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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner.

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store.

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship.

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.”

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks.

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on.

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum.

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5.

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for.

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth.

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison.

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm.

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have.

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera.

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate.

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself.

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around.

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking.

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly.

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life.

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables.

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts.

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room.

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide.

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue.

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp.

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own.

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today.

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints.

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied.

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

“That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day.

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face.

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is.

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom.

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight.

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust.

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl.

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing.

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch.

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence.

taglist:

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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tinyluvs · 11 months

Note

i literally just found your account today and your spencer writings have me kicking my feet and twirling my hair-but not the point

all i’m going to say is: baking with spencer and you trying to add things in without measuring and he’s shook to his core

thank you so much n absolutely, he would lose his mind

"i think we have everything we need now," your boyfriend says, looking over the ingredients spread out over the counter. you hum, which makes him look up, "stop eating those, we need them," he snatches a packet of chocolate chips out of your hands

you scoff, "actually, those are the ones we need," you wave an unopened bag at him, "these are extras" you attempt to snatch the bag out of his hands but he moves, forcing you to fall forwards and off of the counter, where you were sat

spencer chuckles at you but steadies you with an arm around your waist. you shove at him lightly when he moves away, putting the chocolate chips on top of the fridge freezer, where he knows you can't reach

"that's so rude," you comment, squinting at him. he dips to kiss at your forehead, whilst rolling his eyes before reaching over to turn the oven on to preheat

he claps his hands together before looking around his kitchen, "where is the recipe?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing across his forehead

you shrug, "i don't have one," spencer gawps at you, like you're crazy. he shakes his head and takes off out of the room, "where are you going," you huff but don't move to find out

"i'm finding one," he shouts back from the other end of the apartment. his long legs getting him there much faster than you ever could

he eventually comes back, book in hand, "you have a recipe book?" you hum, amused. his apartment is filled with books but you've never seen a cook book

"yeah, it used to be my mom's" he says, flicking through the pages, "here we go," he scans over the page and then starts rummaging through his cupboards

you roll your eyes at him and then grab a bowl and the bag of flour. gently, you start pouring the powder, eyeballing it as you go. you've made chocolate chip cookies hundreds of times, winging it every single time

"so the recipe says-" spencer turns around with scales in his hands, stopping in his tracks when he see's you, "hey, stop, what are you doing?" he shrieks, grabbing at your hands, stopping you from pouring

you frown at him, "making cookies? what does it look like i'm doing?" huffing at him you manage to shake his hands off of you and in the process, sprinkle flour over both of your hands

"we need to measure it," he scoops the bowl off of the counter, once again holding it out of your reach

"no we don't," you groan and his jaw drops, "what? i've made these so many times spence, i could do it with my eyes closed!" you press your hands onto his shirt, smirking when he ends up with two perfect prints of flour on him

spencer stares at you and you stare back, arms crossing over your chest, "we have to do it properly," he says with a slight huff

bumping him out of the way you reach into one of his cupboards, getting out another mixing bowl, "fine, you make it with the recipe," you put the bowl on the counter, "i'll do it without"

your boyfriend shakes his head, "no, that's stupid"

loudly you groan, throwing your head back slightly, "we have enough ingredients, i promise you mine will turn out the same as yours, if not better" you say smugly, snatching the flour back from him

he watches you for a minute before giving in, not wanting to back down from the challenge. silently he moves around the kitchen, weighing out sugar, flour, butter and grabbing the right amount of eggs, side eyeing you occasionally to see what you're doing

"see, they look the exact same!" you point at the two identical trays of cookie dough, all rolled into small balls, ready to go into the oven

spencer slides the trays into the oven, humming like he's not fully convinced yours are going to be any good. "we'll see," he says, winding up a timer

you hop back up onto the counter, watching him collect the bowls and utensils before dumping them into the sink, "can i have the chocolate chips back now please?"

he grabs them off of the fridge freezer and then moves to stand between your legs, "kiss first please, honey" he hums, dipping forwards to kiss you three times

"thanks" you giggle afterwards, already tipping the chocolate pieces into your hand. you push a couple into spencer's open mouth, he nods appreciatively while rolling his sleeves up, ready to wash up

when the timer goes off you startle slightly, which makes spencer laugh as he gets the trays out, pushing them onto the counter. you reach for a spatula, taking one from each tray to cool down faster

"ready?" you ask once they have, holding your cookie up to your mouth, he mimics your actions. he nods once before you tuck into your treats, "don't know what you were so worked up about, tastes great"

"let me try," he says, opening his mouth so that you can slot the rest of it into his mouth, "what?" he screeches, still chewing, "yours taste better than mine, how?"

"magic, angel, it's real you know" you giggle, bouncing up to kiss melted chocolate away from his bottom lip

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #❥ spencer reid drabbles #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ spencer reid #❥ my spencer works

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cheollipop · 1 year

Text

gentle

navi | taglist

pairing: owner!seonghwa x bunny!reader x fox!wooyoung

w.c.: 2.6k

tags: smut, fluff, hybrid au, fem reader

desperate and whiny, your heat pheromones triggered wooyoung's feral instincts, forcing seonghwa to step in and teach him how to treat you properly.

warnings: dom!seonghwa, switch!wooyoung, sub!reader, heat cycles (f), unprotected sex (👎), multiple creampies, multiple orgasms (f&m), breeding kink, use of restraints (leash and collar), nipple play, hwa is referred to as daddy a few times, brat taming (kinda, wooyoung is too eager for his own good), cum eating/swallowing, cum everywhere, so much cum, wooyoung used to be a stray so he struggles with controlling his animalistic instincts, nicknames (baby, bunny, darling; youngie; hwa, daddy), aftercare

A/N: I've had this idea in my notes for quite a while now, and I've wanted to write for this pair for just as long, so I'm really happy I finally got it done :"" happy reading!

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

*₊°。 ❀°。 *₊。 ❀°。• *₊°。 ❀。 *₊°。 ❀°。

A silent home was an unusual occurrence. In most cases, Seonghwa came back to a brightly-lit apartment, it’s two other occupants racking up the electricity bill in his absence. This time, however, it was pitch black, the living room illuminated by the single lamp shining through his open bedroom door. He looked around as he walked through the room, taking in the mayhem that had broken out between the four walls: a broken vase by the coffee table, water pooling over the carpet where a bundle of roses laid lifelessly; the couch cushions thrown haphazardly around the room, only a few left in their place, Tom chasing Jerry on the TV across from it. Walking further into the house, he noted the untouched food bowls by the kitchen’s entryway and finally allowed worry to flood his system. Seonghwa was used to his two hybrids’ rapid footsteps as they barrelled their bodies towards him the second he walked through the door, climbing his body and nuzzling into his clothes. He was used to empty bowls and whiny pleads for dinner. And despite their playfulness, he was used to coming home to a fairly clean apartment, perhaps being met with wide, glassy eyes in case they had broken something while he was at work.

A soft whimper slipped through his open bedroom door and Seonghwa’s legs moved on their own, panickily rushing through the doorway and halfway into the room before stopping. His eyes widened and his leather work bag slipped through limp fingers as he scanned the scene unfolding before him – the fox hybrid covering you with his body and consequently folding yours in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he bucked his hips into your used cunt. Seonghwa’s eyes trailed down to study where you connected, the vulgar squelch of his cum being relentlessly fucked into you, streaming out of your hole and soaking your bunny tail, the ball of fur vibrating weakly at the overstimulation.

Seonghwa had taken Wooyoung in after spotting him dragging an injured leg along the side of a busy road, nursing him back to full health and realising he had gotten too attached to the cheeky fox to let him go. You had been shy and dismissive of the curious hybrid when he first entered your home, perhaps even a little jealous when Seonghwa spent a little too much time caring for him rather than doting on you. It took the fox a few days to open up to you, and only a little over a week for you to realise that Seonghwa was right: It was hard not to love Wooyoung. It surprised Seonghwa at first when you suddenly became accepting of the other hybrid’s presence, welcoming the insistent kisses he pressed to your twitching nose and cuddling up to him on the carpet where the afternoon rays warmed the luxury wool.

After a few months of the stray fox’s move-in, Seonghwa’s surprise faded into fondness whenever he found you and Wooyoung all over each other. But this? This was unusual – Wooyoung’s tail stiff and pointed horizontally, a deep growl muffled through his gritted teeth as he ploughed his cock into you, emptying load after load into your sopping heat. You met Seonghwa’s eyes, your face turned sideways on the tear-soaked pillow, the bottom half of your face wet with a mixture of Wooyoung’s drool and your own.

Your lips widened and closed, stuttering out a few broken moans before managing to form barely-coherent words. “I, Hwa- hnngh! I-I can’t-”

The tone of your voice – desperate and pleading – broke Seonghwa out of the trance he was in, quickly crossing over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Wooyoung to pull him away from you, earning himself a brute growl from the hybrid. Seonghwa watched as pearly ribbons painted your lower belly and mound, Wooyoung’s cock twitching as he came again, immediately standing back up and Seonghwa had to tighten his grip around him to keep him off you. Wooyoung’s gaze fixed on your fluttering hole, his tongue rolling out and drool dripping onto his lap while his eyes followed the trail of cum streaming out of your cunt and pooling over the sheets where you laid.

For a few seconds, Seonghwa did the same, but he quickly tuned out the throbbing in his work pants to tend to you. He was quick to take notice of the familiar flush coating your cheeks, your eyes glazed over and unfocused and your round tail twitching every few seconds – signs he was all too familiar with. You were in heat.

