#had to figure how I wanted to draw him on the fly

[nell0-0]

Based on a fic called A Wild Time at Calamity Ganon

This was a gift fic from @musical-chan about Mask ending up at the end of another hero's journey (Wild). Yeah, I'm still thinking about this fic aksgfshdn

#linked universe #lu mask #lu wild #oot link #mm link #botw link #tloz #tloz fanart #time travel shenanigans #my art #pre lu #This was a scene I really really wanted to draw #not the only one but the main one #hope you like it musical-chan #I think this is actually my first time drawing Wild #had to figure how I wanted to draw him on the fly #kinda like it so I'll probably keep it ^^

[theokusgallery]

I've just been spying on this blog and question

who Nick

is Nick Babil?

am confused

anyways Nick is stupid for Sunny

Arsenic (Nick for short) is an alternate version of Basil ! I have this post which goes into a bit more detail about him and his story.

His first name is Basil, Arsenic is his middle name. He just happened to mention it offhandedly to Sunny, who thought it was a cool unique name and decided to keep calling him that. Nick immediately started going by Arsenic instead of Basil after this. But his name is technically still Basil

#there's a couple of things i havent said yet about nick and his sunny (like how they lost their eyes for example) #that's something i dont want to spoil. #but it's... a classic. it's guessable. #there's other elements of their backstory I haven't talked about-- like their respective families #im still figuring out whether i want to make important family & friends characters OCs #or if i want to make them the rest of the omori cast just for the sake of keeping them in the AU #i'm not sure how i want to tell nick's story. i kinda made it up on the fly after i started posting about him here. #but there was already a base story i had to follow and im happy with what i did #the only stuff thats missing is the logistics of ''are these OCs or OMORI characters'' #and ''do i make this a comic series or just a collection of drawings'' #i don't want to make it a fic surprisingly. #omori #ask #dyesprout0ysphoria #arsenic

[cobrakaisb]

ciao bella

summary: you and theo spend a summer in italy, and some insecurities are revealed

word count: 849

author's note: the ending is lowkey shit, but i really liked the concept.

“theo,” you called, waiting for your boyfriend’s hum of acknowledgment before continuing. “can you rub some sunscreen on my back? i don’t want to burn.” he grumbled a response in that low tone of his, but you heard the sound of the lotion bottle, letting you know that he was fulfilling your request. 

you sighed in relief as theo rubbed the cool lotion on your back, arching ever so slightly as the feeling contrasted your sun kissed skin. he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, “relax love.” you sighed again, sinking further into the lounge chair set up on the balcony overlooking lake como. the stunning view, large villa, and established atmosphere reminded you just how rich your boyfriend was. 

when he approached you after the holiday break during fifth year with a letter and plane ticket to italy, you were shocked. it was a little unexpected, considering that your relationship was relatively new, so you found yourself hesitant to agree. it took pansy, millie, and daphne’s words of encouragement to convince you that this trip was a good idea. spending a month in italy didn’t scare you, in fact it was a bonus to get away from your own familial issues, and of course, some alone time with your boyfriend couldn’t hurt. it was the itinerary, rather, that made you question your sanity and willingness to go.

you were flying in from london to milan, via muggle transportation, where you were spending three days in a luxury hotel. from there you were going to his family’s villa at lake como, where you’d reside for two weeks, soaking up the sun and rich atmosphere. at the beginning of the third week, the two of you were taking a private car to spend the day in florence before heading to rome for another three days. the remainder of the trip would be spent between the amalfi coast and sorrento. 

the whole thing was a lot, and everything surrounding the trip exuded wealth. between the luxury hotels, first class tickets, private tours, designer outfits, and theo’s eagerness to take you on various shopping sprees, you felt like you were in over your head. granted, your family was well off, but not nearly as financially stable as theodore’s. maybe that’s why it was hard for you to truly relax; the worry about paying theo back was eating you away, slowly but surely. 

“you’re not relaxing,” he mumbled, drawing you from your racing thoughts to the serene environment. you huffed at his words. “i’m trying too,” you replied. theo could hear the worry in your voice; he could feel it emitting off you like the faint blue glow of a patronus. he set the bottle of lotion down, climbing off your back to sit in his own lounger. he turned to face you. “what are you so worried about, darling? tell me and i’ll fix it,” he begged. you knew his blue eyes were wide and pleading behind the dark frames of his sunglasses. 

“i don’t know how you’ll be able to fix it. it think i just need to figure it out on my own,” you explained softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, or make him feel like you were withholding information from him. (even though you technically were.) by the end of your sentence, theo had moved from his chair back to yours, taking a hold of your hand. 

his olive skin was warm and a shade darker than usual, probably from all the sun you’d been getting these past couple of weeks. his thumb rubbed gently across the back of your hand, a habit that he developed as a way to soothe your nerves and anxiety. you sighed, a deep one at that, before opening your mouth to confess. before you could truly process what you were saying, filtering the things that you didn’t necessarily want him to know, you had told theo everything; how you felt like you’d never be able to pay him back, and how you wondered if splurging on you was really worth it.  

once you finished, you took another breath to calm yourself down. you risked a hesitant glance at theodore, who’s grip on your hand had tightened over the course of your rambling. it was silent between the two of you, and you were afraid to break it. finally, theo licked his lips before looking towards you. “fuck darling, don’t ever worry about that. you being here is all the payback i need,” he explained softly, his free hand tracing the bridge of your nose. 

“theo,” you trailed off, but he silenced you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “you’re wearing my ring, yeah?” he asked, gesturing to the silver ring that hung on a chain around your neck. “always,” you answered. “exactly. what’s mine is yours, and it forever will be,” he replied, kissing the back of your hand as you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“now sit back and relax.” maybe spending a month with theo, the boy you loved, in italy wasn’t such a bad idea.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #harry potter imagine #cobrakaisb writing

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)

Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?

And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.

+18 mdni

cw: p in v sex, cockwarming

It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.

As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.

You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.

“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.

Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.

“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”

You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.

A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.

Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”

You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.

“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.

You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.

The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.

“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.

Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.

He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”

#eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu #thank you anonnnnnn #eddie munson smut

[rileyslibrary]

may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc

doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰

thankyouu🥺✨

I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫

———————————————————————

Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.

His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.

The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.

The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.

While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.

Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.

You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.

You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.

Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”

“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”

His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.

“Why the glitter?” he asks.

“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.

“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.

“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.

“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”

“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”

He lets out a sarcastic scoff.

“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.

He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.

You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”

He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.

They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.

You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.

He is livid.

“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.

“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”

“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”

“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”

“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”

Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.

Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.

“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.

“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.

You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”

“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”

“And I had only one sheet of paper.”

“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.

“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”

They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.

“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”

“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.

