sai I have this STUPID idea, I CANT believe it this stupid joke it’s so DUMBBBB, it’s living rent free in my BRAIN I SWEAR THIS IS GONNA BE SO STUPID DCIUWHEFIUWHIRFUIW4F” and being super excited to show her the finished product. People still think Sai created the Cursed Skin Gloves comic and I think it’s hilarious wjhwnuhwijwuiw

The comic was received very well and it made LOTS of people laugh and I’m still proud of this comic to this very day! :D and tbh if it wasn’t for my obsession for Sai’s Switcheroo AU I never would have found my passion in comic work! (love you you stinky hoe @saiscribbles 🩷)

HOWEVER…. I definitely still had lots to learn! I wasn’t very good at perspective at the time I’ll admit, but I was definitely having lots of fun learning :3

And throughout the past 4 years, ALOT has happened.

I graduated from college with TWO fancy pieces of expensive papers in Visual Development in Animation and Illustration learning from Will Kim and Jeff Soto, and as a I was working with the funny voice man Cougar MacDowall as a comic/story artist and reached in total around 7 million views for my fan series FNAF Security Malware Breached (it was even #21 on the trending list around the time of my birthday 🩷 what a lovely gift), had an insane opportunity to work with Mike Geno and with the voice cast from The Amazing Digital Circus for a fan song as a background and character asset artist, Vivienne Medrano liking and sharing my silly Overlord Husk AU comics, currently on my route to getting my certificate from Aaron Blaise’s Character design program and graduating from Marc Brunet Art School, and now I am completing my first year as professional colorist and art assistant for my storyboard and comic mentor Michelle Lam, aka Mewtripled! (Also I’ll be heading out to Lightbox Expo 2024 on October 26 with Michelle and the team so if y’all ever wanna meetup hahahajaj wink wink wink wink wink)

So you can say I learned ALOT and I enjoyed every minute of what I do :D I try to be humble about my accomplishments because blah blah being humble good yes yes but this time I wanna be selfish and say HELL YEAH I DID ALL THIS!!! AND IM SO EXTREMELY PROUD OF MYSELF FIUGEIURGERGGRS

Now here’s my most recent comic page that I posted like 2 days ago without the text.

That’s pretty freakin wild to me, I can’t believe I used to draw Steven Universe art like that back in 2020 LOL LIKE GUYS I DREW THIS!! WITH!!! MY HANDS!!! IS THAT NOT INSANE!!!???

Anyways moral of the story:

Learn from everyone and everything! Yes, even then mean ones too! If you can learn to work with anyone, I promise you’ll get to where you want to be faster. People can be a little mean on the internet, but that shouldn’t stop you from being where you want to be in the future. I’m so EXTREMELY grateful for all the opportunities and to all the kind professionals who were willing to give me a chance. Seriously, I’m so graciously thankful for everything, and I hope everyone here will support me and my silly little comics I will do now and in the future!

And one more thing:

Don’t be a jerk. Be to be nice to everyone :D nothing good comes out when you’re bad to everyone.

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[riordanness]

fictional — [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 2.1K

warnings: none

‘i put myself in another world, where i can be any other girl, cause i don’t really wanna face it. cause if it isn’t real you can pretend all you want…’

I sigh as the lyrics of ‘Fictional’ by Khloe Rose filter through my headphones. My head leans against the cool glass window of the bus, bumping my forehead every time the driver goes over a pothole.

Hey, call me crazy, but this is probably the most relatable song in existence. At least to me. Falling in love with boys from books and movies was basically my job at this point.

I had one, though, that meant more than all my other ‘fictional boyfriends’.

Percy Jackson.

I’d grown up with this character, laughed with him, cried with him, held fast and braved the storm with him. I’d adopted his personality, tried to be like his girlfriend, acted as if we were best friends, talked to him, dreamt about him, read and written fanfiction about him, anything you can think of. I am obsessed, and no, I’m not ashamed of that fact.

I’m five years running with this crush now, and it’s not going anytime soon. I let out another sigh as I realise, yet again, that this is impossible. He’s fictional, as much as it hurts to admit. He isn’t real, and I can’t live my whole life pretending to date and marry a fictional character. Life just doesn’t work like that. Sadly.

The bus pulls up at school, and I climb off, slipping my headphones into my pocket. I’ll probably get them back out during a boring lecture in one of my classes, but for now I’ll just keep the daydreaming at a minimum.

“Hey, girl.” Andie sidles up to me, nudging me with her shoulder. “What’s kicking?”

“Nothing,” I deadpan. “Unless you’re a goat, like Grover Underwood.”

Andie laughs, my sarcastic comment going right over her head. I love her to death, seriously, but the girl hasn’t got an ounce of sarcasm in her. She’s the most literal and honest person ever, but she’s also super sweet and sincere. So, sarcasm isn’t even a word she knows.

“I’m not a goat, silly,” she giggles. “But guess what?!”

“Yeah?” I am actually kind of interested. Andie usually has all the gossip (somehow), so her news tends to be pretty good.

“There’s a new guy in our class today,” she squeals. “Apparently he just moved here from New York.”

“New York is where Percy Jackson lives,” I say automatically. “I wanna visit there someday so bad.”

Andie rolls her pretty eyes. She likes Percy Jackson. I made her read the books, and she did, but just so that she knows what I’m talking about most of the time. “You and your fictional boys, I swear. This is a real boy, y/n! You need to get your head out of a book for once if you ever wanna meet somebody.”

I shrug. “Real boys suck though.”

And even Andie can’t argue with that.

I’m doodling in my notebook, half listening to Mr Mintar explain something about geometry. I’m not terrible at maths, so I figure I’ll just catch up if I need to. My brain doesn’t want to pay attention today.

I perk up, though, when I hear something new.

“Students,” Mrs May, our principal, announces. “We have a new student joining us today. Please be kind to Mr Jackson and show him around. Remember, you were once a new student yourself.”

Jackson? Like Percy Jackson? How cool is that, I thought to myself. I yank my headphones out of my ears and glance up.

A boy is talking quietly with Mr Mintar; who is probably explaining what we’re learning and where he’ll sit. We have assigned seats in basically every class, because a few boys in our grade are idiots, so I sit alone in every class. Apparently, other students are very likely to copy my work if they’re sitting with me, so the teachers decided to make me sit alone all the time. It’s kind of okay, though. Means I can do whatever I want with no one to tell on me for listening to music.

I watch as Mr Mintar talks with his hands, waving them a lot. The boy has his back to me. He has messy black hair, and he’s wearing jeans, converse and a blue hoodie.

Mr Mintar gestures at me, and I sit up straight. The boy glances quickly, nods at Mr Mintar, and I realise what’s happening. He’s being assigned to sit with me, which probably means I'll also be assigned his personal ‘welcome-to-our-school’ guide. Which means I’ll be forced to be this guy’s friend for the next few weeks. Yay.

The boy turns to face me, and I swear my heart literally skipped a beat. Now, this wasn’t like those dumb fanfics where a girl’s celebrity crush just so happens to turn up at her school for some stupid reason, and they fall in love blah blah blah.

This was an honest-to-goodness ‘what the hell is happening’ moment. The boy now walking towards me looks exactly how I’ve always pictured Percy Jackson in my mind. The same crazily messy black hair, loose and slightly curled at the edges, twisting around his ears and falling in his eyes a little bit. He has the same smattering of freckles on his nose, the same tan skin, troublemaker grin, the same glint of determination in his eyes.

And gosh, I’d know those sea-green eyes anywhere.

The boy slides into the seat beside me. “Hi,” he says softly. “You’re y/n?”

I can’t do anything but nod, and I try to not stare at him too hard.

“You’re supposed to be my guide, or something, I think.” The boy sounds apologetic, like he knows how annoying being forced to be a school guide is. “And I’m supposed to sit with you in all my classes.”

I nod again, a little dazed. Even his voice is Percy Jackson-coded. A slight rasp, a little accented, ugh.

I find my voice. “That’s cool. I’d be happy to show you around and get you into the groove of things here at East High.”

The boy smiles, and he has little crinkles at the side of his pretty eyes, as if he smiles a whole lot.

“Awesome. I’m Percy by the way.”

I blink at him, absolutely sure he’s pulling my leg somehow. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Percy frowns. “Like… my name? The thing that people call me? It’s Percy. Percy Jackson.”

I just stare at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

“Your name is Percy Jackson?”

“Yeah?”

“Like the book character,” I add, surprising myself with the calm in my voice. Inside my head, though, I was screaming.

Percy’s brow furrows. “A book character? I dunno. Never heard of a book character called Percy, but there probably is. I don’t read that much. Dyslexia.”

I nod slowly. “Of course.”

Percy frowns again, then chuckles a little. “You’re weird. I like you.”

My tongue feels like someone’s deep fried it in the microwave. I try to swallow, and it’s nearly impossible. “So you’re not messing with me right now? You’re really called Percy Jackson, and you have dyslexia and probably ADHD, and sea-green eyes, and your hair isn’t dyed, and…”

Percy laughs again. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. What’s this about?”

I shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

Percy raises his eyebrow. “Try me.”

It’s been a week since Percy’s arrival, and I’m still about 89% sure I’m dreaming. Not that I usually dream like this, but still.

I’ve spent basically all my school hours with Percy, as well as half my bus rides home, as his mum lives nearby to us.

The longer I know him, the more I’m sure that he’s real, that he’s actually here, and that he’s really, truly, Perseus Jackson, the not-so-fictional boy I’ve been in love with forever.

The weirdest thing, though, is the night after he arrived, I got home and all my Percy Jackson books and merch were gone. Mysteriously vanished. Even Andie doesn’t know what I’m talking about when I bring up PJO.

It’s like that movie, Yesterday, where everyone forgets about the Beatles. It’s like that, but with Percy Jackson. Oh, and obviously I have a real Percy to replace it; whereas Jack in that movie didn’t really have that.

Anyway, it’s crazy, it’s probably a hallucination, and it’s absolutely incredible. I’m spending every single day with my absolute favourite person in the universe, and he’s real.

The boy I’ve cried over, laughed over, loved for years… He’s here. He’s real. And he’s my friend.