“Oh, darling,” he cooed, moving Wooyoung away from you and sitting down on the edge of the bed by your waist. He cradled your face with one palm and used the other to push your hair off your face. “Your pheromones must be affecting Youngie… Are you okay?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you blinked a few times before nodding, your whole body tingling under Seonghwa’s touch. “I feel so full, Hwa…”

Seonghwa’s eyes moved down your body until they reached your core: your index and middle fingers spreading you open to show him Wooyoung’s cum overflowing from your fluttering hole as it clenched desperately around nothing. He managed one breathy curse before Wooyoung’s head lowered onto you to lap up his own release, a sudden cry leaving your lips as you grabbed at your owner’s sleeve. Seonghwa tore away from your grip to move the hybrid off you again, grabbing him by the back of his neck and angling his head to face him.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa warned, steadying him with a cautionary look.

The stray turned docile at his owner’s tone, his ears falling flat against his head and his tail drooping. “B-but… ‘want bunny to have my kits. ‘Gotta make sure she’s full of Youngie’s cum…”

Swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, Seonghwa ignored the fully-formed tent in his pants – twitching and throbbing when his eyes flitted down to your dripping core – and relaxed his hold on Wooyoung’s neck. “You have to be gentle with her, Youngie. You can’t be that rough or she might get hurt,” he smoothed his palm over the fox’s head, lightly scratching behind his ear.

Seonghwa was too distracted admiring the soft blush tinting Wooyoung’s cheeks to notice your hand moving up his leg, inhaling sharply when you cupped his clothed bulge. They both looked down at you – nuzzling your cheek into Seonghwa’s thigh while your hand worked over the hard outline of his cock.

“Can daddy show Youngie how I should be treated?”

Wooyoung leaned forward just enough for the leash to tug on the collar around his neck and restrict his airflow, pulling back and panting heavily before leaning forward again, lips parted and drool pooling on the sheets between his legs. He fluttered his eyes shut and welcomed the steady rhythm of skin-on-skin echoing between the four walls, knowing Seonghwa’s cock was drilling his cum into your tight cunt. He opened his eyes again to take in the sheen of sweat covering both your bodies, Seonghwa’s hips relentlessly slamming into yours. It was as though your pheromones were affecting him too despite him being human; you could tell he was barely holding on, trying to maintain a sliver of control over the situation to keep you grounded.

Having spent years with Seonghwa, nothing satiated your need to be bred like he did, grinding his cock into you in a way that sent hot waves of pleasure soaring through your body and fogging up your brain. All you could think about was Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa – his fingers gripping the soft skin of your thighs, pushing one down onto the mattress and holding the other around his waist; his mouth periodically pressing against yours, swallowing up the soft melody you sang for him before peppering kisses all over your flushed face. Your whole body shuddered under his when he drove you into another orgasm, praise rolling off his tongue, his voice sweeter than honey while he guided you through your nth high.

“Fuck, good girl,” Seonghwa praised, brushing his palm over the side of your head and dipping down to peck the tip of your twitching nose. “More, baby?”

You nodded desperately, using the leg around his waist to push him closer and further into you.

"So desperate to be bred," he chuckled. "Wanna be fucked full of my cum, hm?"

“Please, please-”

He silenced your whines with a harsh thrust, the corners of his lips tugging upwards when your features relaxed, ecstasy flooding through your body. He looked to the side, taking notice of Wooyoung’s dick – the tip an angry red, leaking an obscene amount of precum – and how his eyes fixed on where the two of you connected, transfixed by his owner’s cock pumping his own cum into your stretched hole, pushing some out to dampen the soiled sheets under you.

Seonghwa let go of your hip to unclip the leash from Wooyoung’s collar, instead grabbing the leather and tugging the stray down to your chest. He didn’t waste a second before latching his mouth onto your perked-up nipple and sucking harshly. Trailing his lips over the slope of your breast, Wooyoung whispered against the slick skin and smiled slyly at the shiver that shook your body, “Gonna be so pretty when they’re swollen with milk.”

His hands remained behind his back – following the firm instructions Seonghwa had given him while securing his leash to the bedhead – digging them into his lower back as he resisted the urge to touch you. Instead, he licked his way back to your nipple, taking it between his teeth and biting down a little too hard, the sharp pain pulling a broken cry from your lips. Long fingers tangled in the hair at the crown of his head and tugged harshly, making Wooyoung face upwards to meet Seonghwa’s burning irises.

“What did I say earlier? Are you gonna be a good boy and listen to me?” Seonghwa growled, his other hand smoothing a thumb over your breast while he stared down the fox hybrid.

Wooyoung stuttered, mewling under Seonghwa’s stern hold, “I’ll be your good boy, I promise! Please, please, I’ll be so good-”

Seonghwa pumped his length between your pulsing walls to push out a dribble of the cum the fox had pumped you full of, scooping it up with two fingers and carrying it to Wooyoung’s open mouth. The hand still holding him up tugged at his hair to sit him up before stuffing his fingers down his throat. Seonghwa began grinding his cock into your heat at the sight – Wooyoung’s eyes glassy with unshed tears, his throat constricting around the long fingers fucking his own cum into his mouth. The older man knew he enjoyed being used like this, taking notice of how his cock twitched violently between his legs at the rough handling.

Seonghwa’s eyes moved back to you – whimpering under him and rolling your hips, seeking out more friction – but he continued making Wooyoung gag on his fingers. Once, twice, and the stray was painting your chest and belly with hot ropes of cum, moaning pathetically as he came untouched, the rough prodding of his owner’s fingers against his uvula enough to drive him over the edge.

But then you were cumming, clamping down on Seonghwa’s cock and deriving a breathy curse from his plush lips before he began pounding into you. Slipping his fingers out of Wooyoung’s hot mouth, he dug them into your hips and chased his own release. Your orgasm prolonged with Seonghwa’s relentless thrusting, you arched your back and gripped on Wooyoung’s thigh as the man on top of you drove his cockhead into your swollen gland, airy moans rolling off your tongue with the mind-numbing pleasure Seonghwa so generously gave you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, “so perfect, the both of you, shit-”

Seonghwa was so close, a hair away from giving you what you desperately wanted. “Please, ‘want daddy’s cum,” you pleaded, the overstimulation violently shaking your legs. “wanna have hwa’s babies, please, fill me up- hnngh!”

He thought he’d cum from that, but then Wooyoung was bending at the waist, licking a stripe over your heaving belly to lap at his own release, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed it down. Seonghwa came with a throaty groan, speeding up his movements before slowing them down to grind his hips into your pulsing cunt, milking himself of every last drop and fucking it into you until it mixed with Wooyoung’s seed.

The next twenty minutes were a blur, Seonghwa guiding Wooyoung into the shower before coming back with a damp cloth, delicately running it over your body to clean you up. You asked him not to wash out the sticky mess inside you, and upon seeing your wide eyes and the trembling of your bottom lip, he couldn’t help but do as you asked. He placed feathery kisses over the clean skin, fighting the shivers shaking your figure. Whining when he got up to leave, Seonghwa raked his fingers through your hair to calm you down, waiting with you until a head of damp hair peeked through the doorway, the stray fox instantly jumping onto the bed to cuddle into your side. Secured within Wooyoung’s arms, Seonghwa detached himself from you to hop into the shower.

Wooyoung’s lips grazed over your neck, pressing into your pulse point while his fingers caressed and squeezed at your waist and hips. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he muttered shyly, pulling at your heart strings.

Your fingers carded through his dark locks, scratching behind his ear until pleased hums vibrated against your neck. “You didn’t hurt me, Youngie, it felt good, but... could you be more gentle next time?”

Wooyoung peeled himself away from you and nodded quickly, pressing frantic, open-mouth kisses all over your face while you giggled. You spotted your owner leaning against the doorframe, a towel wrapped around his hips and fondness painted across his features as he watched his two hybrids love on each other. You reached out in his direction and made grabby hands, a grin splitting your face in half when he moved towards you with a breathy chuckle.

Tucked in between the two men, you allowed their warmth to seep into your skin, the delicate kisses planted over your shoulders, neck, and face making your body shake with giddy giggles. You knew your heat would pick up again soon, and the desperate need to be bred would take over you once again, but for now, you allowed the comfort they gave you to lull you to sleep, their steady breathing guiding you into a pleasant dream.

Seonghwa rubbed soothing circles over your hip, gluing himself to your back and moving the blanket to cover you and Wooyoung’s shoulders. He noticed the other’s man’s gaze snap back up, previously fixed between your legs to follow the trail of cum seeping out of your used hole. As though he was a teenager who’d been caught watching porn, he tried playing it off by pretending to be asleep, but his exhaustion took over him and his breathing slowly evened out. Seonghwa simply watched him, endeared by the hybrid’s high libido, always ready to pounce on you if you gave him the chance. Wooyoung nuzzled into your neck, his arm thrown over your waist and his fingertips brushing over the other man’s skin. Seonghwa’s own drowsiness pulled his eyelids shut, the world around him fading away and Wooyoung’s meek mumbling echoing in his head as he drifted away:

“I wonder how it feels to be so full of daddy’s cum... I bet it feels nice.”

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#seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #park seonghwa smut #ateez smut #ateez #jung wooyoung smut #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x y/n #kpop smut #jung wooyoung x reader #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x y/n

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ihopeiexplode · 15 days

Text

📱 “Two Fools Inlove” [←Previous | Next→]

—

"you know you didn't have to bring anything right?"