“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”

———————————————————————

A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost mw2

[prettiestlovergirl]

DISCONNECTED

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; semi-public sex; teasing; almost getting caught; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it); oral fixation! reader; family friend! luke castellan.

concept: going on vacation to your family's beach house with your favorite family friend. song: disconnected by 5sos.

a/n: oh how i love family friend luke castellan. also, sex in a bikini. that is definitely a plus. for pool house context, i'm imagining one like slightly smaller than the one in the OC. this is supersuper unedited. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

when your mom informed you that the castellan's were joining you guys for your yearly spring break trip to your family's beach house, you'd been fucking ecstatic.

you played it cool in front of your mom, of course. just smiled and said it sounded fun, you couldn't wait to see them again and catch up. you had to play it cool, telling your mom you were looking forward to catching up with mind-blowing sex was not an option.

unfortunately for you both, you hadn't gotten a moment alone. there was always a sibling or parent interfering in every single private moment the two of you had.

until today, that is.

you had resigned yourself to having an orgasm-free vacation, deciding to instead spend as much time as possible in the pool, the cool water acting like a giant cold shower.

you got up early, hoping to relish in some of the silence at the pool without any smaller kids running around. you figured you were the only one awake, so you had no issues wearing one of your smaller bikinis.

you'd been in the middle of placing your sunglasses on your face when you suddenly felt two hands wrap around your waist. you yelped in surprise, hand flying over your heart when you heard a familiar laugh in your ear.

"jesus, luke! you scared the shit out of me!" you huffed, smacking his chest roughly while he continued to laugh at your surprise. god, you didn't realize how much you missed his laughter against your skin.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry." luke grinned, pressing a quick kiss behind your ear before he went on. "let me make it up to you?" he hummed suggestively, hands lightly squeezing your hips.

"knowing our luck, someone's gonna wake up right now and cockblock me." you grumbled, biting your lip as he started pressing soft kisses along your neck that made you shiver despite the april heat.

"then let's go into the pool house. no one'll think to check there first." he hummed, nipping at your skin hard enough to make your breath hitch. you finally relented, just nodding your head. you didn't trust your voice not to come out all breathy.

luke led the two of you to the small pool house, locking the door behind you before pouncing almost immediately. his lips met yours in a hungry kiss, drawing out a desperate whine from you.

it had been far too fucking long since you'd had his lips on yours like this, it had been pure fucking torture having him be so close for this past week and be unable to touch him.

your hands roamed all over his bare chest, desperate to feel every inch of his skin, feeling for any new scars or marks he'd gotten since the last time you'd seen him.

"fuck, i wanna take my time with you, but there's no time." he murmured against your lips, groaning softly against you. you tightened your grip on him, gently grinding your hips against the bulge in his swim trunks.

"s'okay, don't care, just fuck me." you moaned, relishing in the feel of his skin against yours. he grunted as your hips rolled against him, quickly pushing you back towards the white chaise lounge in the center of the room.

he helped you lay back against the pillow, not once pulling his lips off of yours. he'd waited far too long to bruise your lips with his, he didn't plan on breaking until he absolutely needed to.

you laid against the pillow, one leg bent up on the chaise lounge while the other hung off the side so you'd be spread open for him, just like he wanted.

luke moved one of his hands down, slipping it under the fabric of your bikini. he rubbed his finger over your entrance, moaning at just how fucking wet you were for him already. it was certainly good to know you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

finally, he broke the kiss and you whined as he pulled away, despite the fact that you were now practically gasping for air. "need you to hold this to the side, baby" he told you, panting lightly before pressing his lips to your throat.

you brought your hand down, pulling the small strap of fabric covering your aching pussy to the side and holding it there. he ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips, taking another mental picture of how fucking gorgeous you looked all spread open for him.

if he had it his way, he'd just bury his tongue in you right then and there, but there was no time. "never gonna get tired of this sight." he informed you, his free hand bringing his throbbing cock out from his swim trunks.

he lined himself up to your glistening pussy before thrusting inside of you, drawing moans out of you both on impact. your back arched against the chaise, mouth open as you felt the delicious sting of your walls stretching to fit him.

you'd think that after the amount of times you two had fucked, he'd fit without much of a struggle, but alas, here you were. "fuck, baby." luke groaned, hands moving back to grip your hips tightly.

"fuck, luke, give me your fingers, need to muffle." you moaned, eyes focused on him while he started to thrust into you. he did as you asked, releasing the grip on your hip with one hand and letting you grab hold.

he started thrusting fast and hard, your eyes squeezing shut as you moaned out before bringing three of his fingers into your mouth. you sucked and swirled your tongue around the digits, making him groan as his eyes watched.

"god, you look so fucking hot like that." he grunted, his pace picking up more as you looked at him. the feeling of your cunt gripping him like a vice and your tongue coating his fingers in your saliva spurred him on.

"harder" you moaned around his fingers as he fucked you, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. your voice came out muffled and wet, drool and spit slipping down chin as he moved faster into you.

you let out more muffled moans, hips bucking up to meet his every thrust as he fucked into you. your foot stayed up on the tips of your toes, body buzzing with the attention it craved for so long.

luke's eyes were fixed solely on where you two were joined together, watching the way his cock got lost amongst your soaked walls again and again.

your arousal created a thick, creamy white ring around the base of his cock that he fucking relished in. he just couldn't take his eyes off you, the way your pussy clenched every time he moved out and fluttered when he shoved back in.

"fuck, g'na cum!" you moaned, mouth hanging open with his fingers still in your mouth. he started fucking into you even faster, wrapping your bent leg around his waist to go even deeper into you.

"hold on just a little longer, baby, fuck, just a little longer" he grunted, grip on your body tightening so he could fuck into you harder, getting close to cumming himself.

"shit, shit, fuck!" you cried out as your legs quivered around him until you finally came, drenching his cock in your pussy juices and creating a loud, wet slapping noise as he continued to fuck you rough and fast.

"oh, fuck, c'mon, fuck, cum for me, luke, please, want to see you cum" you moaned out, your hips bucking up once again to meet his thrusts and take him in deeper to help him get closer.

"oh, fuck, do that again" luke demanded, eyes closing as you bucked your hips up again to meet his thrusts until he quickly pulled out of you.

he wrapped his hand around his cock, fisting it immediately before cumming on your stomach with a groan. "fuck, babe..." he panted, the two of you slumped in silence for a moment.

he pulled his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva trailing behind them as he swiped them through his cum on your chest. wordlessly, you pulled his hand back up to your lips, cleaning the cum off his fingers while he watched with rapt attention.

he'd been about to say more when he heard the doorknob start to jiggle. "luke? is that you?" your dad's voice called, snapping you instantly out of your dizzy post-orgasm haze. you quickly grabbed your towel, wiping your chest off.