“Marshmallows are not designed to be eaten alone,” I argue, pouting a french fry at Percy. “They aren’t even that nice anyway, but especially not when you eat them dry. All the powder, like, clogs up your throat and it’s disgusting. If you eat them on their own, you’re crazy.”

Percy laughs. “I hate them in my hot chocolates. They get all gooey and mushy, and… ugh.” He makes a face.

I roll my eyes. “You’re insane.”

Percy shrugs. “At least I don’t hate rice.”

“Hey!” I protest. “I have sensory issues! It’s not my fault the feeling of rice in my mouth makes me feel sick.”

“Hey, I know,” Percy says. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry.”

I relax. “It’s okay.”

I stare at him a moment, realising once again that this is really happening to me. That his pretty sea-green eyes are actually looking at me.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

“Huh?” I snap out of my trance, sitting up straighter. “What did you say?”

Percy smirks. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

To be honest, I barely remember. “Uh—nothing. Trying to think of what to do this afternoon after school.”

“You don’t have plans?” he asks.

I shake my head, and sip my chocolate milk. It tastes terrible.

“You’re going on a date with me, dummy,” Percy says, so casually I almost miss it. He leans his head back and throws a grape in the air, catching it in his mouth. It’s surprisingly attractive.

“Wait,” I say. “What?”

“You.” Percy points his finger at me, then himself. “Me.” He makes a swirling motion with his finger. “That new waterpark by the beach.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to go on a date with you?”

“You aren’t saying no.”

“No,” I reply, my voice soft, “I’m not.”

“Wow,” I say. “That’s an epic waterpark.”

Percy grins down at me, his eyes looking extra pretty in the afternoon sunlight. “You wanna race to the gate?”

I pretend to think about it for a second, then begin sprinting as fast as I can. I hear Percy gasp in laughter, then start after me. He catches me easily, his legs much longer than mine, but as he does, he scoops me up into a hug.

“Hey!” I shriek. “Put me down!”

I can tell he isn’t taking me seriously though, because we’re both laughing too hard. Percy eventually drops me gently on the ground. I can’t help but suddenly miss the feeling of his bare chest against me. I blink, and instantly shake those thoughts away.

“Buy me an ice cream and I’ll let you win all our races from now on,” I tease.

Percy scoffs. “Darlin’, you couldn’t win if you had a jetpack on.”

I try to ignore the flutter in my chest and roll my eyes. “Could so, and I don’t need any old jetpack.” I flex my nonexistent muscles. “You see these? I’m perfectly fine on my own, thank you.”

“Oh, oh yeah of course. Sorry, your majesty.” Percy has a stupid grin on his face, and I have an urge to kiss him right then and there.

And so I do. I grab hold of his shoulders, pull myself up onto tiptoe, and press my mouth to his. “I love you, Seaweed Brain,” I whisper into his lips.

Percy wraps his arms around my waist, causing the flutter to return, more greatly this time. He deepens the kiss, his head tilting downwards to accommodate my shorter height. His lips taste of the jellybeans we were eating earlier together. He had insisted on eating only the blue ones, of course.

The world around me blurs, and fades, and I’m left with only him, only Percy Jackson. His fingers on my waist, his mouth on mine, my heart in his hands. I am completely and totally his, as I’ve been forever, but now? He’s completely and totally mine too. My not-so-fictional boy.

[togrowoldinv]

It Is Well

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You’re the choir director at Wanda’s church. One afternoon after church, your relationship with her changes

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Reader has a penis but no pronouns are used, kissing, cursing, sex in a church oops, oral (W receiving), blowjob, Wanda being a milf

Note: I have no explanation, just love for milf Wanda. Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

There are a lot of reasons that you love your new job. One is that you get to live out your passion for singing and help others in the process. The second reason is that it pays well. The church was desperate for a new choir director, so they were willing to pay you pretty much whatever you wanted.

But the reason that you love your job the most is that you’ve met Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda is your favorite choir member by far. She is always punctual, she sings beautifully, and she flirts with you.

At least, you think she’s flirting with you. She is always making an excuse to touch your arm as she walks by you, or she’ll stay late to help you work on arrangements.

“Hey there!” Wanda says as she enters the choir suite today.

“Wanda, how are you?” You ask.

“I’m doing mighty fine. And you?”

“Honestly, I could use some help,” you admit.

Wanda nods seriously and sets her purse down. She sits next to you at the piano. You try not to notice how good she looks in her button up shirt.

“How can I help, darlin’?” She asks.

“I’m trying to make this transition sound right, but I just can’t.”

“Play it for me,” Wanda says.

You begin to play the song and Wanda sings along quietly. Her voice floats through the room like a sweet songbird. When you get to the transition, you stop. It still hasn’t come to you.

Wanda touches your hand and places your fingers on a few different keys than the ones you’ve been trying.

“It is well,” she begins singing. She nods for you to continue playing. “It is well with my soul.”

It’s the perfect transition.

“Wanda Maximoff you are a genius!” You say. Wanda hugs you tightly and smiles. “We’re ready for the service now.”

“I’ll get my robe on,” Wanda says.

She stands up from the piano and takes her robe out of the closet. Somehow, she looks even better in it than in her regular clothes.

“Looking very nice, ma’am,” you compliment Wanda.

“Thank you,” Wanda replies. She walks closer to you. “Can I admit something to you?”

“Yeah- of course.”

Wanda is just inches from you. You smell her perfume.

“I’ve always thought these robes were kind of silly, but then I saw you in one,” Wanda says. “And now I think they are very flattering.”

Wanda grins before she steps back and leaves the suite. You stand there stunned by her words. She was definitely flirting with you this time.

You try to shake it off and go lead the choir during service. It goes without a hitch. The only time you almost miss a cue is when Wanda smiles at you. It’s really that easy for her to make you fold.

After the service, you go back to the choir suite. No one else is in there when you walk in, but soon Wanda comes in and shuts the door behind her.

“You should leave that on,” Wanda says, gesturing to your robe.

“Are they calling for an encore out there?” You joke.

Wanda crosses the room quickly. She places a hand on your forearm and the other comes to rest on your cheek. Your breath hitches at her movements.

“I’m very attracted to you,” Wanda says. “Are you attracted to me?”

“Wanda, I- um- it’s not that simple,” you say. Of course, your answer is yes.

“I think it’s simple. You’re absolutely stunning,” Wanda says.

“You’re beautiful, Wanda. But we can’t.”

Wanda pouts her perfect lips. You fight the urge to lean forward and kiss them.

“Would you really deny me this pleasure, sweetheart?” She asks.

“No,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“No ma’am.”

She grins wickedly and places her lips on yours in a long, slow kiss. Her hand on your face slips into your hair as she deepens the kiss. Her other hand takes yours and places it over one of her breasts. Even through the robe and her clothing, you can feel the breast.

You kiss until neither of you can breathe. And then you drop to your knees in front of Wanda. She lifts her robe up over her hips. Taking your time, you take off her skirt and let her panties fall to the floor.

“Make me feel good, baby,” Wanda says.

You place kisses against her creamy thighs. She shivers with every touch, and you know her husband doesn’t touch her like this. Wanda moans when you lick through her folds, gathering her wetness with your tongue.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” Wanda says. “About you on your knees worshipping me in this church.”

“Fuck,” you mumble against her.

Wanda’s hand comes to your hair to encourage you to continue. You never want to stop. You take her clit in your mouth and her hips stutter. In a few more moments, Wanda falls apart at your touch. She has to reach for the nearest chair to regain her balance.

“Holy fuck, Wanda,” you say when you emerge from between her legs.

“Mmm, come here,” she says. She lifts you up by your shoulders and you kiss her.

Wanda lets out the softest moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. She wants more. You let her take control, pushing you down to the ground again.

This time she lifts your robe up your body to reveal your hips and something she didn’t expect. Your cock is hard, and Wanda immediately takes it into her mouth. She sucks until you’re coming into her mouth.

“Oh fuck, y/n,” Wanda says. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Ride my cock, baby?” You ask her.

Wanda nods and settles herself over you. She aligns her center with your cock, slipping onto it with ease. She is so wet from getting you off. The woman rides your cock as she moves her hands over your abdomen. You can see yourself slipping in and out of her even with your choir robe bunched up at your chest.

“Fuck, Wanda, I’m going to come,” you say as you feel yourself getting close.

“Me too,” she groans out. Her eyes are closed with pleasure. She shouts as she comes, and you spill into her.

Wanda lets you stay inside her until she’s come down from her high. You kiss her when she slips off of you and lays on the ground next to you.

“We should’ve done that months ago,” you say.

“Agreed,” Wanda says. She chuckles. “Can you go again?”

You look down at yourself. It’s unlikely but you’re willing to try.

“Maybe if we kissed for a while first? Or you let me get you off first?”

“By all means, go ahead,” Wanda says.

You laugh and turn over to kiss Wanda again. Lifting her robe off this time, you pay close attention to her breasts. And you bring her pleasure again. She does the same for you.

Wanda is definitely why you love your job, especially now.

[anqelically]

hiii sorry but can you please do dazai x reader holding him and humming to him until he falls asleep? <3 ily drink water

sweet dreams | osamu dazai x gn!reader

word count: 0.6k

content: no manga spoilers, fluff, one use of “bella”, it’s been a moment since i wrote oops 😭

navi | bsd masterlist

the night is cold, a blanket of snow covering the streets and buildings of yokhama. flurries fell from the sky and onto the first surface they touched. although the amount that was falling was not much, the breeze was harsh enough to make up for it.

osamu dazai stood near the corner of your shared bedroom deep in his thoughts. the window was cracked open, allowing the heat to escape and the wind to blow into your room. although you had woken up a few minutes ago, you didn’t move once. you were waiting for dazai to come back to bed, but he didn’t seem like he’d be moving any time soon.

you laid in bed a few moments more before you got out of bed. you moved quietly, a few feet away before dazai craned his head to you. you were sure he knew that you’d been awake since earlier, but neither of you said a word about it.