"yeah I know, just felt like bringing something"

"what's in it?"

"food what else dumbass?"

"coming from you probably someones head"

"wow very funny."

As he gave you the bag you were greeted with some desserts, homemade ones to be exact

"I thought you were bad at cooking?"

"Ive gotten better"

"sure you have..."

—

"SUKUNA LOOK LOOK"

"What am I looking at?"

"isn't the statute pretty??"

"I guess? All I see is some naked woman"

"you clearly don't understand art..."

"how do I not understand art when I literally paint, do poetry and calligraphy"

"you expect me to believe that?"

"yes"

"wait your serious?"

"did you think im not?"

"I find that hard to believe..."

"what hobbies did you think I had??"

"dunno tormenting people maybe? You seem like the type"

—

"I don't know how to bowl"

"how? It's literally so easy just throw the ball and there"

With that he'd toss bowling the ball to you as if it was nothing??

The moment he tossed it you immediately moved to the side

"WHAT THE FUCK??"

"your being dramatic it isn't that heavy"

"YES IT IS?? I COULD'VE BROKEN A BONE"

"I'd break it myself if you keep acting like a drama queen"

You'd roll your eyes before picking up the ball from the ground and throwing it into the bowling lane, as you did,, however you didn't even manage to hit a single bowling pin..and when Sukuna saw it he immediately laughed at your failed attempt

He'd pick up another ball and hand it to you as he stood behind you

"you're doing it wrong, here"

With that he'd manhandle your body into a proper stance, once he was finished he backed up and told you to throw

And when you did you managed to hit all of the Bowling pins as you did so you immediately jumped and giggled

Sukuna was about to find it adorable but you just HAD to act cocky. When you did he immediately flicked your head

"you wouldn't have done it without me, don't act to confident"

"can't a girl dream?"

"yeah but you can't"

"wow okay.."

—

"Sukuna what are you doing here?"

"Yuji asked me to come along to watch him skygazing"

"I'm surprised you agreed"

"didn't had a Choice"

"how come?"

"our mom told me I can't leave him alone, which is ridiculous he's perfectly fine by himself"

"speaking of wheres Yuji?"

"he ran into Megumi so he's having some quality time with his 'bestfriend', anyway why are you here?"

"just felt like it"

"what's so good about skygazing your just looking at stars what's so good about it"

"do you always have to be bitter?"

"always"

—

Both you and Sukuna would be sitting on the blanket you laid out on the floor as you two sat close to one another while looking at the stars, till you spoke

"you know Sukuna, I've been thinking"

"didn't know you had a brain"

"nevermind."

"I'm kidding, continue"

"I guess you aren't really that bad, you fare un to hang out with, surprisingly...I thought I wouldn't have that much fun spending this much time with you but guess I was wrong"

"so what were friends now?"

"dunno, if you want I guess"

He wants to say something so badly. But he knows once he does his feelings would spill out. And he doesn't wanna do that right when you both are finally on good terms.

—

Sukuna and uraume would be talking to one another as they sat down on a nearby chair

"how's things with y/n?"

"I guess it's okay, I went skygazing with her yesterday and she sorta confessed how I'm not that bad,"

"looks like you have a chance"

"chance for?"

"a chance to get with her? What else? It's obvious you like her"

"don't be ridiculous. Why would I like her?

"why would I like someone like y/n, the only reason I'm doing this is for the project nothing else, it's not like I care, let alone have feelings towards her"

"if anything when she told me her little confession I was on the verge of laughing, she really is pathetic isn't she? As if I'd be her friend"

"After this is over I'll just stop talking to her, simple,"

He's wondering why he's saying all of this? He knows he likes you but he won't admit that. He won't admit he's been chasing after you for years. He won't admit how he liked you despite how you felt about him. Sukuna isn't some pathetic loser he won't beg. He won't act desperate

After Sukuna finished talking he'd noticed how quiet they became, before he could ask what was wrong he heard a sound behind him, and when he turned around he saw you...

You stood behind him as you just stared at him wide eyed with your fist clenched, you were a fool to think a person like Sukuna would change, why would he ever change? It's still the same Sukuna deep down no matter what he does.

"how much did you hear?"

"all of it."

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: be honest does this sound like Sukuna atp...he's so out of character I'm about to jump off a cliff

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0sunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon @caileysdead @rixyaaaa @minzxec @rzcnlb

#jjk smau #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #Sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you

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luveline · 11 months

Note

maybe like a couple weeks after their first date he runs into r again & roan gets excited

thank you for your request! eddie and roan —single dad!eddie and his daughter roan bump into you at the store and make your intentions clear to one another. fem!reader, 2k

Eddie has biceps of steel from the last few years of constant carrying. Roan doesn't tire him out quickly anymore; he can carry her from the car to the store and back again without aching. It's the lack of hands for lifting things that pose a problem.

Every time he comes to the store he swears he's just gonna grab the one thing he came in for, and every time he ends up with a basket full of stuff he's been meaning to get for the last week or two, bandaids and dish detergent, Roan's favourite cookies because she's been a sweetheart this week even if they're three times as expensive as the okay ones, and even if it all makes the basket heavy as a bowling ball.

"You'll have to go down, you're slipping," he says to her.

Roan is regretfully exhausted today, and doesn't like the sound of this at all. "I don't want to walk," she mumbles.

"I know, sweetheart. Just for a bit." He plops her down on two feet, the burn in his arms mitigating slightly. "There we go. If you be a good girl for me we can get a big bag of candy, okay?"

"You promise?" she asks.

Her little voice makes it impossible to disappoint her. "I promise. You can still hold my hand if you need to."

She holds his hand for a little while. The last things on Eddie's list are actually the first things, the only things he'd come in for —socks for both of them. He noticed that pretty much all of his are out of commission, and Roan's get lost in the washer every other day.

Roan chooses to roam free, but she's learned her lesson since his last heart attack and doesn't wander. Eddie refuses to give her an opportunity, watching her like a hawk. It's why he doesn't notice you at first standing in front of the pyjamas feeling the soft fabrics between your fingers.

Roan skips back to his side. "Daddy, look," she implores, pointing.

Eddie picks up a packet of socks. "Two seconds."

"Look! Look!" she insists.

Eddie tosses the socks in the basket with all the enthusiasm of someone who's been in work for seven and a half hours. "What, babe?"

You've stepped a couple of paces closer, waving at him when he notices you with your endearing, awkward smile.

"Hello, Munsons," you say, in a way that Eddie takes for the shyness of going out with someone and an obvious delight to see them.

"Hey," he says, in the same shy-delighted combo.

Roan giggles infectiously and bounds forward to your legs. You hold your shopping basket out of the way. "Hey, princess! Wow, look at you! This is a pretty dress. Purple's your colour."

Roan rubs her cheek into your thigh. "Hi," she drags out.

"I'd pick you up, but my hands are full," you say. Basket in one hand, keys in the other, you've done the same as Eddie by the looks of things, come in for a quick stop and got distracted. "It's so nice to see you, it's been a whole week!"

Eddie tucks his hair behind his ear. "I meant to call you back last night, I'm sorry. I put her to bed and totally forgot."

Thankfully, you don't hold it against him. If anything, his apology brings an even bigger smile to your face.

"That's okay, handsome." Eddie has to physically hide his pleasure, hand behind his head to scratch at his neck bashfully. "That's just fine, I wasn't worried. I mean, unless I should be worried?"

"Definitely don't be worried," he begs.

Five dates, one of which at his trailer, and a countless number of phone calls between, Eddie's confident that this might go someplace good. He's a wuss, though, for not having kissed you yet. He's trying to be a gentleman (he's scared shitless that he's forgotten how to do it right, and he likes you so much, he really wants to do it right).

"Then I'm not worried," you say, rubbing Roan's little shoulders with your pinky and marriage finger, careful not to rake your keys over her shoulder blade.

"We're getting, uh– the big candy," Roan says.

"Yeah? The movie size bags? Your dad is so nice, every time we talk he's bought you something."

"He's so nice," Roan agrees clumsily.

Eddie shakes his head, "No, it's just my job."

You send him a fond look. "I can't pretend that I know how to do it, but if you asked me, I'd say you were, like, creme of the crop, you know? It's amazing."

Eddie takes that for encouragement. While Roan is busy pressed to your thighs adoringly, he juggles his basket into the other arm for want of something to do while he says, "Wayne offered to take Roan for the night this Friday if I wanted to make plans. Do you– would you be free? We could see a movie."

"I would be, and if I wasn't I'd make myself free," you say.

Eddie really, really likes that about you —you're honest. You don't play mind games. He figures it wouldn't work in your favour anyhow, considering you'd asked him out first, but he still appreciates it. It's nice to feel wanted.

He really needs to kiss you, he thinks. If the moments right, at the movies, maybe he can hit you with the classic yawning faux play and wrap an arm around your shoulders.

"You know I don't mind if Roan comes, right?" you ask.

"I know, but– I kind of wanna focus on you, yeah? It drives me crazy wanting to get to know everything about you and having to wait until the next time we see each other."

"Well," —you look down at Roan, shyness cropping up once more— "I'm not seeing anybody else. It's only you. I really love telling you things, and I'd love to go out with you, just us." You give Roan a blinding smile. "But I'll miss you, princess."

Roan whines with her arms raised. You put your basket down on the ground and crouch to accept a hug that turns to a clinging, Roan's legs wrapping around your waist as you perch your head over her shoulder.