"yeah! what's up?" luke called, looking at you with wide eyes as he started to quickly put his dick back in his shorts. "have you seen y/n?" your dad questioned, making your eyes widen.

"uh.. yeah! yeah, she went down to the beach like twenty minutes ago. wanted some alone time, i think!" he lied, biting his lip gently. "oh, alright."

he waited until your dad's footsteps trailed off before letting out a sigh of relief. "shit, that could have been bad." he murmured, glancing back over at the door.

you let out a giggle as you slumped back down against the chaise lounge, biting your cheek to try and stop your smile as he glared at you.

"so, now that he's gone... round two?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes ! #luke castellan #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #pjo luke #luke castellan smut #pjo #pjo smut

[bet-on-me-13]

Lois Lane is actually Ellie Phantom

Idea came from a comment @ourrechte-blog made on This post

So, back when Ellie was traveling the world, she saw quite a few things that she really didn't like. War Crimes, Humans Rights Violations, Poverty, etc.

And she really wanted to draw some attention to those problems, but she knew that as some random kid those stories would never receive the press they deserved. So she decided to Become the press instead.

She went back to Danny, who was also on the run, and they both got new Identities. Danny became Sam "Daniel" Lane, and Ellie became Lois "Ellie" Lane. (Also she reverted to her true age, so the ages matched up)

Ellie, now Lois, began to go to School so she could establish her new identity. Eventually, she managed to get to College, Graduated, and got a Job at the biggest newpaper she could, the Daily Planet.

She was now living her best life. She was a credited reporter, her dad was a Military General, and she was spreading the word about all the problems in the world that often got overlooked.

Then, one day, Lois met a really nice guy named Clark Kent. He was such a sweetheart, and had such a kind personality. She was immediately smitten.

Even Danny liked him, and Danny barely liked anyone for fear of them hurting his daughter.

And it got even better when she figured out that he was Superman, a Superhero just like her dad used to be. She proved it when she jumped off of the roof of the Daily Planet and he caught her. (She was never in danger, she can fly too. But she did decide that even if he wasn't superman, she trusted him enough to tell him that she had powers)

They got married, and one day Clark came home looking disturbed about something.

Apparently he just found out that a company called Cadmus had tried to Clone him.

She was not happy when he told her that he didn't want to accept the kid.

"Clark. So help me Ancients, if you left that poor boy alone and rejected him after he did nothing wrong I am going to string you up by your toenails and let my Uncle Fright go to town on you with his Magic Sword!"

"I-I know what I did was wrong honey, but why are you so angry about it?!"

"Clark, I'm also a Clone! You know I don't have a Mom, how did you never ask my dad or me about that!?"

"I thought he was dead or something! I'm sorry!"

"We'll talk about this later, let's go talk to that poor kid."

"Yes ma'am."

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc #Dcu #Danny Phantom #Ellie Phantom #Danielle Phantom #Dani Phantom #Lois Lane #Clark Kent #Ellie/Lois is mad at her husband #How could he leave that poor defenseless boy alone like that? #He would be sleeping on the couch for months! #Conner is adopted by Ellie/Lois instantly #No Clone Baby is going to be abandoned on her watch!!! #Danny is so proud #Less so about Clark but they can work on that #Danny became a general so he could take down the GIW from the inside #He succeeded #He chose Sam as his new name to either annoy Sam or honor her #Maybe both

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill. 

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents. 

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are. 

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you. 

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it. 

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise. 

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump. 

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.” 

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed. 

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule. 

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo. 

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.” 

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking. 

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes. 

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne. 

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds. 

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation. 

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.” 

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat. 

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue. 

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat. 

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition. 

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do. 

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve. 

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats. 

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats. 

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off. 

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows. 

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you. 

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team. 

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines. 

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks. 

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper. 

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same. 

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure. 

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all. 

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug. 

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air. 

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin. 

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap. 

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?” 

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day. 

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place. 

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust. 

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful. 

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look. 

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body. 

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it. 

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong. 

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie. 

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer. 

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth. 

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye. 

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers. 

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin. 

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours. 

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck. 

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades. 

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles. 

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously. 

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible. 

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory. 

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave. 

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high. 

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs. 

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath. 

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today. 

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.” 

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started. 

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain. 

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone. 

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is. 

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart. 

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance. 

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation. 

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

--

💚

#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 angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[battymommastuff]

A Night with the Knight

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

Wherever you were, it was warm. Warm, but cold at the same time. You felt safe, but you were also in danger. Maybe the danger was the freaky cult that tried recruiting you. The warmth, you came to realize was a blanket draped across your body. You'd woken up in a dark, unfamiliar place for the second time tonight. The sound of rushing water filled your ears along with the faint buzzing of the dim lights, and sounds of machines in every direction. 

This place was far too dark to be a hospital, and you were glad for that. Any public setting was the last place you wanted to be right now. The last thing you remembered was Batman hovering over you after saving you from your kidnappers. After that were faint memories from you going in and out of consciousness. The city flying by faster than it ever did, the masked face of the man who saved you, and brief images of a black tailcoat with white gloves. All of these images were taking their sweet time processing in your mind. Your entire body felt like it was hit by a train despite you having the body of an acrobat. 

Slowly, you got out of the hospital bed you were in. You wanted to find somebody. It was too quiet, and it felt like you had eyes on you at all times...which you did. Walking out of the little room you were in, you saw a massive screen that lit up the area around it. Pictures of your captors, the leader of the Court...and several members of the circus were all over the screen. You looked down to see the back of Batman's head as he typed away on the keyboard, "How are you feeling?" He asked, suddenly. You jumped then looked around. No one else was around, but how did he know you were there? You didn't make any noise. 

"A-A little sore..." You answered while closing your robe around your body more. The warmth you felt was definitely from the blanket you had when you woke. It was freezing in here, "Where am I? I figured you would drop me off at the nearest hospital and leave me there." You asked, with a small laugh at the end. Batman stopped typing on the computer and turned his chair to face you. He stood up, and you were in awe at his size. Not only was he tall, he was very well built. No wonder it was so easy for him to take down all those Court members. You felt very intimidated by his presence, but oddly attracted to it. 

"You're in the Batcave. It's too dangerous to take you into any public setting. You have knowledge of the most dangerous group in the city, the entire Court is no doubt hunting for you." Batman explained, in the most monotone voice. You already knew this, but hearing it just made it worse. Where would you go? All of your possessions, money, your life was still at the Circus. You didn't have any family that cared for you anymore, and you had nowhere safe to go. The more you thought about your life being over, the more emotional you got. It made the man in front of you highly uncomfortable to watch you break down. 