“close the window and come back to bed with me,” you spoke softly, hand reaching for his. “it’s cold.”

dazai let you use his hand to cup your own cheek, “because of the open window, or because i’m not there?”

you were quick to admit, “both…”

the brunet smiled, almost seeming satisfied at your response. you guided dazai back to your bed after closing the window. you held him close, burying yourselves in the comfort of your blankets.

“so, what had you up so late?” you decided to ask, gently massaging his scalp.

“i was just thinking about the day we met, bella. this hour on this day 3 years ago. do you remember?”

a silly question he asked, of course you remembered.

you were trudging through the snow in the early morning, leaving an ex-partner’s house. the day you met him was the same day they had broken up with you. you were walking down an unfamiliar road when you stumbled across dazai, who stood alone in the middle of the street with a half-empty glass in his hand.

initially, you tried to dismiss him as a weird drunkard and wanted to pass him quickly. dazai, however, called for you anyway and asked if you wanted to share a drink. and you couldn’t tell if it was because you had just been broken up with or not, but you were compelled to say yes after looking into his eyes.

“i’ll never forget, ‘samu. you were standing in the middle of the road, drinking by yourself.“ your fingers ran through his hair a final time before you wrapped your arms around his waist. “why reminisce suddenly?”

“couldn’t sleep, so why not think about my dearest while i was awake?” he grinned.

“are you sure you couldn’t sleep because you were thinking, and not thinking because you couldn’t sleep?” a familiar warmth spread throughout your chest, “come here, let’s sleep.”

although you knew it was easier said than done, you attempted to lull your lover into a slumber. you held him close, continuously rubbing circles onto his bare skin with your thumb as you hummed the first song that came to mind.

and it took almost half an hour, but you found that dazai’s mind had eventually succumbed to sleep. when you called his name and received nothing in response, you were sure. momentarily, you glanced out the window dazai stood at earlier. the snow and breeze had come to a stop, everything outside still.

you buried yourself further into your sheets and shifted closer to dazai. your hand moved his stray hairs out of his face before you kissed his forehead tenderly.

“i’m glad for that night, always,” you whispered before closing your eyes. “sweet dreams, my love.”

note: nonnie if you’re reading this rn, i hope yk ily too 😭🫶🏻 i’ve been in a slump so once i saw this req buried in my inbox i knew i should pick it up because cuddling in bed w/ my favs has been on my mind due to the cold weather :( i am also so so SO sorry for how long this took (def not 9 months 💀)

reblogs are appreciated + join my taglist !

@lovedazai @enomane @er0ses @spenzitz @wineaddict2904 @aeshiiteiru @chuuyrr @ashthemadwriter @siyoko @ma3mae @piichuu @dreamlessimp @4nthonyyliving @ruru-kiss @worldussysblog @hauntedsol @janbannan

[missmeinyourbones]

a tiny little something for you babies! barely edited or proofread. probably not good but hey here we are. soft soft soft fluff with a pain in the ass satoru

…

“satoru?”

your lover replies eagerly, “yes, angel?”

“what’s the point of us having a king-sized bed if we aren’t actually utilizing its space?”

the question is rhetorical, he knows this, yet satoru still finds himself smiling as he opens his mouth to let it do what it does best and bullshit.

“why would i want to spread out in bed when i could be cuddling the love of my life all night?”

the bed is huge, far too big for two people—even including satoru and his ridiculously long limbs. a california king lined with satin sheets and pillows that feel like clouds. it feels like a dream, but the weight of satoru’s body thrown across your own reminds you that this is, in fact, a grounding reality. 

he feels you sigh against his hair, “as romantic as you’re trying to make that seem, you’re on my side of the bed.”

his eyebrows furrow against your chest, and he almost laughs at how silly your statement sounds. 

“there are no sides of the bed,” he easily replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

“what’s yours is mine baby,” he quips, before lifting his left hand to your face as proof, proudly showcasing the silver band decorating his ring finger. “i mean, that’s what we said in the vows, right?”

you swat his hand from your face and he chuckles, vibrating your entire body and making the room a whole lot warmer than it was a few moments ago. 

“i said in sickness and in health,” you stubbornly remind him, “not on my side of the bed and yours.”

at the tiredness lacing your voice and the grumpy glare you shoot him through your words, satoru decides to throw you a bone. he detangles himself from you, removing his weight and shuffling a bit further from where he priorly laid on top of you. 

now, he lays on his stomach, head turned to face your own. his large hand still makes itself comfortable flat across your soft stomach, his foot skimming your calf every now and then in an attempt to get comfortable. 

“there,” he exhales after a moment of deliberate shuffling, “i’ll let you breathe.”

his statement is so ridiculous, it makes you laugh. genuinely exhale from your nose and bubble deep from your throat. because to the eye of any stranger, the position is still extremely close. satoru is practically nuzzling into your side, glued to your hip as half of his body now slowly works its way on top of you—which is better than whole, so you take it as a win. 

you roll your eyes to hide your flush, “how kind of you.”

the moment is peaceful, but for only that—a moment. through the silence of your bedroom, satoru finds his voice once more. 

“can you rub my back?” 

he watches your face contort in the darkness as you scowl, “you’re insufferable.”

“please?” he whines like a child as his head pushes into your neck. “i’ll do yours after.”

you both know he won't, as he’ll be fast asleep in the next ten minutes, at most. you two do this same song and dance a few times a week: he asks you to run his back, you pretend to be annoyed by it, and then the gentle scratch of your nails on his skin lulls him to sleep rather quickly. it’s a routine, it feels like the two of you. 

through soft sighs of pleasure and dozing consciousness, satoru admits through a lazy grin. 

“this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“mhm,” you nod along at his blissed-out trance, “if i got to sprawl out and have my back rubbed til i fall asleep every night, i think it’d be my favorite part too.” 

satoru smiles with his teeth and he laughs from his belly at your quick remark. “not because of all this,” he claims through a whine, “it is a huge bonus, though.”

he slightly shivers beneath your fingertips when you whisper in return, “then why?”

satoru places a kiss on your neck, and his lips feel softer than the luxury bed you drift off in. 

“because i get to be with you,” he easily replies.

[steddieas-shegoes]

congrats on 3000!!! 🎉🍾🎊💖

For the sentence prompt: "I'm just gonna go freak out for a minute first."

Thank you!!!! ♥️

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Steve was holding his hand while the doctor checked his stitches. It wasn’t really that weird for him to be holding his hand, not since he woke up half-dead in the hospital.

It was a little weird that he was rubbing his thumb against the side of his thumb, though.

And probably a little weird that his other hand was resting on his head, a weight that was comforting and confusing all at once.

“Looks great, Eddie. I’d say by the next visit, we’ll be able to get them out and let these finish healing naturally,” the doctor smiled at him as he pulled his shirt back down.

Steve’s hand squeezed his, and he couldn’t help looking over at the sunshine in the seat next to him.

It had to be pretty obvious how he felt about Steve. He’s lucky none of the kids have caught on and started teasing him yet.

Robin has, but at least she knows to do it privately.

“I’ll have the front desk schedule you for two weeks out. You can grab an appointment card on the way out. Keep them all clean and don’t do any heavy lifting or physical activity quite yet,” the doctor reminded as she pulled off her gloves and threw them in the trash. “You boys have a nice day.”

As she left the room, Steve helped Eddie sit up slowly. He didn’t really need the help anymore, but he’d be an idiot to admit it with how much Steve touched him.

“Two more weeks, Eds! That’s better than what they thought last time,” Steve was so excited for him. His smile was lighting up the room and he looked five seconds away from bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Steve’s smile dropped at Eddie’s tone.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’ll be great to have less limits. Might be able to get the guys together for a jam session,” Eddie gave a small smile.

“But…?”

Eddie sighed. “But then you won’t be around anymore, right? Like, other than when we all hang out on movie nights. You only stuck around because no one else could really help me every day. Everyone had work or families that wouldn’t let them out of their sight.”

Steve looked heartbroken, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna leave you just because you don’t technically need me anymore,” Steve shook his head. “We’re- we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course! I mean, I thought so. But I know it could just be that you feel bad and I wouldn’t expect you to stick around because of that.”

Steve grabbed his other hand, his grip tightening on Eddie’s skin almost painfully.

“I wanna stick around for a lot of reasons, Eds.”

Eddie was caught in his gaze, his wide, pleading eyes almost too much.

“Like what?”

“Like because you’re fun to be around. You’re funny and talented and smart. You taught me about Hobbits! Love those guys,” Steve stepped closer. “You’re brave and you care about all of us. You-“ Steve swallowed. “You see me. The real me.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s heart was racing as he looked between Steve’s eyes, down to his lips where his tongue had poked out momentarily to wet them.

“You’ve seen me when my parents have come home and made me feel like shit and you just distracted me with singing whatever pop songs are on the radio and helping me cook dinner. You’ve been there when I had a two day long migraine and couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You made grocery shopping fun! I fucking hate grocery shopping, but you just keep being silly and making me laugh and I had fun.” Steve leaned in so his forehead was touching Eddie’s. “You laugh at my jokes, even when they aren’t that funny. You listen to me when no one else pays attention. You see who I am and you let me be who I am and I don’t feel scared that you’ll run.”

“I’m not running.”

“I know. I love that you aren’t, that you won’t.” Steve closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were watery. “I love you.”

Eddie was certain he was dead. Maybe the last month had all been some coma-induced dream and they finally pulled the plug. Maybe he actually died in the Upside Down and the last month was his final goodbye to everyone in his own head.

He stood up slowly, trying not to push Steve away, but having to guide him away from the table he’d been laying on.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving, right?”

“Nope. I’m just gonna go freak out for a minute first.”

“Um.”

Eddie smiled, leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, and pulled away.

“Give me a minute. This is either the most realistic dream I’ve ever had or the best day of my life.”

Steve snorted, but let him walk to the door and stand outside of it for a moment.

When Eddie came back in, his cheeks were red, but he looked determined.

He pulled Steve into him by his hips, crushed their lips together, and smiled so hard their teeth clacked against each other. It was a little messy for a first kiss, but they could get better.

“You love me? Really?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Steve laughed as they pulled apart.

“I thought I was obvious!”