"I'm not seeing anybody else, either," Eddie says.

You pat Roan's back. "Awesome."

Are you exclusive? Just like that? Eddie doesn't think that's how being someone's boyfriend goes, but it's a start. He'll ask you properly just as soon as he knows you enjoy being kissed by him, he decides.

"Ice cream?" Roan asks you desperately.

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish I could. We'll go again soon, okay? That was really fun, watching them scoop the ice cream together. I loved that."

"Please?" Roan asks.

You throw Eddie a save-me look.

"Big candy tonight, and then maybe we can get ice cream another day," he suggests. "We gotta go home to make sure Rufus ate his chicken, remember?"

"Will you come?" Roan asks you. Her voice wavers with a hopefulness that breaks Eddie's heart, honest to God.

She just wants to be loved by you. She adores you. She has from the very moment you met, how you'd fawned at her, called her pretty, she chases that feeling almost like Eddie chases your attentions.

He looks at you and he thinks, Fuck, she's good. Pretty, absolutely. Earnest? To a fault. His track record for reading people's intentions is awful, but he believes without a shadow of a doubt that you're someone worth fighting for.

He decides to lay it on thick. More is more with you.

"Y/N can't come with us tonight, baby, she has things to do. See how pretty she looks? She has somewhere she needs to go tonight."

You fluster visibly, managing to follow his white lie by the skin of your teeth. "I'm sorry, I do have somewhere I need to go. But I'm just so excited to hang out with you and daddy again like we did last week, I had lots of fun."

"And she'll dress like a princess again next time, yeah?" Eddie adds encouragingly.

"I will," you say.

He was supposed to meet you at a nice restaurant for dinner when his sitter cancelled on him last minute. Without qualm, you'd grabbed a bag of Chinese takeout and arrived at the trailer, everything about you working to drop his jaw clean out. Your hair, your split skirt, the way you'd taken Roan into your lap and fanned her face with a fabric fan and cood as her baby hairs blew in the breeze. Princess is the exact right word for how you'd been.

Eddie has more than a crush's worth of affection for you. He's kind of crazy about you, actually. Roan is the same.

"A princess?" she asks.

You nod slowly. "I swear. If you want, I can bring over a little bit of my makeup and we can match. Does that sound okay, dad?"

He's thankful for you turning the authority over to him. It makes it much easier to convince Roan to do as he asks tonight without a tantrum.

"Sounds perfect."

"Okay. Can I give you a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye?" you ask an ecstatic Roan.

She lifts her head for kissing. You brush her hair from her face and peck her round cheek as she begins the process of detangling herself from your torso.

You groan as you stand from a crouch and pick your basket up again. His jaw tenses of its own accord, your perfume sudden and encompassing as you step forward to say goodbye to him.

"I'll see you on Friday, yes?" you ask, face craned upward ever so slightly.

He's not sure he can wait that long. "Yeah, I'll call you?"

"Tonight?" you ask.

"Yeah, tonight. Whenever you want."

"I want tonight, if that's okay," you say.

Eddie squeezes your arm. He thinks it's a lame move until your smile somehow grows. "I'll call you as soon as I get home."

You nod, pleased. With a sweet goodbye wave to Roan, and a kiss so quick to his cheek that he's left wondering if he dreamed it, you and your basket dissappear around the corner toward the checkout.

Roan looks up at him. Eddie grins. "She's nice, right?"

"I love her," Roan says sagely. It's the same way that she says she loves cinnamon crunch cereal or her Dotty Dolly dolls, Eddie thinks, but it could easily turn to the same love she shows her Aunt Robin or numerous Uncles.

Hell, if you're as golden as you seem, Eddie would want her to love you as she loves Wayne, even as she loves Eddie himself. But that's miles down the line and much too much to be thinking about before a first kiss. (A proper one, and not a goodbye one, that is.)

His cheek warm from your lips, Eddie feels suddenly reinvigorated. He shifts the basket into the crook of his elbow and swoops Roan into his arms with the gusto of a stronger man.

"I like her, too," Eddie says. "I love you most of all. Forget one bag of candy, bubby, let's get three."

Roan pulls at his shirt collar mindlessly, "Three of the– of the big ones, daddy?"

"Yep. Three big ones all for me and you."

His love for her is a whole lot bigger than three bags of candy, but it's a start.

They make their way to the candy aisle. Roan recounts your appearance in clumsy wording, though lately she seems to be learning at a pace he can't keep up with. Every day she uses words he didn't know she knew, and better than that, her sentences have begun to stretch. Talking to her is the best way to move that along, so when she asks Eddie what he likes most about you, he talks for twenty whole minutes.

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bon2bonn · 2 months

Text

My hand to hold p.2

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Her head was killing her, figuratively and she thought it might actually physically do ends her , not only did she had to suffer through the whole race weekend with a severe cold that's accompanied with a migraine that rendered her immobile for the past two days. It escalated from a slight pressure to a full fledged drill going inside her head , now the slightest light blinded her and added to her still growing pain , her blocked nose and watering eyes gave her another hell to deal with . She contemplated rewriting her will at the time as she buried herself deeper into the blankets, reminiscing about the times when she could breathe normally through her nose not like how she's struggling to get a decent breath without panting like an old lady taking her last breath of life.

She cursed Carlos in her head for the thousandth time that day for going along with her childish impulses but groaned as she took it back knowing he suffered the same fate as she did that weekend, but obviously minus the migraine and the ragged breaths, she remembers how she fell into a laughing fit when she called him the day before, when he answered her video call with Buffy eyes and a red nose that caused him to sniffles every few seconds added to the sneezing fits that made him groan after every single one . his hair was a total mess , falling over his eyes in a curled disarray with dark circles of sleepless nights evident under his tired eyes , they both flinched at the other's appearance , grimacing in regret as they scowled at eachother through the screen , promising to never do anything stupid or indulging eachother with their childish antics but that promise went like water under the bridge and they both knew they'll do much worse than running under the rain unprotected which now rendered them both sick and unable to function properly.

But back to the present , she groaned in pain as she heard her door unlock slowly with the hinges squeaking as it was pushed open , making her burry her head under the pillows trying to drow out the light of the hallway but regretted her action as she struggled to breathe even more, so she threw away the pillows and peered through bleary-eyed vision as someone got in and closed the door behind them .

She couldn't make out who was it so she asked in a hoarse voice " death , is that you? " Max made a face at her after he turned on one of the dim lights by the door , giving her a decent view of his unimpressed face " not today Bibi " she Groaned again , turning into a small ball leaving her face out as she threw her blanket over her head .

Max made his way over with a small bag that she only noticed now along with a full bottle of water and a bowl of steaming soup . he set them on the bedside table before sitting on the bed beside her curled form , she tried to turn around but failed and kept herself curled resorting to scolded him in a tired tone " no !, you'll get sick too " he ignored her and took the medicine from the bedside table , cranked to bottle open and turned to her " come on , Ben's orders , and you need to eat something, come on up! up! up! " She miserably cried out " I can't ! , too tired" , he helped her up into a sitting position " and who's fault is that? " handing her the medicine along with the water before letting her lay back down.

She glared up at him " it's your fault! " he chuckled quietly asking in a teasing tone " is it now? " She nods but stopped as the room started spinning at her movement " it is ! , you know the dumb shit I do ! , you could've stopped me then I wouldn't have gotten sick !" He glared back at her " you ! And correct me if I'm wrong , actually refused to listen and ran away like a toddler on a sugar rush " , she snapped at his statement " you could've dragged me back" he gave her a deadpanned look " I tried to! , and you almost bit my fingers off ! " She looked away at his answer unable to argue back " in my defence I was left unattended" he rolled his eyes pointing out " you were with Carlos" she shrugged nonchalantly " in his defence he was left unattended too , sooo ......" he sigh knowing there's no use arguing with her .

His soft tone called again " come on, at least take some of the soup, I swear the poor kid is two sneezes away from calling your dad, or worse, calling Roge " she grimaced at the thought of her father breaking down her door once knowing how sick she really is , not like the light almost nonexistent flue she told him she caught days ago, let alone her eldest cousin, that made her shudder as she looked at Max .

He frowned at her tired face, her eye bags amplified his concern further , making him ask her quietly " what hurts?" She made a pained face as she pointed at her head . he nods and looked at the soup deciding that it's still too hot for her to swallow so he turned back to her , adjusting her pillow and leaning his head on the headboard , settling on his back after kicking his legs up to lay beside her while crossing his feet at the ankles , he took out the mint drops out of the bag and unwrapped one and held it out for her, shaking his head when she pushed his hand away " they'll help " she made a face of distaste " no, I love mint but these taste weird " he gave her a pointed look " you won't even taste them with your stuffed up nose , you can barely breathe! " she pouted at his words taking the drop while muttering under her breath " you're mean " he took one of them himself before laying down comfortably " and you're an idiot, so I guess that balances us " watching her gag dramatically when she finally popped it in , not helping his amusement at her displeased face .

After a moment he took her hand starting to gently massage her palm starting from her wrist up towards the pads of her fingers all while concentrating on the area between her thumb and pointer finger, snickering silently at her relaxed face , the meds must kicked in as her eyes started to drop and it didn't take long before she fell asleep with him taking her other hand to do the same process as the other , her now free hand gripped gently at his t-shirt, a habit she's yet to drop since she picked it up years ago .

He gently placed a kiss on the back of her hand before placing it over his heart, closing his eyes and minutes later he drifted off too with the sound of her soft breaths lulling him away .