"You could have broken the bad news to her in a more gentle way. Maybe start with offering her warm clothes, Sir?" A British voice asked, followed by the sounds of footsteps coming down metal steps. You wiped your eyes quickly then looked over to see the man in the tailcoat that you saw briefly. His face was very familiar, but where? As he stepped closer, your eyes widened. This man was the butler of billionaire Bruce Wayne. You've seen him in pictures as well as on the news when Bruce Wayne made an appearance at events for the city. You looked from him to Batman, and you could tell from the uncovered parts of his face who was under the mask. It seemed that Batman also knew what you were thinking, so he lowered his mask.

"Would you like some warm clothes?" 

"Ugh...excuse him, his bedside manner is in need of work." 

You looked between the two men who just told you the one thing that the entire world wanted to know, and acted as if it wasn't a big deal. Did they trust you to keep the secret? Of course you would keep it, but how did they know they could trust you? Did they have some memory wiping device that would erase your memory after they got what they needed out of you? Judging from the tech that covered the place, it didn't seem that far fetched, "W-Why are you telling me your identity?" You finally ask after several seconds of awkward silence. 

"I'm going to move you into my manor, that I way I can monitor you as well as get information about the circus." Batman answered while turning back towards the computer. Your jaw dropped a bit. He didn't even consider if you wanted to live with him or not. Not that you were going to turn it down. The chance to live in a mansion? You'd be stupid to refuse, "I will retrieve your things later, but I will take you to buy a new wardrobe in the morning." You're going to be spoiled too? Maybe you should be thanking the Court for kidnapping you. 

"I suppose I should thank you then, Mr. Wayne." You said with a small smile. He turned towards you and gave you a small smirk. 

"Call me Bruce."

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TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl-69 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @irelanrose @asterelz @angelxx7 @millies0bsimp @marie0v @starmansirius @amberpanda99 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @inutheangel

#batman #batmom #batmom imagines #damian wayne x reader #dc comics #dick grayson x batmom #jason todd x batmom #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne #red hood #batman and robin #robin #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #batman fluff #batman x reader #batfamily #nightwing

[florwons]

‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧

synopsis you hated niki. he hated you. despite your ongoing rivalry, your recent arm injury seems to have had an unexpected effect on your so-called enemy. rather than making fun of your injury, he's shown a surprising twist of kindness by wanting to draw on your cast instead.

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings profanity, injury, just niki and reader being a bickering mess !! typical rival things

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen wc 2303 !

note first enha work !! first time on blr and i think i’m getting a hang of it.. took too much time figuring out everything though 😵‍💫. i guess this happens when you’re bored (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) anyhow, i just think niki fits e2ls !! also i think he fits this cute idea i was thinking about so why not combine the two ?? might also create a part 2 to this !!

— wanna read part 2 ? coming soon!

"Wow, two whole months for it to heal? I’m sure it hurt, didn’t it?" Danielle exclaimed, her expression filled with shock as she glanced from your cast to your face. The two of you were seated next to each other during your first period, giving her a chance to closely examine your injury.

"Yeah," you replied with a touch of sarcasm, a sigh escaping your lips as you gazed at the plain, white cast encasing your arm. "Just the sort of thing that can happen when you take up a part-time job at a convenience store. But, my doctor assured me it's not too serious, so this arm should be back to its usual self soon!" You lightly tapped your arm with your free hand, showing her that you’re completely fine.

"Well, it's still frustrating to have to let it heal for that long," she pouted, receiving a light chuckle from you. Extending your uninjured arm, you gently held her hand, offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry, Danielle. Two months will fly by."

You were truly grateful for a friend like Danielle, who consistently showed concern for your well-being. It made you wonder why your life couldn't be filled with people like her instead of people like him. But no, the universe had different plans and had given you Niki, your classmate, or rather your enemy.

This rivalry with Niki had its roots all the way back to elementary school, and due to both of your stubbornness, it had been brought into your high school years. Poor Danielle found herself caught in this mess, being friends with both of you. You did feel bad for involving her, but the blame fell largely on Niki, who seemed to exist solely to get under your skin.

"Does... you-know-who... know about your injury? You guys walk to and from here together," Danielle hesitated, bringing up him in the conversation cautiously. You shook your head and replied, "No, not as far as I know. I actually left a bit early today—oh no."

Your hand instinctively moved to your forehead, the beginnings of a headache forming from the thought. Danielle let out a small gasp, concern evident in her expression. "What's wrong, YN? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine—wait, no, I'm not!"

"Why? What's the matter?"

"It's Niki! I just remembered that he's probably going to make fun of my injury for the entire two months." You slumped in your chair, already envisioning the scenarios in your mind. "That asshole."

“You actually got me worried!”

"Sorry, but this is something you should be worried about! Niki's constant teasing might be the end of me!"

"YN, you'll handle it. You both argue every day, anyway," Danielle said with a dismissive tone, not fully grasping how serious the issue felt to you. After all, Niki having another reason to mock you during class was far from trivial.

You sighed, realizing that you really wished for your arm to heal as quickly as possible.

In what seemed like no time at all, the second period arrived—a bit faster than usual. You hurried into the classroom, aiming to get into your seat promptly. But there was no use of that if he’s your seatmate! Just why couldn’t it be Danielle? You silently cursed your teacher for arranging the seating this way. More people started filling the classroom, and Niki’s unmistakable blonde hair caught your attention — he was walking your way.

His gaze fixed strangely on your arm as you withdrew it from the desk, letting it hang at your side. You deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, unwilling to deal with his presence at the moment. The scrape of his chair against the floor caught your ear, prompting you to take a deep breath. "Already pissed?" His voice carried a teasing tone, and you could practically feel the smirk in his words, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Aw, you got my routine down already?” You scoffed, placing your notebook on your desk. You were determined to shut out his annoying voice, but of course, life had other plans. "Seems like it. Just call it the Niki effect, I guess."

"Yeah, a real heartwarming effect," you replied monotonously, your attention shifting to the front of the classroom. In the corner of your eye, you could see him take out a notebook as well. You silently hoped he'd simply focus on his work and not pay attention to you, though it seemed he had different intentions.

“What’s up with your arm?” he points at your injured arm with his pencil. Now that made you wish you could snap that pencil in half. Nonetheless, you managed to maintain your composure, or at least tried to, as you responded calmly. "Oh, you know, just your typical arm-breaking experience. Nothing major—just a cozy two-month wait for it to return to normal."

"I didn't need a breakdown of your recovery process, but I suppose thank you for letting me know,” Niki remarked, adjusting his seat position. "Wouldn't expect any less from someone like you."