“Not really. I was convinced I was imaging things! Robin had to explain to me what the hanky code was before I even believed you liked guys!”

They both laughed so hard they cried, forgetting entirely that they were still in the doctor’s examination room.

Someone knocked on the door and they broke apart quickly, trying to stop the laughter for a moment to deal with whoever was at the door.

A nurse poked her head in. “Sorry, don’t wanna rush you, but just wanted to make sure everything was okay? Did you need to see the doctor again?”

“No, no. Sorry. We’re heading out. He just needed a minute,” Steve said quickly, smiling back at her.

She nodded and left, leaving the door open as a silent reminder that they needed to disinfect the room for the next patient.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to say it just-“

“I’m not. I’m saying it because I love you. I see you, remember? There’s a lot there to love.”

Steve turned a bright red, and Eddie decided then he would do just about anything to see that shade on Steve’s cheeks and neck as often as possible.

“Let’s go home,” Steve finally said when he recovered. “Wanna kiss you more.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

[mochinomnoms]

Hi hi friend,

If it is not too much trouble I would like to make a request for your event? I think I would like Floyd with prompt 14- “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”

They/them for Yuu is fine with me, I was thinking romantic? Where maybe it's obvious to everyone but Yuu how requited their feelings are.

I've really liked reading your writing and hope you continue to have fun doing it (♡°▽°♡)

floyd leech x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, mutual pining [wc} – 3,659 prompt 14: “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!” note - hahahahahhahahahahaha i did not mean to write so much but i went a little buckwild and i think floyd deserves to be allowed to be soft sometimes a floral inconvenience

Lavender roses - Introduced in 1900, lavender roses represent love at first sight. They’re often given to someone to convey that the giver was immediately smitten and fell in love. 

You’d decided to attend a karaoke event the Mostro Lounge was hosting to introduce the new spring menu. It was meant to be a nice, relaxing hangout with your friends from Heartslaybul as you listened to your friends attempt to show off their mediocre singing skills. 

Ace was in an especially good mood, happy to tease you as you waved happily at Floyd, who’d returned your affections. 

“Oi, oi, oiiiiiii, Prefect? When you gonna say something? Kinda tired of dealing with you puking petals every—OW!”

You snorted as Deuce smacked Ace upside the head, muttering about him being an asshole. 

“Leave them alone Ace, unless you want to be collared for harassing a member of the student body?” Riddle reprimanded, giving Ace a harsh glare as he turned to you instead. 

“You can ignore him, Prefect, you don’t have to say anything to that good-for-nothing merman! I’m sure you could do much better anyways.”

You chuckled, enjoying the soft banter between the group. It was particularly nice seeing Riddle interact more casually with his peers, even if you weren’t able to convince him to sing with you. 

“Are you sure you do want to go up with me?” You pouted leaning in close to the red-headed housewarden. “I’ll even let you pick the song—”

“Out of the question.”

You sighed, resting against the plush cushions of the booth while Ace and Deuce bicker about which song would be better for a duet. This was nice. 

It was nice, up until Floyd decided to take part in the festivities. Somehow he’d snuck behind you and Riddle, snatching up your friend with a gleeful cackle as he screeched. 

“FLOYD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT—”

“Nah, it’s fine Goldfishie, I need ya for just a sec!”

Floyd placed Riddle in a seat, front and center at the stage, as he climbed up. The cool blue spotlight suited Floyd’s features as he grinned. 

Picking up the mic from its stand, Floyd announced, “Alright! This song is for my favorite little fishie in the whole entire school, so you all better enjoy it!”

You expected him to start singing a silly pop song, one with high energy and beats. Or one that became a meme on Magicam last week, something about flamingos and turning pink. 

Instead, the upbeat, suave tunes of a familiar song started playing. A familiar love song. 

“Is…is this ABBA?”

“Who?” Cater asked, recording the scene with a stifling giggle as Riddle turned redder and redder in embarrassment (and most likely rage) as Floyd continued to serenade him. 

“This is ‘Lay Your Love’ by BABA, a classic from the 80s—”

“No it’s called ABBA back home—wait, WHY IS FLOYD SINGING A LOVE SONG TO RIDDLE!?”

Your screech startled the surrounding tables, drawing attention that you were too jealous to focus on. Floyd made eye contact with you, hearing your yelling. Continuing to sing—quite nicely you’d hate to admit—the eel mer winked and smirked, drawing an ire that you didn’t know you had. 

“What the hell? Floyd!” With the vindication of a scorned lover, you stomped to the stage and swiped the microphone from Floyd’s hands. 

“Floyd, what are you doing?” you spoke into the mic, glaring daggers at the tall beanpole of an eel turned man, who looked unbothered at your angry presence.

Floyd took the mic back and answered, “I’m trying to win my mate back—DON’T GO WASTING—”

“What mate?” You yanked the mic back while Floyd followed suit, though this time you kept both hands on. It became a tugging match as you both tried speaking into the mic before the other took it back. 

“Goldfishie.” You could hear Riddle scream at that. 

“Riddle’s not your mate! I’m your mate—” You snapped your mouth shut, the mic feedback and your last words echoing through the lounge, mocking you. 

Floyd had a large, smug grin on his face, his sharp teeth gleaming under the bright lights of the stage. You were now very aware of the packed lounge, and of the students spectating. 

The mic was slowly pulled back to Floyd, who gleefully asked “Oh~ Say that again?”

“Nuh-uh.” 

You shook your head furiously, trying to pull back in order to run off and curl into a hole from embarrassment. Floyd’s grip on the mic and your hands tightened, preventing your escape. 

“That’s fiiine,” Floyd pulled out a small device from his pocket, lightly tapping it on the mic. “I have it riiiight ‘ere.” 

Suddenly, a recording of your voice looped into the mic: 

“I’m your mate—I’m your mate—I’m your mate—”

He recorded it. 

“Oh my god…” You looked at Floyd in horror, who was still grinning ear to ear, like a cat that got the mouse. 

“HehehehehehahahAHAHA!” Floyd’s giggle turned into a cackle as he launched at you, mic and recorder abandoned on the floor. Between the ear-splitting squeal of the mic hitting the ground and a 6’2” man tackling you, there was little time for you to defend yourself as your lips clashed, teeth clattering against one another from the brute force.

His long arms wrapped themselves tightly around your waist, dipping you down dramatically as he broke your kiss to instead leave wet kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and every other piece of skin not covered by clothes. 

Ace and Cater’s cackles could be heard amongst the now growing laughter, whistles, and jeers of the crowd. You think you could even make out someone yelling at your two to get a room. 

“—off the stage! Get off the stage, both of you!” 

Ah, it was Azul. Who was stomping over the shoo you both off the stage, giving Floyd a particularly harsh whack on the head with his staff. 

“Ow, fuck that hurt!” Floyd whined, scooping you up with his left hand and cradling you to his chest. “Cool it Azul, don’t harsh my vibe—”

“I don’t care! Go make out in your room! This is a lounge not a brothel!”

“Fiiiiiine,” Floyd adjusted his grip to instead throw you over his shoulder, amused by how limp you’d gone in his grasp. “Come on Shrimpy! I got something fun in mind~”

His sentence and teasing tone made you flush, images of you and him in bed flashing through your mind. 

“W-wait, Floyd, what are we gonna do?”

“You’ll see, ahahahehe!” Floyd’s giggled echoed through the hallway as he quickened his pace. It was only a few minutes before you realized that you two had made it to the dormitory halls. 

Floyd kicked open his door, the hinges squeaking from the force. He marched over to his bed, grabbing at your waist to no doubt throw you on it before pausing. 

“Oh yeah.” Like a sudden realization hitting him, Floyd grabbed the corner of his bedsheets and shook them, clothing, books, and crumbs no doubtedly flying off. 

Once satisfied, Floyd hummed and once again grabbed your waist, this time committing to throwing you on the bed, which bounced under you. 

“AaaAaaAAAah—FLOYD!” You yelped, face turning redder as Floyd caged you to the bed. He looked at you with a hungry expression, licking his lips at the sight of you. 

“Wait-wait Floyd, gimme a sec—” you stammered, crawling backwards until your back hit the headboard. “—this is all very very sudden, I—wait!”

Floyd crawled after you, trapping you with his long arms, leaning down until his lips were lingering over yours. You shut your eyes in anticipation, waiting for his hands to grab at your clothes and tear them off. 

A soft, tender meeting of the lips. Floyd pressed his mouth against yours, swiping his tongue into your mouth, to which you returned with flustered confusion. The kiss was with such gentleness that you had to open your eyes to confirm that it was indeed Floyd kissing you. 

Olive and yellow eyes were closed, a blissful smile on his lips as he broke your kiss, instead pressing almost chaste pecks to your cheeks, down, your neck, and over your shirt where your heart was beating away. 

Floyd pressed his right ear to your chest, listening to the increasingly rapid pounding against your rib cage. His arms moved from trapping you against the bed to trapping you against his body, wrapping around your back and tightening while his lanky legs tangled between yours. 

You weren’t sure what to do with your own hands, once he had settled laying on you. Hesitantly, you reached to lace them through his hair, pushing the strands back to get a better view of his peaceful face. Admittedly, seeing Floyd in such a state, blissful and sweet, was beautiful. 

His smile grew slightly as you combed through his hair, nuzzling his nose into your chest. Into your heart really. 

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Floyd opened his yellow eye, gleaming at you in amusement. “I just wanted to cuddle, did ya have somethin’ else in mind? Haha!”

He moved to prop up his chin, smirking at you as he teased, “Didn’t think ya had sucha dirty mind, if you wanna ‘do it’, all you had to do was ask—”

You shoved his face back into your chest looking away in embarrassment, feeling his giggles vibrate through you. 

“Shut up, ugh!” You pouted, grumbling, “You set me up! Ugh! How’d you even know that would work?”

“I heard you.”

“Huh?”

“Talkin’ to Lil Goldfishie,” Floyd moved so that instead of laying on top of you, he was curled into your side with his head nestled at the crook of your neck. “When you got the flower sickness.” 

You looked at him with shock. That conversation with Riddle happened nearly three months ago in between classes. 