Tommy peeked his head in to check on the two , it's been a while and no one stepped out yet , so he took it upon himself to check on them , and he wasn't surprised to find them both passed out but still disappointed at the untouched soup , he tiptoed his way to collect the bowl to reheat later , pausing at the sleeping pair and eyes softened at their tired figures , but at least she finally got some rest after suffering through all these sleepless nights , he made his way out quietly, making sure to shut the door behind him gently .

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fic #wys #f1 x female reader #weathering your storm #f1 fanfic #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female driver #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x driver!reader

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flextrousa · 13 days

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icyg4l · 3 months

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PAC: What Should You Do for Spring Break?

For my college babes who need ideas on what to do for the next couple of days or next month, I got you with this one! This marks one of two posts being made today! Yayyy! Without further ado, please pick your pile.

Left-to-Right: (1-3)

Pile 1: Pile One, you need to play it cool for your spring break. I feel like you really just need to let loose. Flirt a little. I see the wing of an airplane in my third eye, which lets me know that you should book a last minute flight. Try to go to a place that’s not a hot spot. Where do you feel called to? I also think you do some exploring within your city. Take a mini road trip! I specifically see a bar at night but with dancing, square dancing. Do any of you live in Texas? If not, you should take a road trip down to Texas! This is for a very select group of you, but you should elope with your significant other. It sounds crazy but your ancestral team supports it. If you’re single and ready to mingle, then you should go on a date. Perhaps a sip and paint? Maybe go to a lounge? I see a stable relationship forming from this date. You should go to a sporting event, if you can score some tickets! I saw a bowling ball, so you should definitely go bowling as well. And lastly, you should do something that helps you recalibrate like go to a spa! You deserve it girl!

Cards Used: Queen of Cups, Page of Wands, 2 of Discs, Temperance, King of Discs, Ace of Cups, The Hierophant, Queen of Wands.

Signs: Pisces, Aries, Virgo, Sagittarius, Taurus.

extras: “youngin.” bounce back. rainbows. nickleback. forty ounces. legs. promenade. bad memory. punta canta. tallahassee. white chicks. grimace. kissy face.

Pile 2: Pile Two, you need to retreat. I feel like you’ve been separating yourself from the crowd for a reason. You definitely need to be by yourself at this time. Take some time out for yourself and just relax. I don’t think this pile does this often, so you should take a smoke break. I saw the meme of that girl talking about conspiracy theories while smoking a blunt lmao. I also heard the word “cleansing”, so you should definitely take the time to release any past energies. Let it all go. Honestly, if you’re in a relationship, it’s time to leave it in the past. I do see that it’ll be a mutual decision so no one will really be broken hearted. Some things simply just run its course. Refrain from doing anything impulsive, it will backfire. I think that you should also spend more time with your family (chosen or biological). You tend to take them for granted & you need those moments to bond with them. Focus on setting goals for the springtime. You have a lot that you want to accomplish and it won’t get done if you don’t take action.

Cards Used: Queen of Cups, 7 of Discs, 10 of Cups, The Moon (RX), Eight of Cups, The Fool (RX), The Lovers (RX), Ace of Discs, 7 of Cups.

Signs: Leo, Gemini, Aries, Capricorn, Virgo.

extras: normani. LAX. number 7. walking on water. valerie. virus. calling an 800 number. rotating dial. pleasure seeker.

Pile 3: Pile Three, this is the perfect time to get situated. Start spring cleaning so that you can get rid of those loose ends. Do any tedious chores that you've been procrastinating on. Cut your grass. Wipe/dust your walls. Clean out your refrigerator. Another thing that you can do is write letters to your future self and hide them. I feel like this pile is wondrous and always like to plan ahead. So why not put your hopes of the future all on one page? Pile Three, you need to be comfortable with just doing nothing at times as well. I think that after all of this cleaning, you owe it to yourself to be a couch potato. You aren’t a slacker if you just sit down and crack open a bag of potato chips to watch Orange is the New Black. It just makes you human. But after all of this, you could also make an appointment with a spiritual advisor to get a spiritual cleansing or get a tarot reading from them, specifically someone who is new to you. If you do not have access to a spiritual advisor, give yourself a spiritual bath or an egg cleanse. It is best to make new connections at this time, specifically with those who have friends in higher places if you know what I mean. I channeled Dr. Facilier from The Princess and the Frog. And lastly, what you could do during spring break is implement new workout habits. This could be going to the gym, taking daily walks, finding a yoga routine, going to a pilates class, hiking or even taking a kickboxing class. Spirit wants you to not be super inactive during this break. It’s called balance. You need to learn how to not be so extreme, Pile Three. You can walk and chew bubble gum at the same time, you know?

Cards Used: The Emperor, The Fool, The High Priestess, 10 of Discs, 4 of Cups, The Hermit (RX), 7 of Wands, The Sun.

Signs: Aries, Capricorn, Libra, Gemini, Sagittarius.

extras: lovely day. “pardon me.” obsession with teyana taylor. abs. long natural nails. fiber intake. dog fur. headband wig. “shawty.” spooky. virginia. love letters. less fortunate. excess. lonely spell. castaways.

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delcakoo · 2 years

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captain ‘puff | n.rk

✶ PAIRING ! slytherin!niki x hufflepuff!fem!reader

✶ GENRE ! bantering and fluff (?)

✶ WC ! 2.2k

✶ WARNINGS ! none just niki being a cocky mf and yn being a badass

✶ SUMMARY ! you agree to answer a troublemaking slytherin’s questions only if he can block your shots in a quidditch 1v1, too bad he didn’t ask if you were hufflepuff’s team captain..

a/n: niki fr wore a slytherin outfit in the middle of me writing this. the scream i let out.. btw you don’t need to know HP to read this, you’ll catch on quick!

quidditch was easy! from the sidelines, the wizard sport seemed simple enough. every player had their own designated role to follow, and a position to be in. what was so hard about throwing a giant red ball into a hoop, or smoking people in the heads with bowling balls?

you quickly stopped thinking those things during your first game on the hufflepuff team, when you were so focused on watching the quaffle, that you didn’t notice the bludger being thrown right at your shoulder, immediately knocking you off your broom and back onto the bench.

that day, you learned the key to quidditch was multitasking.

you have a quaffle and your fellow chasers to look out for, but also the beaters looking for the perfect moment to strike you out of the air. wait, the enemy chasers are suddenly right in front of you! oh and there’s the seekers coming straight at you because it seems you’re in the way of the golden snitch and suddenly the quaffle in your hand is stolen and your teammate is yelling at you to watch out because a bludger is skyrocketing right at your—

get it now?

even with all these intimidating factors in mind, you’re never one to turn down a challenge. if you aren’t good at something, that wouldn’t be the case for very long due — hours of practice every single day brought one thing to another, and you found yourself — once a benchwarmer — now proudly the captain of the hufflepuff team, only a couple months later.

you could label yourself as an overachiever.

hufflepuff hasn’t had a female captain in decades, and it only made you feel prouder of your new leading title. while the other houses seemed to still doubt your house’s quidditch abilities, you had full confidence that with you as the new captain, your team would destroy all of them in the upcoming tournament this year. hufflepuffs were known for having a propensity for hard work, and a strong sense of justice, after all.

the quidditch arena looked ethereal. the sun reflected off the giant, golden hoops perfectly, and the usually unkept grass was now neatly trimmed and blooming. holding your broom tightly, you breath in the fresh air while using a free hand to pull your quaffle out of your bag. thank merlin classes had at last finished for the day, giving you the chance to use the remaining time for practise.

you swiftly hop onto your broom, zooming off towards the shining rings. you imagine the keeper in front of you, which way should you juke? how should you position your broom? it was a thrilling experience, even when alone.

you fake a throw to the left hoop, angling your broom along with you to seem more believable, before suddenly spinning completely and aiming for the right hoop.

you’d been working out lately, especially your arms. being able to watch the quaffle slam through the golden ring at full force was like a reward for all the muscle building. you grin, diving under to grab your ball.

that was, until you look down and see a boy with fluffy black hair catch your quaffle, smirking over at you.

he’s handsome, you recognise. he has a cute mole under his left eye like many others scattered across his features, and his plump, pink lips were being moistened by his tongue as he inspected you. his ears are pierced with small, silver hoops, and his green tie was nearly falli–

green tie. your eyebrows furrow, lips turning down at the ends as you take another closer look at him.

ah, nishimura riki. this boy was known for constantly getting into trouble and causing havoc throughout the castle with his friends, ever the prankster. though, you also recall him being one of, if not slytherin’s best keeper.

“get your hands off my ball, snake,” you call out, flying down to match his level.

his smirk grows as he eyes you, lazily throwing the quaffle over to you while resting against his broom. “that wasn’t too bad, princess.”

you scoff at the nickname, catching it with one hand and securely tucking it under your arm. “why were you watching me practise?”

niki shrugs, “i came here to practise too,” he eyes your chest, raising a brow at your missing tie. you ignore him, flying over to the other side of the arena to continue your drills.

like an annoying mosquito, he follows close behind. “i’ve never seen you before, what house are you? clearly not slytherin.”

contrary to belief, it was actually great to know you were once so invisible the other team didn’t even remember you. this would only make it more fun to claim victory against them this season as the new captain.