Holding onto your pencil, the pressure of it snapped its lead, and you clenched your teeth in frustration. "Do you ever know when to just keep your mouth shut?" you retorted, your tone edged with irritation.

"It's one of my finer qualities—maybe you should catch up," he shot back, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

"Sure thing. Just do me a favor and stay quiet for two months, will you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me?"

"Me sparing you from my rude remarks—just not like what you're doing right now."

“Can’t make any promises,” He dragged the last word, making you sigh. He smiled slightly, knowing he knew exactly how to piss you off.

The bell rang, and relief washed over you like a wave. Hastily gathering your belongings, you were so focused on getting out of the classroom that you failed to notice Niki's gaze on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you headed toward Danielle. Unknown to you, Niki's attention lingered, a subconscious concern for your well-being flickering in his mind.

"Niki? Niki!" Jungwon tapped him on the shoulder, causing Niki to start slightly. Wait, what was he doing just now? Before he could analyze his actions, Jungwon pulled him from his thoughts. "You seemed out of it for a bit. Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I spaced out for a second. Let's not miss our third period, alright?" Niki hurriedly packed his things, walking alongside Jungwon, his earlier behavior still puzzling him.

Niki's earlier slip-up had him lost in thought, and it continued especially during P.E. class. His eyes were drawn to you, sitting on the bleachers with a bored expression, casually observing the movement of the others. Then, unexpectedly, you excused yourself and headed toward the nurse's office. Niki found himself continuing to watch you, his focus on you more than anything else around.

"Hey, Niki!" A familiar voice brought his attention away from you, just in time to see a ball hurtling his way. He attempted to react, but the ball had already hit his arm. Wincing, he gripped his arm, a small crowd forming around him. Mr. Kim scolded him, and Niki nodded in acknowledgment—it was his fault for not paying attention.

“Take this pass and go get an ice pack,” Mr. Kim said, already finishing up the pass for him. At first, he contemplated declining, but then he remembered that you were in the nurse's office.

This was the fastest he ever grabbed a pass. His movements were swift as he exited the gym and quickly navigated the route to the nurse's office, hoping he could arrive before you left.

He knocked on the door, and a soft voice invited him in. Stepping inside, he found you seated in one of the chairs. Your surprise was evident as you looked at him, his hand resting on his left arm—the same one you had injured. He observed as he grabbed an ice pack before making his way over to where you were sitting.

In the row of chairs, he left a space between you, taking a seat. Your voice broke the silence, teasingly suggesting, "Starting to think you're obsessed with me." Niki couldn't help but scoff lightly as he settled in.

While you weren't exactly off the mark with your comment, admitting such a thing to you was out of the question. He waved off your words with a dismissive tone, "Me? Obsessed with you? Sure, as if."

A quiet pause settled between you both, and subtle glances were exchanged. Breaking the silence, you remarked, "Seems like you're about to join me, huh?"

He looked at you with confusion etched on his face, only to glance down at his arm and yours—both injured in the same spot. Niki couldn't help but chuckle softly, acknowledging that you were right. "Well, not quite as bad as your situation."

"Shut up." Niki's laughter filled the air, and for the first time, you found his laugh endearing—a thought you quickly brushed off. You simply smiled at his boxy grin. Has his smile always been this charming?

Niki realized he had let his guard down, his throat clearing as he subtly corrected himself. He needed to maintain the distance he had always kept between you two—at least for now.

"What are you doing here?" you started to answer, but he interrupted himself, realizing his mistake. "I shouldn't have asked, I mean, look at your arm."

There was the Niki you still had so much hate for. "If I had both arms, I'd strangle you right here."

"But you can't."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder, idiot—as if I wasn't already aware," you retorted, rising from your seat. He wouldn't be entirely honest if he didn't admit part of him wanted you to leave. It was strange, but he always felt a certain oddness when you weren't nearby. "Can't wait for you to make jokes about my injured arm at every given opportunity."

Your words sparked an idea in him, and as you turned to leave, he was already formulating a plan — his way of getting closer to you than before.

That's exactly what he did. Every chance he got to be near you, he seized it. His motives remained a mystery – was his plan to push you further away? If so, it was definitely working, as he managed to piss you off with every passing moment. Niki couldn't forget the way you clenched your teeth and let out exasperated sighs whenever he was around. He acknowledged he was being a nuisance, but was there really any other choice?

Could he just flip a switch and suddenly be friendly? That would be too suspicious, wouldn't it? Still, there was an inner push for him to say something decent for once.

And now, here he was, sitting beside you, gazing at your plain cast. Two weeks had already gone by – why hadn't anyone doodled on it yet? He hesitated before gently tapping your arm, causing you to look at him, your expression vacant. You were ready for him to bring up your arm again, almost as if you expected him to repeat his hurtful comments again.

“What? I swear if you make fun of my arm–”

"Can I draw on your cast?" He uttered the words, seemingly without a second thought, catching you completely off guard. Why this sudden change? Could he possibly be planning to write something embarrassing? Then again, your cast did look rather dull, almost too depressing to glance at. But, you still had your doubts.

“What? What if you draw something weird–”

“Come on, I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“Literally who do you think you are–”

“I’m your classmate, loser. Think I can’t be nice for once?” His words left you stunned, and you watched him retrieve a sharpie from his bag. He uncapped it, motioning for your arm to move closer to him. However, you found yourself hesitating, which prompted him to raise an eyebrow ever so slightly. "May I?" he asked.

You didn’t know what went through his head, and yours too! Before you knew it, you were extending your arm to him, watching as he concentrated on writing and drawing on your cast. He held it gently, clearly being cautious not to cause you any discomfort. You were undeniably intrigued by his actions, even though his presence was obstructing your view – not that you cared anyways.

Soon, he finished, closing the lid to his marker. The bell rang, almost as if on cue, causing him to hurry out of the classroom. It was as if the roles swapped, he was now the one rushing out quickly. His abrupt exit left you wondering – why was he so nervous? He didn’t know either, maybe he was suddenly being nice with his rival.

As you finally glanced at your cast, your eyes fell on the words he had written: "Hope you heal quickly, loser." Right beside the message was a small drawing of Shin-chan sticking his tongue out. This time you found yourself breaking into a smile, rather than being irritated.

"So you're telling me I could have been writing about your cast this whole time?" Danielle exclaims, her eyes fixed on the doodles now on your cast. She stops, examining the drawings more closely. "Hold on, isn't that Niki's handwriting?" Without giving you a chance to explain, Danielle is already teasing you mercilessly.

You knew you couldn’t argue back with her. After all, how could you explain the decision to let your rival draw on your cast? You gazed at the doodles once more, finding yourself involuntarily breaking into a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, you'd allow him to draw on your cast again.

Yeah, you were totally out of it.