Specifically, it happened a few weeks after winter break, when you were catching up Riddle to your “adventure” in Scarabia, after which small lavender roses started blooming along your freckles, their thorns scratching your skin.

“And then, he launched us waaaaaay into the desert!” You animatedly waved your arms around as you recounted your fiasco over winter break. “We were trapped, but then Kalim used his unique magic to fill a dry riverbed with water and then!”

Riddle raised a brow at you as you began gigging with a soft blush. “Jade and Floyd had to turn into their merforms, so me and Kalim had to hold on to his back, but when I wrapped my arms around his chest, and he held my hand to steady me! ”

Your friend rolled his eyes as you started to silently squealed in your seat, sighing.

“Are you going to finish? I have better things to do than listen to you babble about Floyd of all people. Honestly,” Riddle huffed, “I don’t understand what you see in that riffraff!”

“He’s not a riffraff!” You quipped, frowning as you crossed your arms. “He’s actually really sweet if you give him the time of day, Floyd just likes being able to have fun with others you know!”

“Even then, his mood swings don’t terrify you? He gets rather violent sometimes.” Riddle took a sip of his tea as you shook your head. 

“No, I mean if you just go with the flow it’s fine, plus that just makes him more exciting to be around! Plus we’ve been getting closer ever since Azul’s overblot…”

You smiled softly as you looked down at your lap, fondness growing in your heart like blooms on a warm spring day. 

“He can actually be quite sweet, once you get to know him…you just have to give him a chance.”

The two of you remained quiet, the only coming from the distant chatter of other students in the more populated areas of the guest lounge.

“I’m safe to assume then that he is the reason you’ve started sprouting the roses?”

Your soft pink blush deepened as you nodded, picking at the small flower that began blooming on your cheek. 

“Yeah…”

“When will you confess, then?” You looked at Riddle in shock, who seemed confused at your distress. “What? It’s obvious that you have strong feelings for him, and even I notice how especially clingy he is around you.”

You shook your head, stuttering, “Well, yeah but that’s—”

“I’ve even heard him refer to you by name, he only does that with Jade and Azul you know?”

“You don’t understand Riddle.” You tried to interject, growing more flustered by the second. “I don’t think I could—”

Riddle continued, “As much as I disapprove, it does seem that you two genuinely bring out the best in each other, he does seem softer when you’re around—”

“Oh my—Riddle, stop—”

“—And you’ve gotten more outspoken, I remember how shy you were—”

“I’m begging you—”

“—Besides, according to the Queen of Heart’s rule number 478, any romantic feelings must be confessed approximately 12 days upon their discovery or the individual in question obligated to deny—”

“I said stop, Riddle!” You yelled at the top of your lungs before choking on rather large bouquet of lavender roses. Leaves and petals fluttered all around you as you continued to let out rough coughs, phlegm and saliva making a mess. 

Your yell startled the red-head so much that he simply started at you with a red face and thinned lips, too shocked to properly yell back at you for raising your voice indoors. 

Instead, he carefully placed his tea cup on the table between you two, folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. You on the other hand, peaked around the dividers separating your nook from the rest of the lounge. 

Ace and Deuce looked over in concern as you continued to cough out more roses, walking over before you shook your head and gave them a thumbs up before shooing them away and turning back to Riddle. 

“...sorry Riddle.” You whispered, looking at him nervously. “I didn’t mean to yell, don’t be mad?”

“It’s…fine.” He replied with a strained voice, taking a final inhale before opening his eyes again and making eye contact. “You shouldn’t have yelled, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Riddle sighed, relaxing into the soft lounge chair. Though he would deny when asked, the chair that he helped you pick for the guest room was is favorite spot to sit in, as it surprising comfortable. 

“May I ask why you refused? It’s quite obvious to anyone that you care for him immensely, for some forsaken reason, and I would even say it’s quite mutual.”

You avoided eye contact as he resumes sipping from his tea, a lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes for his post meal tea. 

“Yeah…that’s what the other first-years say too. Even Jade’s been dropping hints on mer courtship gifts.”

“Then? What’s stopping you? 

A pregnant pause was in the air as you open and closed your mouth, attempting to figure out what it was that scared you. 

“What if…he gets bored?” 

Riddle furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned in, barely able to hear you. 

“What if he what?” He sighed, a bit irritated. “Speak up Prefect, I know you can, you just did earlier.”

You groaned out, “What if he gets bored with me? I’m fun and interesting now, yeah!”

Your friend watched, and you began pacing around the room, holding his head in his hand as he watched and listened to you vent. 

“I’m just a silly little magicless human that got transported from another world! Big whoop! What happens when that novelty wears off? You've heard him, he only likes to do things that are fun and interesting to him, but I won’t always be fun and interesting, eventually he’ll get used to me and get bored.”

You turned to look at Riddle with a teary-eyed, but firm look. “He’s get bored and leave me. I can’t handle that! So I just won’t be with him. In fact, I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for him!”

Your voice began to crack as you stated your final sentence, snapping your mouth shut before you got begun crying. Riddle stood up and walked over to grasp your shoulders, looking at you with an understanding smile. 

“The sort of person that would abandon a lover simply because they’re bored never deserved one in the first place.” 

Riddle hummed in agreement as you sqeaked out a ‘really?’, giving you a soft pat on your shoulder. 

“Of course, I can’t say I don’t understand your hesitance, Floyd is…Floyd, after all. However, he is not my friend, you are. If you choose to forfeit your right to confess, then so be it.”

You smiled as he dragged you back to your seats, giggling as he continued, “I personally would say it’s no lost on your part, he’s not exactly the most prime candidate for your life partner should you be stuck here in Twisted Wonderland, may I suggest one of the many more suitable providers?”

“Pfft-like who? You?” you cackled as Riddle looked at you in mild horror. 

“Oh dear, of course not! I admire you as a friend, but I have much stricter standards for a partner.” He snapped his fingers in revelation. “Perhaps Ace or Deuce, you are rather close to them—”

“Ewwwww, pass. They’re like annoying brothers!” 

Riddle snorted before covering it up with a cough. “True. Trey?”

“If you’re just going to suggest your dorm members, maybe we should switch the conversation to something else.”

“Well I think my dorm produces only the best and most gentlemanly mages of all of NRC, so excuse me if I’m simply trying to give you the best options!” 

You and Riddle shared some laughter, a flash of teal catching the corner of your eye. But you saw nothing, so instead you focused back on Riddle as he began recounting his own winter break activities.

You remained quiet as you processed your thoughts, finding the lilac ceiling to be particularly interesting. 

Floyd also stayed quiet, still curled into your side as he breathed in your scent. You’re sure that with all of the flowers you’d started coughing up in the last few minutes, you smelled strongly of the lavender roses. 

“You know…I was gettin’ real mad when you wouldn’t confess to me.” Floyd whined, propping his head up with his hand to look at you and your pink face. 

“I thought it would be nice to get a cute confession out of my little shrimp,” He pinched your nose and forced you to look at him. “It be real fun! Like those cringy romcoms landfolk like so much!”

You replied, nasally due to your pinched nose, “Wait, is that why Jade was telling me about mer courting methods?”

“Haha! Yeah, I was hopin’ that you’d bring me a pretty seashell or somethin’ cute so Icould make fun of ya for later.”

You let out an indigent huff, smacking Floyd’s hand away as he laughed. 

“Really? So what made you change your mind?”

“Hearing ya talk to Goldfishie. It pissed me off that you’d think I’d toss you out like humans at sea with their trash.”

Floyd’s tone changed, looking  visibly annoyed as he continued. 

“Mers mate for life, and I wouldn’t choose someone I’d get bored with.” He sat up as his mood continued to sour. “It pissed me off, and it hurt, that my Little Shrimpy would think about me like that.”

“Oh, Floyd,” you sat up with him, guilt seeping in your bones as you looked at his angry face. Though, with the small tears forming in his eyes, Floyd looked more frustrated than anything. 

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think—it didn’t occur to me that you felt the same—”

“Well I do, and it’s not fair to me that you wouldn’t even give me a chance.” The way Floyd said that so matter of factly made you snap your mouth shut again, looking down at your lap instead. 

“I’m…sorry, Floyd. I wish I could make it up to you—”

Floyd interrupted, moody demeanor brightening suddenly. “No worries, I got just the solution!”

Crawling over back to you so that your back met the headboard again, Floyd grinned maliciously at your curled form. 

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say it. Those three little words.” Floyd held up three fingers to emphasize his point. “The ones that will make all those little flower go right away, the ones you need to say to me.”

You stiffened, leaning away from Floyd as he leaned in. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Say it, Y/N.” The use of your name startled your attention back to his face. He looked unusually serious, peering his heterochromic eyes into your own. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve mistaken him for his twin. 

You whispered, prolonging the inevitable, “What happened to Shrimpy?”

“Shrimpy was Shrimpy, but now your Y/N. And Y/N is Y/N…”

The two of you shared a smile as the distance between you two continued to close. You couldn’t remember what was so pressing earlier, why you were so anxious when the yellow eye of the man in front of you produced nothing but adoration from your heart. 

“Please…” From the uncharacteristic soft murmur to the eyes darting down to your lips and back to your eyes, Floyd drew you back in with a hypnotic ease that only the most alluring of mythical creatures could even hope to imitate. 

The two of you leaned in as you placed a hand on his chest, his own left hand coming to cradle your own. 

You craned your head back to hover your lips under his, uttering the words you swore to never let leave your mouth. 

“I-I…love you, Floyd Leech.”

A single lavender rose grew between your palms, as two longing hearts met as one.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi darling!~ (I'll immediately stop calling you that if you don't like it/don't feel comfortable lol) Lately your girlies been obsessing over the song 'Older' by Isabel LaRosa that's been going BADSHIT popular on tiktok so I thought I'd spill some thoughts~

Teacher!Vil X Yandere(ish)!Student!Yuu

Summary : Yuu who grew up with a bad father and gained heavy daddy issues gets attached to her teacher after he starts giving her the fatherly love and care she never got, always being nice and checking up on her. at first it's a simple silly crush on her teacher but after time it blooms into an obsession where she starts lusting after him and craves constant validation from him. In her eyes he's the perfect guy, he's older and has more experience, he could never treat her wrong. even though he may be colder from time to time she believes he has a soft spot for her. Poor Yuu when the teacher who she fell so madly inlove with doesn't return her feelings and begins distancing himself from her.... Or will he?..