“nice catch, sherlock. i’m trying to practise, if you don’t mind.” you deadpan, holding your quaffle and preparing another throw. you had no interest in talking to your opponents on the court, especially not a troublemaking slytherin boy.

on the other hand, niki is utterly fascinated by you. normally, the girls fell to his feet at just a smirk or a simple wave. but here you, whoever you were, completely ignoring his existence.

it only motivated him to keep bothering you.

he watches as you throw once again, whipping the quaffle impressively fast into the middle ring. “it’s a shame you aren’t slytherin, we need a good new chaser. you must be gryffindor to be this decent, then.” you only roll your eyes at his rude, false assumption.

he continues to trail behind you as you dive down to grab your ball. “i have a suggestion.” you huff at his determination, flying back up before the hoops once again. you make eye contact as he chases after you, and you couldn’t deny the fact that this boy was stupidly appealing to the eye.

you do your best to ignore this fact by directing your attention back to your quaffle. “i’m a keeper, so how about we practise together? but everytime i block one of your shots, you have to answer one of my questions.”

you sigh at that, throwing your quaffle into the air before catching it again. this could be a good opportunity to learn his technique for the real games. “and when i score?”

he grins cutely, “well, what do you want, princess?”

again with that damn nickname. you huff. “stop calling me that. and i suppose the same thing as you.”

the slytherin immediately grows his damn smirk again at your words, cockily raising a brow. “you wanna get to know me huh? am i that handsome?”

you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief at his confidence. “if that helps you sleep at night, sure.” you nod over to the hoops. “i’m waiting.”

niki quickly flies over to the three goals, cracking his knuckles. he didn’t know why, but he was feeling very competitive. he wanted to impress you, and he definitely wanted to win those answers. “give it your best shot.”

“oh i will, nishimura.” you reply, before taking off towards him as fast as you could.

his eyes narrow in concentration, watching you closely as you fly to the far right. he follows you to block the right hoop, when you suddenly loop upside down to the left, a move you’d been working on the past few days.

however, you weren’t too surprised when niki caught up to you just as fast, he was titled the best keeper of slytherin for a reason. “you’re not as stupid as i was hoping.” you comment, shooting back towards the right ring.

niki follows you silently, and while you think he’s distracted heading over to the right hoop, you shoot over your shoulder, right into the middle one. it was centimetres from going in, until a gloved hand shoots up and blocks it.

your eyes widen in genuine surprise, watching niki scoop up the quaffle before it touches the ground. he flies back up to you, smirking proudly. “too slow princess, could see you lifting your arm seconds before you shot. gotta work on that throwing speed.”

you growl in annoyance, you couldn’t lose to this asshole. “that was just my warmup, what’s your question?”

niki already had this one planned, “what house are you?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. he was ready to hear gryffindor, or perhaps ravenclaw. but then again, he’s never been so interested in a girl from the nerd house before.

“hufflepuff.” you answer simply.

his eyes go wide in horror, looking at you as if you’d just grown another head. “really?”

you scoff. “it’s despicable how much you underestimate us. you really thought i was gryffindor ‘cause.. what, i’m good at quidditch?”

he shrugs, throwing your quaffle back to you. “everyone knows hufflepuff has been lacking in the quidditch department, just the facts.”

“we’ll see about that next season.” you murmur, gripping the ball tighter before taking off again.

niki seems more laid back than the first time, you recognise in his body language, as if he was confident he could win every round all because of one victory.

small, small minded, you think. just like before, you remind yourself that you’re never one to turn down a challenge, and that a loss was simply a learning experience.

perhaps it was time to bring out some of your more reserved plays that you usually saved for games.

you dash towards him once again, deciding to head for the left ring. he follows you, closely calculating your brooms movements. with no notice, you suddenly fly upwards, leaving a whoosh of confused air behind for your enemy.

niki only grunts at your unsuspected direction change, quickly craning his head up to find you already throwing your quaffle upside down on your broom, right into the middle hoop.

“the fuck was that?!” he calls out, stuck in his spot as he watches you cackle, diving down to collect the ball once again.

“what? you think the only directions i can go are left and right?” you smirk, spinning the quaffle on your finger innocently.

he scowls, “upside down? seriously? there’s no way you’re a newbie, or a hufflepuff!”

you shrug, still giggling at his dumbstruck expression. “now tell me,” you ponder for a moment. while niki was using this little deal to learn about you, you were more interested in something else. “what are the full names of all the new players on your team this year?”

his eyes widen, jaw tightening in frustration, “you know you aren’t allowed to know that until the rosters drop.”

you raise an eyebrow, smirking evilly, “oh really? our little bet says otherwise.” you watch as the grip on his broom tightens, fingers turning white. “are you being a pussy, nishimura? gonna drop out?” you pout in fake sorrow.

he snaps at that, beginning to list a total of six people, eyes staring at you with fire the whole time.

satisfied with your new information, you grin at him. “thanks, wanna stop playing?”

he grits his teeth, determinedly getting back in front of the rings. “you wish.”

two rounds later, niki has found out your name after barely blocking your shot with the tip of his finger. he swears he’s heard it somewhere, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

meanwhile you found out the positions of all the new slytherin players after scoring an amazing goal on the left hoop. you weren’t sure why he didn’t take your strategy and begin asking about the hufflepuff team, but you weren’t complaining.

“next period will be starting soon.” you say, passing the quaffle between your hands. “last round.”

he cracks a grin, “ready when you are, princess.”

little did he know, you had a new plan.

as you take off towards the slytherin boy, instead of juking to a different direction, you continue going straight ahead. niki watches you fly at him with full speed, gulping, “uh, what are you doing?”

as you two are about to collide, you come to a sudden halt. your faces are now inches apart, and you smirk at the nervous, stuttered breath that leaves his parted lips.

you balance on your broom, raising your free hand to cup his jaw, slowly moving forward until your lips are pressed to his. he doesn’t kiss you back for a few seconds, trying to process what was happening until he finally reaches up to your neck, pulling you closer.

too easy.

you open an eye, unravelling the quaffle from your other hand, gently tossing it into the glimmering hoop he’s completely forgotten about before pulling away from the kiss. niki just stares at you in utter shock, rubbing his lips together until the sound of the quaffle hitting the ground snaps him out of his trance.

he turns to see if what he heard was correct, snapping his head back to you.

“i win,” you cockily announce, just as the class bell rings behind you in the castle. “you owe me an answer.” you turn around, beginning to fly off before looking back at him once more. “oh and, get my quaffle for me, will you, nishimura?

niki hates losing. but losing because of a damn kiss was much, much worse. he furiously flies down to grab your ball, jaw dropping in absolute horror when he takes a closer look at the writing spread across it.

“PROPERTY OF L/N Y/N, HUFFLEPUFFS CAPTAIN. RETURN IF FOUND.”

if you enjoyed, reblogging n’ feedback is always appreciated and motivating for me !

taglist: @duolingofanaccount

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artbyblastweave · 2 years

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Once again, I’d like to discuss my proposal that we formally abolish the Nuclear Family. There was a brief window in history where this arrangement made sense; but each passing year demonstrates that it’s increasingly untenable. It’s a toxic, patently artificial construct, and it’s slowly destroying our society. Whatever nostalgic attachment we have to this can’t continue to elide the fact that every time. Every single time the Fitzsimmons uncork that stupid hermetically-sealed lead-lined bunker they “live” in and crawl out to try and live like people do, the collateral damage is enormous.

Our lawns are barren at the corners where their 2.5 kids cut across in their rush to get to the playground, which, incidentally, FEMA has informed us won’t be usable by humans for about 10,000 years- which would in turn be a real problem if local childhood leukemia rates weren’t holding at a steady 97 percent, for some mysterious reason. You can tell when Ms. Fitzsimmons has just gotten done at the grocery store from the slew of half-dissolved clerks and stockboys draped over every surface, collapsed backwards into once-pristine displays of cans, the shift manager hanging out of the half-donned radiation-suit-turned-body-bag she wasn’t able to get into in time, all of their molten, unwound DNA leeching out of their pores and mingling with the scattered, trampled produce. Mr. Fitzsimmons made a surprise appearance at league night; I’d heard rumors he was thinking about coming, So I’d double layered myself in radiation suits done up in the colors of my league team, the Flailing Wildcats. But none of the other teams stood a snowball’s chance in hell. In his last moments of lucidity before his eyes ran out of his head, Don Cadwell got off a couple shots with the illegally owned rifle he kept behind the shoe return, but Fitzsimmons, like always, was able to reflexively refocus the intensity of his ground-zero emanation effect to mostly vaporize the projectile, with only a few loose drops of superheated metal speckling his flaccid, rubbery skin and running down it like tears.

So the two of us stood there, me limply holding my lucky striker bowling ball as the other three members of the wildcats voicelessly writhed and puttered out around me, staring through two tawny-orange, clouded panes of plexiglass at this distorted figure of our collective unconscious, this Levittown-reject atomic afterbirth standing guilelessly confident in his infuriating, calcified pastiche of mid-century masculinity, cob pipe clenched between ramrod-straight teeth, hair sculpted like wax fruit, sweater-vest and button-down shirt infuriatingly crisp. And I felt my breath, hot on my own face, as he looked at me in turn, his face locked into a vacuous idiot grin plagiarized from Rockwell. He released a heartly-delivered, vapid loop of canned, inaudible small talk from between his teeth, oblivious to the withered limbs clutching plaintively at his slacks as he approached the ball return. He looked at me with those eyes that aren’t eyes, how could they be eyes, eyes wouldn’t survive residency in his head- he looked at me with the inhuman substitute eyes the doctors had put into him, housed in substitute flesh suited to the inhabitant of the only future his bitter, desperate makers could entertain. And as I stared at him I felt a depth of hatred I didn’t know I was capable of, a hatred that would be monstrous if directed at a feeling person, a hatred that you can only direct in good conscience at an idea. And what was he, if not an idea. If not the idea of a man who was once called Simon Fitzsimmons, if not the idea of the world to come, the world that we thought we deserved, the world we thought deserved him.