#📁 — feis works ! #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen ff #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki #niki ff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki fanfic #niki fanfiction #niki headcanons #niki imagines #niki scenarios #niki fluff #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop x reader #kpop x you #kpop headcanons #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop

[hai7ani]

divorced parents au / with your faves

When your daughter turned two, you and your husband had brought her to Disneyland as her birthday gift. Growing up, Umi was always fond of the 12 Disney Princesses ー more specifically Princess Belle ー and she keeps a photograph of her and Belle at a meet and greet on her nightstand. Her father's half-expected her favourite to be Ariel, given that Ariel and Umi do go pretty well together. (Ariel and the sea.)

In Disneyland that summer your baby has had the time of her life, so she starts asking for it every birthday (which slowly turned into every milestone) and up until then you both have had no issues with bringing her there. He'd told you once that if going there makes her happy then he was willing to visit again, no matter the amount of times and the slight boringness he'd have to face when waiting in line to go on rides or booths.

Today she had learned how to properly draw a flying bird in art class after failing a few times and drew flying chickens instead. When you picked her up from school, the first thing she said after showing you her art proudly was, 'Let's go to Disneyland, Mama! Let's go with Daddy!'

You would bring her if you could. You know you would in a heartbeat.

But it has been two years since her last visit to Disneyland, and you and your husband aren't together anymore.

So when he comes over for dinner tonight ー just like he has been every Friday without miss ever since your divorce ー you show him Umi's drawing of the flying bird.

"Can I bring this back with me? I'd like to frame it up." He asks. In his head he plans to hang it on the wall of his living room, right on top of his television, next to your family portrait.

You eat a piece of the orange he'd peeled. "Of course."

/

At noon when your daughter asked, you told her no. So at night she is tugging on her father's shirt with a red face full of tears and she is begging for him to stay.

"Stay here, daddy. Don't go." She cries to him at the foyer. Only one side of his shoe is put on and he kicks it away quick when she attempts to climb into his arms.

"You'll see me again on Sunday, Mimi." He attempts to console her. "We're gonna go to the mall together 'n we'll find the toy you've been wanting."

Her father scoops her into his arms and sits on the floor. She kicks her feet in the air and wails.

"But I want to go to Disneyland with you and Mama." She sobs into his arms. He pecks her crown and shushes her a little.

When your chest gets too heavy you push yourself off the wall you've been leaning against and turn your back to them.

(You've been watching the duo since the moment her father was putting on his shoe, ready to leave, and your daughter came running after him in her pyjamas with wet tears already streaming down her cheeks.)

And Umi continues to cry while her father rocks her in his arms, trying his best to console her.

While walking away from the scene, you pick on the skin around your thumb. Your nose sours and you try pinching it in hopes of soothing it a little.

"Why d'ya wanna go to Disneyland?" You hear him ask before you disappear into the hallway. It's funny how he still asks even though you and him both know that going or not going to Disneyland was never the problem.

Umi sniffles. Her father hums for her to say it.

You hide behind the door of your bedroom.

"I want Mama, Daddy and Umi together again."

Just the three of us together in Umi's favourite place.

You cry.

/

"She's asleep now."

You pause from folding laundry at the couch and look up. He's got both hands in his pockets and a soft smile planted on his face.

He's also a mess, you notice ー his shirt a little stretched and out of place from how hard your daughter had been tugging on it earlier, the fabric wet from tear and snot stains, his hair a bit disheveled (you figure he was resting beside her when putting her to sleep), and he's moving to sit beside you on the couch now.

You smile back. "Thank you. I haven't been able to calm her down easily these days."

He picks up one of the garments from the pile and starts folding it beside you. "It's fine. You know I like doing it." I like being a dad, is what he wishes to say. But he knows you know it already and he holds his tongue.

Neither of you say a thing to each other after that and he continues helping you with the laundry. He folds your bra the way you prefer and your daughter's school uniform neatly so that it doesn't crease.

You steal a few glances at him without shame while stacking his sweatpants onto his pile of clothes.

"Your hair's getting long." You comment.

"Is it?" He raises his brows, genuinely wanting to know.

"Yeah." You reach a hand up to comb through his soft strands of hair. You push them back and try parting it on the middle.

"I've been busy." He's got a boxy, kind of nervous smile on his face when he explains. "Can't really see well through the mirror anyway." He rubs his nape.

You chuckle. "Want me to cut it for you?"

"Okay."

/

You still keep a room for your ex-husband even after the end of your marriage and he's given you the house.

You like telling yourselves it's solely for the sake of your daughter, for when she misses her father a little too much and refuses to let him leave.

But both of you know that's not really the case.

Somehow it didn't feel right when he was in the process of moving out to his new apartment somewhere in Meguro, and you slowly realise that you'd be having an empty room all to yourself.

(Back then you didn't think you could cope with living alone in the house you used to love each other in ー in the house you'd both created a life in.

You still don't now. Not really, anyway.)

So you transform the room that used to be his study into his own bedroom just right across the master (yours). He didn't reject the idea when you told him so.

And because of this, you leave your bedroom door open whenever he stays the night.

Tonight you do it again, and you watch him across the hall, in his room, drying off his freshly cut hair. Your head is resting on the edge of the bed with one hand tucked under your cheek and the other playing with a plush toy he'd gifted you many years ago.

When he turns to hang his towel on the wall he sees you like this. You don't shy away when he smirks.

"Goodnight." You mouth to him. You stay like that until he leaves his door open and finally gets in bed ー until he, too, shuffles around, and dangles his head off the edge of his own bed.

"Goodnight." He mouths it back to you.

You spend some time looking at each other like that ー really taking your realities in ー in rooms across each other with heads dangling off the edge of your beds, two hearts connected by the sea, and your daughter asleep in the room next to yours.

On most nights he comes over sometime during the night and helps you back on your pillow when you accidentally fall asleep like this, and every time, you'd unconsciously tug on his arm and beg him not to go.

He stays every single time.

Tonight, however, he pads over to your room while you're still awake with a pillow clutched in one hand.

"Hi." You scoot on the bed to make space for him as he throws his pillow next to yours and lays down beside you ー face to face, heart to heart. "Hey." He sighs upon getting comfortable on the bed he'd grown to find so much comfort in.

You bring the blanket up to cover his shoulders. He scoots closer to you, sneaks a hand under your shirt, and rubs a warm hand up and down your spine. (You always sleep better when he rubs your back like this.)

And while falling asleep you think to yourself that perhaps someday you'll get to try again as lovers.

You know for a fact that you'll always love him in your heart, and you'll never stop loving him even though it doesn't really make sense anymore ー just like how he'd sworn to never love again after your divorce.

Perhaps someday the both of you would be ready to move on ー still loving each other, but ready to move on from your past, from your love.