(Your ending <3)

Surprise me sweetheart ♡

-Prev. 🥀🦋 / Now 🎋🪭

I really like that song, might become my newest obsession... 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Teacher Vil Schoenheit x Obsessed Student Reader 

Vil definitely has that aura of an unbiased but caring mentor much like Crewel. He’s confident and quaint, praising you in any capacity thrills most who receive it. Granted it’s sprinkled with underlying insults and a general lack of faith. But for someone like you, who can barely get your own father to even look at you it means so much more:

So of course you’ll obsess over him 

Putting him on a pedestal you’re willing to do anything for 

Study and pass his class

Tell on all the naughty potatoes in class

Even framing the professor he’s wanted gone since the beginning

“Well done.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, I’m quite pleased you’ve proven to be more helpful than the other useless potatoes.”

“T-thank you M-Mister Vil!”

He doesn’t stop you or even act like he doesn’t reciprocate

A few light touches

A kiss or two

A nibble of the ear

Your friends warn you  when they realize the love of your life is the degrading teacher of etiquette 

“This isn’t a good idea…(Y/n) he’s like much older than you.”

“So? That just means he has experience!”

“He’s thinking about retirement!”

“Early retirement!”

“Nooo!”

Nothing really stops you from your newfound love 

That is until he crashes the illusion himself 

“Oh~Roi du Poison, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the misguided doe?”

“Please, they’re just a tool I’m sharpening. A potato I’ve decided is worth polishing…for the time being.”

It destroys you

What meaning of life is there if he doesn’t even care about yours

You stop showing up to school

You won’t leave your room

“Where is (L/n)?”

“Pft wouldn’t you like to know!”

“We’re not telling you. You don’t deserve to even speak to them.”

“Fine if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll give your regards to them.”

“What?!” “Wait!” 

Unbeknownst to you Vil is very much in love with you 

But what did you expect?!

That he’d admit to actually being just as obsessed if not more so than you

He figured the best way to keep you close enough was by taking advantage of your emotional flaw

And while he wasn’t wrong, 

he realized the way it’s been going is all too risky

Nosy obstacles friends of yours, suspicious coworkers, gossiping potatoes

It’s just too risky so he’ll promptly resign putting time and energy into his former hobby

Taking the world by storm he’ll disappear

Giving you the so-called space you want so badly

But he’ll be watching

Watching as you mend yourself together only to fall apart again with every new tragedy

Your grades suspiciously slip

Your house is going to be foreclosed

Your father disappears one evening becoming a missing person’s case

And finally, your dear poor friends suddenly die

Catching some sickness after investigating something they refused to tell you about in  the forest

It’s there, where you’ve graduated and are at your lowest once again that he makes his move

“It’s been a while, (L/n).”

He’ll skew the events that day claiming the doe was someone else or that it was all a cover

And like that, he’ll slither back into your heart with his leash fully keeping you within his grasp

“For all that trouble, (Y/n) you’re irrevocably mine.”

[srslyscary]

Late Night Calls

contents/warnings: SFW, reader is written as she/her, slightly ooc, lowercase intended

including: felix x reader

note: inspired by “late night calls” by p1harmony. lately I haven’t been able to stop listening to that song, it’s really beautiful. seob’s part in it too is SO addicting. this was really last minute because I’ve been wanting to update but I recently started an 8hr nonstop shift, and I’ll be keeping that shift till next Friday. I hope you enjoy!

“Our secret late night calls. Dreamlike, beautiful sound of you and me.”

_

felix sat on the edge of his hotel bed, the afternoon sun streaming through the partially drawn curtains. his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and his fingers danced nervously over the screen of his phone. he took a deep breath, feeling the familiar flutter of excitement and nerves that always accompanied the prospect of hearing her voice. with a glance at the clock, he realized that back home, YN would just be winding down for the night.

fifteen hours. the time difference was brutal, but they'd found ways to make it work. their relationship was partly built on these late-night calls, stolen moments of connection amidst the chaos of touring. felix smiled, thinking about the countless nights they'd spent talking until the first light of dawn.

he swiped his phone screen and tapped on her contact, his heart skipping a beat as it started to ring. on the third ring, she picked up.

“hey, lix,” YN's voice was soft, a little sleepy, but full of warmth.

“hey, love,” felix replied, a wide smile spreading across his face. “oh- wait did I wake you?”

“no no, I was just lying here. how’s the tour going?”

felix leaned back against the headboard, picturing her lying in her bed, surrounded by pillows. “it’s going great. we had an amazing show today. STAYS were incredible. but I miss you.”

“i miss you too,” YN said, her voice tinged with longing. “it’s always hardest at night when you're not here.”

“i know, angel. I feel the same way. but these late-night calls, they keep me going. they remind me why I’m doing all this.”

YN laughed softly, the sound like a melody to felix’s ears. “you and your sweet words. you always know how to make me smile.”

felix’s heart swelled with affection. “i just speak the truth. how was your day?”

“it was good. busy, but good. i’ve been working on that project we talked about. i can’t wait for you to see it.”

“i can’t wait either. everything you do is amazing.”

they fell into a comfortable rhythm, talking about their days, sharing stories and little moments. felix loved these conversations, the way they could make him feel close to her even when they were thousands of miles apart.

after a while, felix heard YN stifle a yawn. “you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“a little,” she admitted. “but I don’t want to hang up yet.”

“stay with me, then,” felix said softly. “even if you fall asleep, just stay with me.”

“i’d like that.”

felix shifted on the bed, making himself more comfortable. “do you ever think about the future? I mean.. with us.”

“of course I do. why wouldn’t I silly?”

“not sure.. I guess that was a weird question.” felix said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. “i was thinking about the future, what it means for us.”

“and what do you think it means?” YN replied. “i’m curious cutie.”

“i don’t know what it means, that’s why I asked angel.“ felix laughed slightly, sighing after breathing in.

“sorry sorry,” YN said, her voice barely above a whisper. “you know.. your voice is my favorite sound.”

“really?” he took a second to think, smiling to himself. “of course, it brings me comfort in so many ways you probably wouldn’t know.”

felix smiled again, not saying much. they fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts, connected by the invisible thread of their love. after a while, felix spoke again.

“do you want me to sing for you?”

“yes, please. i’d actually really love that.” YN said, her voice filled with anticipation.

felix cleared his throat, closing his eyes as he began to sing. his voice was soft and tender, filled with emotion.

YN sighed contentedly. “you always know how to make everything better.”

felix smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. “that’s my goal, to always make you happy.”

“you do, love. you always do.”

they talked for a little while longer, their conversation growing quieter as YN's eyelids grew heavier. felix could hear her breathing becoming more even, a sure sign that she was drifting off to sleep.

“goodnight, angel,” felix whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

“‘night, lix. I love you.”

“I love you way more.”

felix stayed on the line, listening to her gentle breathing, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. these moments, these late-night calls, were the lifeline of their relationship, the threads that kept them connected despite the miles and time zones that separated them.

as he lay back on his bed, felix thought about the future. he knew that one day, they’d have more time together. but until then, he would cherish these calls, these stolen moments of intimacy that made everything worthwhile.

_

“Late night calls, so sweet. Just tell me you love me.”

[powderblueblood]

🎵 + Steve or Eddie please :)

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ IN MY BED - AMY WINEHOUSE

yours is a familiar face, but that don't make your place safe or you're fucking both steve and eddie on a casual basis and they're kinda clingy and jealous like peanut and butter

an: OH SHE'S SMUTTY. is this on either of the playlists i've made for steve or eddie. technically no. did i just hear it on shuffle and get inspired to write about having a hawkins slut era. technically yes. but the best part is you asked for steve or eddie and you got both, anon!!

MINORS FUCK OFF - warnings: heavy smut from the get-go; unprotected p-in-v, allusions to cunnilingus and fellatio, public sex, semi-mean!reader, leaving steve with blue balls, forceful!eddie, some mild degradation (use of the word slut, etc), hope u enjoy and hope we can coerce them into a threesome some day. it would save reader so much time

word count: 3.6k

You can't keep playing with boys like that, y'know. Somebody's going to get hurt.

As long as that somebody isn't you, you're pretty far past the point of giving a fuck.

You had emerged from the painful chrysalis of Hawkins adolescence with a great rack and a huge fucking chip on your shoulder. So much time wasted, lingering in the limbo of awkwardness and timidity, not even with the credit of being humiliated by your peers. You were glossed over, completely unnoticed by the opposite sex (and even the same sex that you'd daringly fantasize about in the dark of night).

You spent so much time sitting with your hands stuck shyly between your legs that it was only right that King Steve Harrington is now pleadingly prying them apart.

"What time did you say you had to leave, again?" he says, voice strained against the shell of your ear. Steve's fingers are making dents in the softness of your inner thighs as he spreads your legs further and futher away from one another. You're sitting pretty on his kitchen table, a place you'd chosen on purpose because from there, you could flash him the bright blue of your panties under your short, short work skirt.

Work skirt was a loose term, but you found you made better tips at the Hideout when you dressed more scantily than you'd like. Something something clientele, something something dinner and a show.

Something your co-worker had said.

All you knew was whenever you showed up at Steve's dressed for a bar shift, it drove him crazy. It drew him right to you, moth to flame, fly to spider's web, turning him all desperate and whining and eager to please. Like a dog.

"Mmm," you hum, glancing at your watch, "'bout fifteen."

You loved driving Steve crazy. Thrived on it– and part of it was a private revenge fantasy. All those years gone by using him as shower nozzle masturbation material, and now you were the one he couldn't get enough of.

His nose teases at your lips as he continues to massage into your thighs. And you admit, he's good with his hands– deliberate pressure, making the wetness at your core spread.

"Call off. Say you're sick," and his right hand is pulling at the gusset of your panties. Your hips keen toward him, an automatic response, and he strokes a knuckle down the glistening slit of your lips.