And in that moment, I resolved that in the name of a world worth living in, I would bowl against him to the last so that he wouldn’t win the tournament by default. But then he kicked my ass because it turns out you can’t bowl for shit wearing fifty pounds of plastic and lead. It drapes weird and you can’t keep a grip on the ball. Thank you for your time.

#microfiction #my writing #thoughts #shitpost #horror #absurdism

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enchantedchocolatebars · 4 months

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🎃 Pumpkin Carving And Candy Passing 🍬

🎃 Original piece 🍬

🍭 Ao3 version 🍫

👻 Commission art here ✨️

Pumpkin Carving 🎃

Chibi Philip and Chibi Caleb are carving pumpkins together!

On his pumpkin, Caleb is carving up a really cool design.

It’s his favorite golden mask that he likes to wear when he and Philip play "Emperor and Guard" together.

When he’s done, Caleb picks up the pumpkin and begins examining it.

A grin appears on his face and it grows immensely at his craftsmanship.

The pumpkin was positively perfect!

A tap is then given to his shoulder by a finger.

When Caleb turns around, he sees Philip with both hands behind his back, eager to share with his older brother a surprise.

A carved pumpkin is promptly pulled out from Philip's back.

It has hollow eyes, long horns, and… a bird beak?

The mask design on Philip’s pumpkin looked oh-so familiar, but Caleb couldn’t put his finger on it.

Hmm…

Nonetheless, the blonde brings a hand down to gently pat the brunette’s soft hair, causing him to smile.

Philip did a smashing job on his pumpkin!

When night falls, Caleb lights up both pumpkins and displays them on the window sill for all to see.

...

Candy Passing 🍬

Chibi Caleb is handing out candy to trick or treaters with Chibi Philip!

Philip is being a good boy by helping his big brother out.

When Caleb reaches a little hand inside the bowl, it is empty.

That’s strange.

Flipping the bowl upside down, he gives it a shake, and a single dust ball floats down out of it.

Caleb quickly comes to the realization that they’re out of candy.

Bummer.

Not to worry though!

Handing the bowl to Philip, Caleb instructs his little bro through a speech bubble to wait while he goes inside to get more candy, to which Philip happily nods.

When Caleb is gone, Philip spots a small pile of dead animals nearby.

After a small gasp, his big blue eyes sparkle in delight at the sight of the stinky carcasses.

He has an idea!

I think you can see where this is going. XD

A small montage begins of Philip dropping “treats” inside the other children’s bags and buckets.

Meanwhile, inside, Caleb is standing on a small stool, reaching for the big bag of candy in the cupboard.

As soon as he grabs it, he hears the sound of a high-pitched scream from outside, which causes him to jolt up.

That scream didn’t belong to his brother.

Heading back with the candy, a speech bubble with a question mark appears near Caleb’s mouth, as if asking Philip what happened.

Philip simply shrugs at the question with a small smile, a halo appearing above his head.

The little rascal was able to hand out the last of his “treats” to a trick-or-treater who squealed in terror at the dead animal in thier bucket and quickly took off.

When the screen transitions to a solid black, a circle is centered on Philip as he looks at the “audience”.

Grinning cheekily, he raises a finger to his lips, “shushing” the viewers.

The short ends with him winking out a star. ⭐

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inkformyblood · 6 months

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hiding at your side (CWFKB #12)

Fill for "Temple Kiss", Pokemon AU @codywanfirstkissbingo

The cafe is crowded, not overtly so, but Cody still recalls his Arcanine to his ball before he ducks inside. The decoration is typical of most of the other’s in this area, a few posters plastered over a noticeboard dominating one wall that catches Cody’s eye before any of the other kitsch items can, and he’s already ducking his head and turning away before he can fully register what he’s seeing. There are only so many times that he can stand seeing his own face depicted in glorious technicolour, the scar that runs over his temple only included at his insistence, before he’ll flee back to his apartment and refuse to leave it for another week. He had only wanted to complete his badges and make sure his Pokemon were happy, everything else is extra .

Cody tugs his cap down further over his face and turns towards one of the tables tucked away to the side. He catches Dex’s eye as he goes, the owner peering over the glass top of the counter, his Machamp looming over his side and, for a moment, Dex’s shadow possesses four arms settled on his hips. Dex waves one broad hand in greeting, his Machamp already beginning to make up a couple of dishes, and Cody returns the motion with a small salute before he returns his attention towards the table. He slides onto the seat facing away from the window, the imagined itch of eyes branded into the back of his neck already. Once he is situated, Cody thumbs the button of his Pokeball, careful to keep the ball down by his side before returning it to his bag. His Arcanine yawns, his tongue lolling out of his mouth before he settles back on his haunches, expectantly. Cody reaches across to scratch behind his partner’s ears, the Pokemon’s tail knocking against the floor with low rhythmic thumps, before he leans against Cody’s hand and settles back down onto the floor.

“Cody!” Dex crows as he bustles out from behind the counter, a stretch of plates splayed across one arm and a heavy mug clutched in his other hand. Steam billows from the mug and Cody’s attention sticks to it, the distant memory of his morning cup already burning a hole in his stomach as it had been accompanied by very little else. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until this moment.

“Dex,” Cody answers, standing up to greet the other man properly once the plates had been distributed over the table. Dex’s hugs were legendary like sinking into a warm bath with your belly full and a fire burning merrily in the fireplace. “How’ve you been?”

“Better now that my favourite sponsor is here!” Dex keeps his voice low but even that is loud enough for Cody to flinch, throwing his gaze towards the still-closed door.

He leans into Dex’s hold, sneaking out one hand to fumble at one of the chips poking out of the basket. “I’m your only sponsor.” Cody bites into the chip and near-enough moans. It’s perfection, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and flavoured exactly how Cody likes them.

“That you are,” Dex chuckles, ruffling Cody’s hair and finally releasing him. Cody’s cheeks are flushed, embarrassment quick on the heels of any of his actions recently, but he still reaches for another chip, tucking himself back into his seat. Dex has also brought a bowl for his Arcanine, now sitting upright, his attention focused on that single spot, and he glances up at Cody, his paws clicking against the wood floor. Cody nods and at his signal, his Arcanine surges forwards, shoving his face into the bowl. His tail begins wagging again, impacting against the side of Cody’s leg like a blow. He weathers it as best as he can, picking amongst the plates and setting a handful to one side. They weren’t intended for him, after all.

Cody is about to reach for his phone, the phantom buzzing sensation now crawling over the back of his skull, when the door rings behind him, swinging open with a gust of frigid air that is only barely mitigated by the fire Pokemon at his side. He turns to inspect the person, initially a glance over his shoulder but he turns fully when he takes in the man pushing the door closed, his collar drawn up over his face. The Absol at his side shakes itself free of the lingering rain and pads over to Cody’s table immediately, taking the most direct route by ducking beneath the tables and scrambling over one chair that had been left askew. Obi-Wan draws his scarf free, peeling the damp fabric away from his skin with a grimace and folds it on itself, draping it over his shoulder. His hair is dark with the rain, the colour diluted from auburn to a deep rich brown, and a small puddle forms at his feet, settling into the void of his shoes. He swipes a hand over his eyes, his gaze skimming over the handful of occupied tables before he settles onto Cody. Obi-Wan raises a hand in greeting, his grin immediate, and the gathered grey clouds and the ever-present gaze of the world didn’t matter anymore.

Obi-Wan reaches him in a matter of moments, following the same pathway that his Absol did, and he leans down to hug Cody in the same moment. Cody’s cap shifts to the side, exposing the scar wrapped across his temple, and Obi-Wan presses a kiss to it before Cody can begin to tense up. The ghost of his lips burns into Cody’s skin as Obi-Wan adjusts his cap, pulling it back into place before he slides into his seat across from Cody. “Hello, love. Long time, no see.”

“Hi,” Cody manages. His heart feels restricted, somehow too full and wrung empty at the same time. He doesn’t brush his fingers across the aching spot on his temple, the space he somehow hopes bruises so he’ll have some physical to tie this memory to. “I’ve missed you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile shifts into something soft and sweet. He reaches out through the network of plates to twine his fingers through Cody’s, his thumb working over the calluses on his palm. “I’ve missed you too. Let’s not part again.”

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #star wars #my writing #fanfic #cody x obi wan #cwfkb2023 #cwfkb

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allfortzu · 11 months

Text

a space just for you

-- dahyun / tzuyu. 1.8k, fluff. MEN DNI.

dahyun and tzuyu watch the first snow together.

tzuyu kneels down and fills kaya and butter's bowls.

she'd bought some new food for them to try. smiles when they start eating without hesitation.

she turns, scoots over to another bowl carefully, and fills a third.

today, she has ari with her.

"ari-ah," tzuyu coos.

ari is more sceptical of the new food, and he stares blankly back at tzuyu.

"I promise it's good," she scratches ari's head for good measure. "your mom told me you eat less than kaya and butter, but i'll give you more if you like it, okay?"

tzuyu thinks ari definitely understands, because he picks up a single kibble, nibbles on it, and seemingly decides he does like it enough to continue eating.