And perhaps someday the two of you wouldn't have to argue about money or time anymore. Perhaps someday he'll find a suitable work-life balance, and you're able to trust him enough to keep himself safe at work.

But for now, he's content with rubbing your back as you fall asleep next to him in the bed you'd once shared. You're content with the flowers he still buys you from time to time and cutting his hair whenever it grows out.

For now, you know that you're not ready to move on just yet. Both of you are not, and both of you have something else in mind...

You want to try again.

And you know that trying again will not be easy, but you both also know that you're willing to start all over again with everything you have if given the chance, the opportunity.

Maybe someday.

Maybe you'll give it more time.

(You feel a nudge on your elbow.)

Or...

"Wanna go to Disneyland tomorrow?"

(You smile.)

"Yes."

...Maybe tomorrow?

(He reddens all over.)

"Okay."

You'll see.

(just some characters i have in mind) TOKYO REVENGERS RAN, RINDOU, KAKUCHO, DRAKEN, NAOTO JUJUTSU KAISEN GOJO, NANAMI BLUE LOCK SAE, RIN HAIKYUU KITA, OSAMU & your faves

(i have never been to disneyland before. 😹)

© HAI7ANI ON TUMBLR. DO NOT STEAL

#寫作 #rindou x reader #ran x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #sae x reader #rin x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #bllk x reader #haikyuu x reader #tokyo revengers #jujutsu kaisen #blue lock #jjk x reader #haikyuu #draken x reader #kakucho x reader #jjk #bllk #tokrev #anime #manga #rindou haitani

[adams-angels]

Hello dear writer! Whenever you have time would you consider doing a fluff and maybe smut piece about how Adam would be on a restaurant date? I’m so curious how he would act since they didn’t have dates when he was alive a trillion billion million years ago.

And Valentine’s Day has me way up in the feels 🥹

Thank you bebe 🩵

A bit late for Valentine's day but better late than never babes 😎 this was longer than I was expecting 🫢

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Valentines

It's been a while since Adams been on a "date" if you could even call it that. The last "date" he had was with Eve in the Garden of Eden. So... Yeah. A while might be an understatement. He also hated the day. Like many holidays. Why should SaInT vAlEnTiNe get a whole holiday after him?! Adam is the ORIGINAL dick. If anything there should be a holiday celebrated for HIM. But, whatever. You were into it. And he was into you.

He was so nervous when he asked you out for Valentine's day. He waited until last minute before finally getting the courage to ask. Ten o'clock at night he frantically knocked at your door. You hurried to answer, the panic filled your body at the knocking. It was desperate, like someone needed help. When you opened the door and saw a panting Adam you were confused. Was he hurt? Before you could say anything he put his hand up to your face signaling you to not speak as he caught his breath. It was odd why he was out of breath. He flies everywhere. Did he run? "Be- huff- will you- jesus, fuck- pant-" his hand were on his knees as he choked on his breath. "Ada-" hand in your face. Rude. He straightened himself out, at least as much as he could in the small apartment hallway. The apartment was made for smaller Winners not 8 foot Giants like Adam. "Be my Valentine?" He panted out. Of course you said yes! What can you say? You've been crushing on him for, like, ever! You never picked up that he likes you back. Even though he was never subtle. "Cool- pant- text you the deetz." He shot you some finger guns before leaving.

So now it's Valentine's day! 💘 Cupid's shot his arrow and hit you. You're feeling fun, flirty, and feisty. You put on your cutest outfit and checked yourself in the mirror. Is cute what you're going for? It's your first date. But it is Valentine's day. You don't wanna be prudish. You change into something a bit more revealing and again checked yourself. This might be a bit too sexy.. slutty even! You don't want to give the impression that you put out of the first day! Even if you do. No. This needs to be perfect. You think to yourself... "I bet Adam isn't having this much trouble."

You weren't wrong. Adam was much more relaxed. Too relaxed. Why would he be nervous? He's the man. In fact he was out right now looking at new guitars. When he left the store he saw Valentine, surrounded by his Cupid's. "Augh." Adam grunted, not wanting to interact with the Saint. "Adam!" Shit. "A little birdy told me you've got a Valentine's this year. It's been what? Centuries?" Valentine laughed. Adam rolled his eyes, then glared at him. "Yeah? So what? I figured it's a good way to get free pussy." Adam shrugged as a cocky grin formed on his face. The Cupid angels surrounding Saint Valentine cringed. "Oh, Adam. Come now! This is a holiday of love and romance. Not cheap pickups!" The man placed a hand on Adam shoulder which he immediately shrugged off. "So, are you going anywhere special? Have you bought the lucky angel flowers? Chocolates? A gift of adoration?" "Uh.. what?" "You haven't bought them anything have you?" The man laughed, putting his hand on Adams shoulder again pulling Adam closer. "Good luck getting fucked, playboy." He hissed with a wicked smirk. Valentine released Adams shoulder laughing. "Happy Valentine's days!" He said before flying away with his cupids. "Motherfucker!" Adam's flew off to the nearest store to get you some flowers.

When he arrived the flower section was bare. Maybe one half dead rose. "What the hell?" He flew all over the store looking for anything Valentines related. "No, no, no!" He stopped in one of the aisles before finding worker. "Hey! Where the fuck is the stuff?" "S-stuff, sir?" Adam gestures around the store. "You know! The fucking Valentines shit! Where is it?!" The poor retail worker fretted telling him there was nothing left. "V-valentines day is o-one of the most popular days of the year sir... There's nothing left.." "NOTHING LEFT?!?!" Adam yelled. His voice booming around the store causing shelfs to shake knocking almost everything off. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NOTHING LEFT?! I NEED SOMETHING FOR TONIGHT!!!" "I - I'm sorry, sir!" The poor angels voice shuddered. Adam groaned, balling his hands into fists. He was about to leave before he noticed a bottle of soda that hadn't fallen. He pushed it off the shelf for good measure before storming out of the store.

He wasn't going to spend all day looking for shit of this shitty holiday. He hated it. This was dumb! He's gift enough. Still, he takes his phone and texts Lute

"URGENT! flowers! Plz get 4 me thx dngrtits"

That'll do. He heads home to get ready for your date.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

The time comes and Adam is waiting outside of your apartment building, he's not walking up all those stairs again. He was feeling cool. Calm. Collected. Until he saw you. His hands started getting clammy, his heat racing. You look so pretty. You of course found the prefect in-between of cute and sexy for your outfit. "Heeey, you could of made an effort." He joked. You frowned. You thought you did well. He clears his throat. "Let's go." He wiped his hands on his robe before taking flight with you following after.