"Sick how," you ask, not really desiring an answer, talking just to talk as you web your fingers into his hair. You've noticed that the only time he's not precious about it is when you're about to fuck. Then, you can muss up his hairdo all you want.

"I couuuld," he murmurs, "make you scream my name so loud--"

The middle and ring fingers on Steve's right hand sinks inside you, down to the knuckle. You swallow a little moan, but it strangles itself out anyway.

"--that they think you have laryngitis."

You skitter out a snort, despite the fact that he's stroking you real nice with his fingers. It's so silly; it's exactly the kind of thing you'd come to expect from Steve. You used to overhear Nancy Wheeler in the hallways being all, you're an idiot, Steve Harrington. Tone dripping in affection. And you got it now, you did.

"Come on," he says, tongue ghosting at your neck as the pad of a finger circles that drop of nerves between your legs, "Take the day." He swallows. "Stay with me."

But you weren't his fuckin' girlfriend.

To be completely straight, you'd been skirting around this thing for a while– the moony-eyed way Steve would look at you after he'd cum, the trapping you in the bedsheets with peppered kisses, the recreational sports games he'd keep inviting you to and you'd keep bailing on. You couldn't even remember if he played baseball or basketball. And you didn't... care.

"I just don't know why you work in that dump," Steve says, attempting to stick a little edge on that moment of softness. But his fingers had stopped moving inside you, which quite simply would not do.

"Because," you say, you with the hard edge, you with the steeliness he can't seem to get enough of, "some of us," your hand reaches down to clamp onto his, "don't have a choice what dumps we work in," and you begin to rut onto his hand, grinding into his palm. In order to get this show on the road, you add in one pretty little groan. "... your highness."

Your slickness makes an obscene squelch and Steve's jaw cocks open, his blown-out pupils meeting yours. "Fuckin'... shit. I'd pay to keep you here if you promised to do that all day."

And you know he'd love that, to make you a kept woman. But Hawkins rich isn't kept woman rich, and you've got bills to pay.

"That can be arranged," you whisper, biting at his finely sculpted jaw, "but if you wanna put your cock in me today, you better make it fast. Those beers ain’t gonna sling themselves."

“Yeah—yeah.” Steve fumbles, aiding you in pulling off your panties. You wrap them around his wrist for safekeeping, because this skirt is way too tiny to go commando in. Flash your ass at your co-worker and you’d never live it down.

Steve unbuckles and yanks his khakis down his thighs, a remarkably unsexy clothing choice on anyone else but him. You like him the most like this— pliable, willing to do whatever you say.

You hitch your knees up, bracing the heels of your tennis shoes against the edge of the table. Steve moves to hitch your skirt up, set his hands at ten and two on your hips, but his fingers travel upward to your shirt. It’s this threadbare Janis Joplin thing, another strategic choice. It’s tight enough that you needn’t bother with a bra and also tight enough that any passing wind chill makes your nipples stand to attention. It’s hot in here, so the way they strain against the material is all Steve’s doing.

“Take this off?” It’s a request. Sometimes you wish it’d be a demand. Anyway. You pull it over your head and the way he kneads at your tits makes up for it completely. His tongue, hot and strong and ready, laves over a nipple and you shiver.

“Steve, babe,” you whine, “tick tock.”

You reach down and grab his cock, sprung free from his boxers like a jailbreak, and guide it inside you.

His dick is long and lithe like the rest of him, with this perfectly bulbous tip that caresses that pretty spot, that one that makes you open-mouth moan into his shoulder, right on entrance.

Steve rocks his hips into yours, one of his big hands cupping at your jaw. “So nice, right?” he says, licking into your mouth.

“So fucking nice.” But now is not the time for one of Steve Harrington’s classic slow jams, a drawn-out fuckfest that would ordinarily leave you rosy and blissed out. Now, you need him—

“Harder,” you breathe, “fuck me harder. Faster, baby, please. I need— I have to get you off before I leave.”

Steve is a giver, but talk like that makes him feral. He'll rarely ever take control with you, rather wait for your permission to let him take control. Which is nice, you guess, consent and all that but it kind of snuffs the fire out for you sometimes. The process takes a little longer than it needs to.

But god, when he gets into a rhythm, there's no stopping him. He guides you (when he could have shoved you) back onto your elbows as his length drills in and out of you. He bears over you with that slyly muscular frame, face buried in your breasts, keeping up a relentless pace that almost, almost has your legs seizing, almost–

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Fuck!” and it’s too sharp a curse to be one of pleasure. Steve is lost in you entirely, so much so that you have to tug at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get his focused attention. “Stevie, I gotta go.”

“No–fuck, come on, I’m so close.” You’ve fucked Steve Harrington enough times to know that he’s nowhere near close, that he’s got a position or two left in him before knockout. Your square stare communicates this perfectly; but he doesn’t stop, his pace just slows. Achingly slows, the way he loves to do when you’re right at the apex of an orgasm and he wants to hear the extended version of your desperate pleading. “You can be late.”

“No, I can’t,” you grumble, palming around for your discarded shirt. “I’m opening. Drunks are--mmm--lining up around the block to see me.” And my goddamn co-opener is always late. “Down, boy.” 

“Fii-ii-iine,” he groans, voice cracking as his heartbeat slows in his chest. You can just about feel it thumping from here. He eases himself out of you, but doesn’t make any swift movements away from you. Pink lips, so pink that you’d once hornily remarked they were almost the same color as your pussy, pout as he stares up at you from beneath his bushy brows. God, he looks pathetic. 

He’s so fucking hot. 

You unwind your bright blue underwear from his wrist slowly. “You mad at me?”

“Little bit,” he murmurs, “Leaving someone with blue balls is like, a serious health hazard. You know that, don’t you?”

“Forgot you were pre-med, Steve.” Oh, that man is not pre-anything other than pre-cumming. 

“If you get back here and I don’t answer the door because I’m dead from unfulfilled horniness, you’ve only got yourself to blame.” 

“That is, assuming I’ll be back?” This little exercise in reminding Steve of the fluidity of your relationship earns you the most heartbreaking little scoff. You can’t help but hold his hand to your now-reclothed chest and peck a kiss to his lips. “Kidding. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” 

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“I’ll be thinking about finishing you off for my whole shift, if that helps,” you hum against his mouth, which is already hungrily looking for more of you. 

“How ‘bout I pick you up after?”

“Mmm, I don’t know.” Look, as much as you like Steve, and you do, you like him lots, you really need a night to recharge your social battery after the shift you’re about to have. 

Especially when your co-worker comes sneaking in the door a whole 15 minutes late. 

“Hey!” he whispers, making a whole pantomime of shiftily stepping inside, eyes darting around underneath his curly bangs, “Bev around?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s still on that cruise, Eddie.” 

“And thank fuck for that, am I right?!” A ringed hand comes down hard on the bartop, making your glass of off-brand cola rattle. Something inside you clenches as Eddie Munson beams down at you. “God bless the Indiana Sweepstakes.” 

You chuckle out a little mm-hmm! and return to the crossword book someone had abandoned here months ago. When it’s slow, you and Eddie try and fail to figure out the clues, which has lead to interspersed shittalking, which has led to flirting. Which has led to… other things. On the clock and off. 

The natural course of which a river flows. 

Speaking of wet things, you cross one leg over the other. You hadn’t, as it happened, stopped thinking about Steve’s absence between your thighs since you’d gunned your shitty car out of his building’s driveway. Though, the closer you got to The Hideout, the less that absence became about Steve and more became about… well, anyone. 

What? You’re a red-blooded American woman with a healthy sex drive. 

And you’ve seen how Eddie Munson handles the wheel of a car. Forceful. Relentless. Wild.

“Figured out where I know you from, by the way,” he says, snatching the bar towel from your shoulder and throwing it over his own. 

“Hey! Those things are in short supply, asshole, get your own.”

“Finders keepers,” Eddie smirks, “And– Spanish class, sophomore year.” 

Cringing falsely, you toss your hands up in surrender. “Ay papi. You got me.”

“You told me you were from Oregon, you little liar.” 

“And you believed me, right?” you shrug. “Not surprising that you didn’t clock me right away. I was kind of unremarkable.”

Eddie squidges past you in the narrow space behind the bar, leaning around you for something– for what, you don’t really register, because he lingers there a little longer than he needs to. You can feel his breath on your neck. “Certainly not unremarkable now, huh?” His fingers ghost at your waist. “Nice shirt.”

See, the thing you’ve found with Eddie is he doesn’t waste any time. 

He’s a lifer at The Hideout, worked here all through high school, right up to now. After your first couple of shifts, you locked yourselves in the bar for what he called a peer review. It only took a couple of shots of whiskey between you before he was on his knees, eating you out from your seat on the barstool. You ground yourself onto the slope of his nose, the tip making imperfect but workable contact with your clit as his tongue dove past your lips. Eddie had gripped onto you like a man possessed, determined to make you choke out his name through your orgasm. 

But Eddie had never fucked you. He’d eaten you like a last meal, sure. He’d fingered you against the rough brick exterior of the bar, yep. You’d even given him road head the couple of times he’d given you a ride home after work, dawn breaking over Hawkins and Eddie struggling to drive in a straight line toward your apartment block. But he’d never fucked you. 

“Thanks,” you respond, tilting your head upwards to look at him. “Guy I was fucking before I came in sure seemed to think so.”

Eddie’s mouth curls up into this devilish little grin. “You tryin’ to make me jealous, telling me you’re gettin’ dicked down before work?”

“To his credit, dicked down is,” you sigh, “a little bit of an understatement.”

“Couldn’t finish the job?”

“Not his fault. My alarm went off.”

“And you’re so punctual.”

“Always.” 

Eddie’s hand tightens around its place on your waist, dimpling into the soft flesh. “So you’re left all… wanting, is the conclusion I’m coming to.” 

“Yeah…” and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. From behind you, he angles his hips against your ass, a suggestion of a push upward. The material of your skirt catches, gathers and shifts against him so you can just about feel the swell of him on your almost bare ass. 