"okay, tell me when you want more," tzuyu whispers, because speaking too loud would disturb the dogs' peaceful dinner, and she pats ari's head again.

she squats there, arms folded over her knees, until they finish their food. it's winter now, cold outside, but her company is warm.

"when do you think your mom's coming home?" she asks ari. she hopes dahyun wore enough layers today.

ari can't reply audibly, but tzuyu's pretty sure she knows what he's thinking.

"i miss her already too," she sighs, pouts so ari can tell that she's sad. dogs probably need more obvious social cues. "want more food?"

ari licks her, wags his tail.

"okay!" tzuyu grins, pinching ari's cheeks excitedly. she's happy ari's warming up to her. maybe he can be friends with kaya and butter soon.

"momo recommended this brand to me. she said boo and dobby really like it," tzuyu says, just to fill the silence. she imagines its similar to how she enjoys watching tv while she eats. "i think it's good for digestion, like bananas? and it tastes good too, right? hopefully you poop later!"

it's a little funny, it is; obviously one-sided – none of her dogs can talk – but it's fun. tzuyu likes talking to her dogs. she also likes talking to ari, and ari reminds her of dahyun.

soft and shy, polite smiles, tiny enough to lay on her chest.

tzuyu smiles, tilts her head sideways. "you know, you're just like dahyun."

ah, why is she talking to a dog about her girlfriend?

ari yips; maybe because he's already finished his extra portion, maybe because he'd recognised dahyun's name. kaya and butter yip back, and they start having a little private doggy conversation.

"do you all think you could live together permanently?" tzuyu asks, finding it quite endearing. their tails are wagging excessively fast, ears pulled down. "i want dahyun to live with me, but does ari want that?"

ari does a little spin and runs past tzuyu.

tzuyu pouts a little, turns her head to watch where ari went. he's disappeared behind a corner where the apartment entrance is, and tzuyu hopes it's not because the idea of living with her is so repulsing that he instantly wants to leave.

she finds ari clawing at the door, and her heart drops a little. "hey, is my apartment that bad?"

she's about to bend down and pick ari up but then the door clicks open, and ari is forced to step a few steps back. tzuyu scoops him up before he gets hit by the opening door.

"ari!"

...dahyun.

ari scrambles to leave tzuyu's arms, his excitement palpable. dahyun sets her bag down and makes grubby hands, grinning wide as tzuyu hands the ball of fluff over.

dahyun's home.

she laughs softly when ari licks her cheeks, and tzuyu can't help but smile.

dahyun's laugh is light and airy, fills their quiet little home perfectly.

there's something about hearing dahyun in the house, having dahyun come home to her.

"how was your day?" tzuyu asks, slotting herself in between dahyun’s arms.

"better," dahyun says. she leans in to bring a palm to the curve of tzuyu's jaw, guiding tzuyu in. "now that i'm here."

she presses her lips to tzuyu's, soft and sweet, a routine that has naturally come to be.

tzuyu deepens the kiss, hand to the back of dahyun's neck.

she might be taller than dahyun, but when dahyun coaxes her in like that, her shoulders slump so easily, and she moves like jelly, going wherever dahyun wants her.

there's a warm and slow sensation all over after, a messy knot untangling from the point of dahyun's lips.

the beginnings of a grin blossom, and she's not sure if it's just her or dahyun, or both of them.

tzuyu giggles, the kiss settling in like a warm blanket. they part slightly for air, giggling, noses touching.

“i heard it’ll snow today,” dahyun murmurs. ari tries to join the conversation by burying his snout in between them. “wanna go see?”

“you don’t wanna rest?” tzuyu asks, leaning back to make space for ari, but also to check if dahyun looked tired.

“all recharged now,” dahyun grins. “let’s go?”

–

it isn’t snowing yet when they come out, but they don’t mind.

they’ve seen snow together many times; it was a staple tradition for couples, after all. they know they do it just for the excuse to make their dates a little more special.

ari, butter, and kaya have scurried off to the field, and five has become two.

they start on their usual stroll, a route they frequent. dahyun curls her arm around tzuyu's, snug and close, and sometime in between, she slips a hand into tzuyu's pocket.

tzuyu's fingers find their way through dahyun's, intertwining wordlessly. they've done this a million times.

“what did i say about getting a coat?” tzuyu jabs, teasing.

dahyun tightens her hold. “who says i’m not doing this to keep you warm?”

tzuyu smiles. “yeah?”

“i’m a romantic,” dahyun declares.

it’s cheesy, it’s charming; it’s such a dahyun thing to say even if she’s the one huddling up to tzuyu for warmth.

they lean into one another as they walk, shoulders bumping, and it’s hard not to laugh when they’re stumbling over each other like that, like shy schoolgirls who can’t hold a conversation without giggling, amused about nothing but each other’s presence.

“you know,” dahyun had said, the first time they’d watch the snow. “people say if you see the first snow with someone you like, you’ll fall in love.”

dahyun had her eyes on the night sky; she was simply sharing a fun fact.

tzuyu had her eyes on dahyun; she wasn’t much interested in anything else.

“really?” tzuyu replied.

“yeah,” dahyun said. “and you’ll be together forever.”

they’d watched the first snowflake fall that day, side by side by a windowsill. tzuyu had hoped what dahyun said was real.

“do you remember when we first did this?” tzuyu asks. “in high school, in your room.”

“yeah,” dahyun says, resting her head on tzuyu’s shoulder. “you know, i’d already started liking you then. i don’t know if you noticed.”

maybe if they were still in the beginnings of their relationship, tzuyu would be surprised. but now, after spending more of her life with dahyun than not, it seems such a small part in all their other, infinite instances of falling in love.

“i don’t think i did. i was kinda distracted looking at you,” tzuyu admits, then laughs. “is that why you told me about that saying? something about snow?” she knows exactly what saying it is, has never stopped thinking about it since dahyun told her, but she wants dahyun to say it again.

“if you see the first snow with someone you like," dahyun recalls. "you'll fall in love."

tzuyu feels something on the tip of her nose, and looks up at the sky. white speckles in the night, gliding downwards. snow falls slowly, dahyun watches with her.

"and you'll be together forever," tzuyu continues, watching dahyun. "do you think it's real?"

dahyun raises both her palms up, leaving tzuyu's hold. she catches a few snowflakes in them.

"i don't think there's any harm in believing in it," she says, and shows tzuyu what she's caught. "i mean, it worked for us."

tzuyu remembers what she'd told ari earlier today, i want dahyun to live with me.

wonders if it's the right time to ask, to drop the question now.

dahyun shivers, and she shakes the snowflakes off, quickly tucking herself into tzuyu's coat. tzuyu takes the opportunity to lay a kiss on dahyun's forehead, enveloping her in a hug.

"we're forever?" tzuyu asks. she knows they are, she just likes hearing dahyun say it.

"longer than forever," dahyun says. she knows tzuyu knows, but she says it because tzuyu likes it. "if i die from hypothermia right now, i'll haunt you in my grave."

tzuyu giggles; a perfectly dahyun answer, just how she likes.

snow continues falling, dahyun's hair powdered in crystalline white.

"should we go home now?" tzuyu suggests.

"let's stay like this for bit," dahyun mutters, voice muffled. she has her face buried in tzuyu's chest, hands wrapped around. it's perfectly warm, where they are right now.

tzuyu stays still for dahyun, presses her lips to the top of dahyun's head and lets the snow build around them. they're quiet for so long, she almost wonders if dahyun's fallen asleep in her arms.

it's the type of hug where they go completely pliant, fitted into each other snugly. tzuyu squeezes tightly, and she feels dahyun’s shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath, burrowing into the crook of tzuyu’s neck.

kaya, butter and ari have found their way over, licking at the snowflakes on their shoes.

“can i stay over tonight again?” dahyun mumbles after some time. “i… don’t want to drive in the snow.” she doesn’t part from tzuyu yet.

“you can stay over every night, if you want,” tzuyu says, gives dahyun another kiss on the crown of her head. “i think ari’s starting to like kaya and butter.”

“yeah,” dahyun agrees. “ari would miss kaya and butter too much.”

“and me,” tzuyu says. “i gave him really good food today, you know."

"careful,” dahyun jokes, snickering. “he might start liking you more than me."

"it's okay, don't be jealous," tzuyu teases. she nudges her nose gently into dahyun’s hair, thinks her girlfriend looks incredibly pretty under snowflakes. "i like you more than him."

"i'm honoured," dahyun laughs, full and bright.

she pulls back, presses her palms to tzuyu’s cheeks and squishes them together. dahyun grins, the edge of her lips rising until her cheekbones show, melting a little at the sight.

“cute,” she says.

she tilts her chin upwards, stands on the tips of her toes, and kisses tzuyu’s puckered lips softly.

people say if you see the first snow with someone you like, you’ll fall in love.

dahyun is perfectly warm despite the winter, tzuyu finds.

"let's go home now?” dahyun asks.

and you’ll be together forever.

“lets go home.”

love is home and love is warmth and love is silly smiles and raising pets together and missing each other when you're not together! what is love if not writing those same things over and over again and never tiring of it <3

thank you for reading! interactions appreciated very, very much :)

#twice imagines #dahyun x tzuyu #twice fluff #kim dahyun #chou tzuyu #datzu #title: doughnut by twice #yeah zero plot in this i just wanted to write abt them being lovey dovey youre right!#that is not a crime #yes dahyun is a dog mom and we dont talk abt it enough!!!#twice fics

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