“Oh, you little slut,” he says, and fuck, if you don’t love the way he says it. The hardness on the letter ‘t’. “Coming in here all dick-hungry. You’re asking me for a favor, then?”

“Least you could do,” you say lowly, “for leaving me hanging in here all the time.” 

“Right,” Eddie nods, his hand travelling toward the hem of your skirt, “The opening rush is crazy around here.”

Ain’t a sinner in the bar but the two of you. 

Eddie’s fingers crawl onto your thigh, reaching higher and higher, and you nearly let out a pitiful little moan in anticipation. All you want, all you want is to plant your hands on the bar and have him drive his cock into you, ringed fingers bruising the soft flesh of your hips. Chained jeans rattling. 

So you move his hand to the waistband of your panties, not that it’s far off. A suggestion of pull these fucking things down.

Eddie’s eyes flare wide. Anybody could come in. Are you sure about this?

But you’re so fucking wet that a job like this isn’t going to take long. He might not cum, but you sure will. You sure fucking will, if he keeps looking at you like that. Like he wants to wrap a ringed hand around your throat and fuck you so good, you’ll forget even the regulars’ orders. 

“Eddie,” you say, purposely wiggling against him as your panties fall to the floor, “C’mon. You’re telling me you’ll let me jerk you off in the keg room but you haven’t thought about how wet it makes me? How much I want you to just–!”

“Shut up,” he says, “Fuckin’ shut up. Bend over.”

Your pulse quickens, mouth popping open. 

“I said,” Eddie starts, hands going to his silver belt, “bend over, slut.” 

And boy, do you ever comply– Jesus. You’ve never seen him like this before, half-mad and fully hard. Usually, Eddie’s the kind of guy who’ll joke his way through a hookup. There’ll be flashes here and there, sure. He’s got no problem telling you where to put it and when. But this…

You bend at the waist, leaning against the bar for support and scoot your legs apart. A great idea on your part, you toss a look over your shoulder– Eddie’s pumping the length of himself, his free hand roaming over the curve of your ass. He notices you looking and gives it a solid smack!, fat jiggling on the recoil. The sight of that makes his eyes keen back in his head a little, a smile dancing at his lips. 

“You better be ready to dance,” he says, fingers teasing at your slit before he enters you in one slow, slow, stretching movement. “We got customers coming in, any minute now.” 

Eddie breathes out a little oh god! in response to feeling just how tight you are around him. He feels exactly as you expected him to– you knew he was big from taking him in your mouth but the girth of him makes you wince a little. Once he’s moving against your honeyed walls, you’re in fucking heaven. He’s thick and solid and this close to throbbing; he’d been waiting for this as long as you had. 

“Don’t worry,” he strains reassuringly, palm coming in harsh contact with your ass cheek again, “You’re cummin’ first, sweetheart.”

The brazen moan, the sound all jittery from Eddie’s rutting into your pussy, seemed to echo in the empty bar. 

God, the acoustics really were great in here. 

The sound of his balls slapping against your gorgeous, plush ass joins the symphony and the sting of his force hitting your soft spot makes your eyes water. You want to look at him again– you have to. Your eyes go over your shoulder and Eddie’s there, fucking beautiful under the bar light’s glow and transfixed on the way your body’s moving against him. He doesn’t need any encouraging. His hand reaches for your throat, holding your chin in place so you can watch him fuck you, so he can watch your pretty face contort as you crest your orgasm. 

Your cunt tightens around him and the sounds he starts making are nothing short of obscene– guttural, growling, snarling. “Fucking getting what you want now, aren’t you, baby girl? All you needed–uhnh–was my fucking–fat cock to cum all over–”

And it’s hitting you in waves you’d gladly drown in, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. You reach down to flick at your swollen clit, half-regretting you’re not drawing out the contractions of your pussy a little bit longer. “Good fucking girl, give me everything you got–” 

“Cum inside me, Eddie, fucking please–” you cry, right over the crest of your orgasm. 

“Huh?” He barely registers what you’ve said, talking you through the arresting drown of your orgasm. But then he gets it, and his eyes do that siren flare thing that they do. “Really? Yeah?”

“Yeah, fucking– yeah!” you yell, a little louder than you mean to, “Fill me, please, I want you drippin’ out of me all night–” 

That’s enough for him to jerk and shudder, his noises becoming tauter, his thrusts becoming shorter, bottoming out inside you in a warm gush. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

“Fuck,” you blink, moving Eddie’s hand from your throat as he eases himself out of you. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, pulling the bar towel from his shoulder to wipe himself off. “Fu-uuck.”

You turn back to face him and snatch the towel, patting between your own legs. 

“Gross,” he chides.

“Finders keepers, asshole,” you giggle, breathless. And satisfied. That giggle bubbling out of you is contagious, because now Eddie’s giggling too. Peals and peals of silly laughter, fizzing out of you both like phosphate. That was fun. Eddie’s fun. 

“Might wanna put those back on,” he points to the ground once he’s caught his breath. Oh right. Your panties.

“Yeah, I–”

But then the bar door swings open, your name called out through the entrance. Wait, is that–

“--fuckin’ Steve Harrington?” Eddie mutters, leaning over the bar to get a better look. 

“Babe,” Steve says, catching sight of you with a little slip of red leather in his hand. “You forgot your…”

He pauses, Maybe he catches that you and Eddie are in a state of post-coital undoneness. I mean, the pink cheeks, the ruffled hair, Eddie’s half-secured belt may be a tip off, but…

“...wallet.”

But where a guilty feeling ought to have settled in, there’s no boats in your damn harbor. Steve Harrington, while lovely, was not your fuckin’ boyfriend. You pluck the wallet out of his hand as his eyes narrow, looking toward Eddie. Eddie, for his part, is putting the puzzle pieces together. 

So it was Steve’s place you were running off to after shifts, Steve’s new car you were jumping out of when you arrived sometimes.

And he looks a little… jealous.

“Thanks, Stevie,” you say, blowing him a little kiss with the wallet. “You wanna drink while you’re here?”

“Nah, I– I gotta… I’m jettin’. So. Later? Later.” Steve Harrington, still struggling to be the epitome of cool. And failing miserably.

You give him a little wave and watch him, fondly, as he leaves. God bless Banana Republic and everything those should-be-fuck-ugly khakis have done for you. In your peripheral vision, Eddie appears next to you. Leaning on the bar. Glaring.

“What’s the matter, Munson?” you simper. “Cat got your dick?”

[moxfirefly]

"Of course I want them. I want them so much I can barely breathe but I'm not going to force it. If they come to me, it'll be on their terms. Not mine."

For Donnie or Mikey x reader (F) please? Maybe reader is the one saying that line 👀 jealous, fluff or smut scenario, you can choose! Thank you for opening your requests, you always deliver great pieces! ♥️💫

Oh this line hits! And I think Mikey is the guy for it and I think I’ll tweak it a bit if you don’t mind. Thank you for your kind words! Means a lot 🖤

Rated Feels

Mikey wanted to believe that his eyes were deceiving him at most, maybe not working at worst.

Because he really saw some peculiar stares on your behalf.

This whole crush thing was trickier now as an adult. When he was younger, crushing after April had been easy and fleeting.

Now? Some days he couldn’t chase away your scent to safe his life, he couldn’t remember what life before your proximity to him used to be. When had a song sounded better than the ringing of your name, carefully collected consonants and vowels crafted to melt on his tongue.

What had life been before the ache of watching you leave? The insane joy of watching you come home to grace his presence with honeyed bliss?

He felt silly, somewhat dumb, over all hopeless.

This all felt like a curse some days too. Not having the luxury of being topside with you, getting to experience the city night through you.

The wind picked up, cold little pin prick reminders of what he was. Mikey was fond of this roof, maybe because your building was across it, maybe because if he squinted hard enough he could see what your little life in your little apartment was like, and how he could fit into it.

“You plan on sulking all of patrol?” Raph’s deep baritone carried the chilly air as he sat on the ledge.

“I’m not sulking, that’s your job bro.” He was hugging his knees, chasing away the chilly air or maybe because he was truly sulking.

“That broad’s got you bent outta shape, you never got like this with Ape.” Because that had been childish puppy love, and somehow Raph couldn’t see that this ached for real.

It especially ached because there were too many moments where he swore you’d say something first, that you’d cave in and say something about the elephant in the room.

“I like her, she’s—she’s different.” It doesn’t do it justice but he doesn’t want to get mushy with Raph right now, not when his head isn’t cooperating and his heart feels heavy.

“Different alright, wants to hang around with a brat like you, laughs at your shitty jokes, caught her staring at your biceps once.” Raph numbered the facts on each of his fingers, nonchalant but aware of the gas he was pouring.

“Where ya going with this dude? Aside from giving me hope.” And hope was a tragic little word for their kind, something more akin to a light sprinkle of salt on a small wound.

“What I’m saying is, just go after her, tell her the truth. Ya want her, right? She probably wants ya.” Raph popped a toothpick in his mouth, an old habit dying too slowly.

“Of course I want her. I want her so much I can hardly breathe but I’m not going to force it. If she comes to me, it’ll be on her terms. Not mine.” It hurt to say it, it hurt to admit out loud that this was a luxury he couldn’t afford due to what he was.

Raph’s gaze soften, it wasn’t fun seeing his baby brother going through something that had his head spinning this badly. He reached out and clamped a hand on his shoulder, an affectionate squeeze of sympathy.

Mikey watched the building, swore he saw the light on your apartment come alive. Flooding the modest little living room, he could picture you tossing your stuff with a huff and a sigh, before settling into the normalcy of your routine. He felt his phone vibrate, pulling it out to see your name on the screen. It was enough to lift the black cloud.

Not enough to chase the storm away in his chest.

“Hey, angel, outta work finally?” He greeted you, that perfectly timed sigh of ‘fuck yes’ not (yes) sending a jolt through him.

“Are you still out on patrol? I got those disgusting heart attack inducing burgers from the bodega you like, wanna come over when your done being a superhero?” You cooed affectionately, he could hear the rustling of the bay.

Raph watched the smile, a smile only you were capable of sculpting out of Mikey.

He hoped, he hoped for a chance.

A chance at you two enjoying this little life.