You both arrived at the restaurant. Neither of you stop on the way. It was awkward. He walked in first, he didn't hold the door open for you. Rude. Once inside you noticed the restaurant was jam packed. Adam also noticed this and froze. "Good thing you booked, right?" You said, playfully, hoping to break some tension. "Uh... Yeah... Wait here, surgartits." He walked over to the host. "I need a table for two." The host scoffed. "Yeah, sure. We've got one available tomorrow." Adam was fuming. This was all going wrong. This can't go wrong. "Do you fucking know who I am?!" He raised his voice. "I'm fucking ADAM! I'm the fucking man! And I want a damn table!" You walk over. "Adam?" "What, bitch!? Fuck! Can't you see I'm busy?! I'm getting us a table!" He yelled at you. No. Nope. You're too good to be yelled at. This was meant to be fun. Fuck this. You put your hands in the air. "Nope. I'm out." You turn on your heels and exit the restaurant. "Wait- no, y/n." He looks as you exit then back at the host. "I'll ruin your fucking life, cunt." He hissed before flying out of the restaurant.

He looks around and you were no where to be seen. "Fast fucker. AUGH!!!" He stomped his foot covering his face with his hands. If he wasn't wearing his mask he'd be pulling his hair.

You got yourself home. Fucking shit day. Dumb idea. You don't even know why he asked you. The whole thing was dumb. Everything about it was dumb. You collapse onto the couch, sulking. It doesn't take long before there's a knock at the door. Adam you suspect. You roll your eyes before peeling yourself off the couch. Opening the door you see Lute. Huh. "Uh.. hi?" "Adam requests your presents. Put on this blind fold." She hands you a blindfold. "What?" She didn't repeat herself. She never does. You groan, knowing she won't leave until you do it so whatever. You put the blindfold on and lute takes your wrist and flies off with you ragdolling.

Once your feet touch the ground she lets go of your wrist. Leaving you there blindfolded. "Uh.. you can take that off now." You do, to see a candle lit picnic layed out. It was adorable, there were fairy lights on the trees. Adam stood there, awkwardly, with a bunch of your favourite flowers. How did he know? Lute. "Uh. Surprise.." he handed you the flowers. "Sorry, about the restaurant. Fucking idiots double booked or something.. I don't know." He shrugged. You know it wasn't true. He didn't book, you know that. But you smiled. "Thank you, Adam. This is much nicer." He smiled and stretched. "Well, what can I say? I know what I'm doing."

You sat on the blanket, Adam did also and popped open a bottle of champagne. "I got the good stuff." You smile at the gesture although you always thought champagne tasted disgusting. He got all the good stuff, strawberries and chocolates. Cheese board. Cute little cakes. "This is all very well thought out. How did you get this so quickly?" You asked. He shrugged with a smirk. "I'm just that good, babe." Lute. This was more his style anyway. Outside, under the stars. It reminded him of the Garden.

"so, this was fun." He rubbed the palm of his hands on his knees. "I'd much rather not do this Valentine's bullshit though. Maybe next time we can just... Do it whenever?" "I'd like that. Although, this Valentine's day has turned out pretty perfect." You smile. "Well. I am perfect so." He smirks at you. You don't want to stroke his ego anymore than you already have. You roll your eyes before quickly giving him a peck on the lips. "you're alright, I suppose." You took his sweaty hand in yours and led down, he followed. You both watched the stars in silence. He'd gently squeeze your hand every now and then, you'd squeeze back.

"Happy valentine's, Y/N."

"Happy valentine's, Adam."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel adam smut

[writingoddess1125]

Buggy Catching you in a New Costume (HC)

Fluffy Fluff with a Touch of spice

Support me on Ko-Fi

Main Masterlist<<<

• You being the main costume designer and creator with the Buggy Pirates defiently had its perks and downsides.

• A downside being you having to create new peices on the fly. Like the one currently in your hands.

• It was giving you one hell of a time, so many ripples of fabric and pearls that seemed to want to battle you. However one part on the front leg was extra difficult- it needed a particular angle in order to see how it felt-

• You knew the performer couldn't come down for a last minute fitting anyway since it took too much time and the costumes never lasted long anyway.

• You two were about the same size anyway..

• So you slipped it on quickly, figuring a few moments couldn't hurt-

• You adjust some of the fabric accordingly- glancing at yourself a few times since... the costume did look damn good on you

• Unaware of the door being opened and a figure making their way inside.

• "Holy fuck-"

• You turning around quickly to see your partner Buggy standing there, fresh from drinking it seemed as he stared at you in total shock. A wave of worry hitting your chest at the way he was staring at you which you'd never seen before-

• "Oh my Gods-"

• ...

• "Wow! You're so damn gorgeous!" He gushed, his eyes wide with amazement as he stares over your form with awe and desire.

• "Wow!"

• You can't help but giggle at this words and shyly cover your face as you feel his gaze practically worship you.

• "Oh my Gods~" He awed, you Not noticing his steps coming towards you as he gave a wide crooked grin.

• "If thats for you, You can't wear that as a costume- It looks too damn good and I wouldn't be able to control myself during a show-" He chuckles out, floating his gloved hands around your waist to give you a small twirl. "I'd just turn the whole show into getting to gaze at you"

• You blush and bat his hand away playfully making one of the many pearls jingle and clank.

• "Well it's for one of the performers- I put it on since we are the same size and-"

• His lips crashed against your own suddenly, drawing you in as his form seemed to be all over you.

• "B-Bugs" You manage to whisper out as you feel him closing the space between the two of you

• "You're so beautiful~" He purred out, a crooked grin on his lips as his lips traveled to your exposed neck.

• "Bugs I gotta finish this-" You whine weakly, already feeling your will power giving up on finishing this damn costume.

• "So do I~"

• He winks- And just like that you've practically been swept out to Sea as Buggy wisk you off to the couch in your little studio space.

• You end up apologizing to the performer and saying you had to make her a completely new costume-

• Cause somehow the original ended up ripped and stained-

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy imagines #buggy fluff

[lordprettyflackotara]

sandman || fred weasley

smut 18+, minors dni

You lacked the capability to relax.

Being in Ravenclaw the expectations of the world were on your shoulders, not including the dementors that circled Hogwarts walls that made your skin crawl.

You had been up late studying with Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, who had already been dragged to bed by Ginny.

Clutching your quill you continued to scribble on the parchment paper, your temple beginning to throb.

“How did a Raven manage to fly into the lions den this late at night?” Fred Weasley’s recognizable voice asked you. You poked your head up from your Herbology textbook, Fred’s curious eyes watching you.

“I was studying with Hermione, she ditched me early. So much for an all nighter,” You explained, marking your page. You resisted the urge to fold the corners, placing your quill in between the pages about gillweed.

“Granger going to bed early to avoid studying? How out of character. Did you give her some of our drowsy draught potion?” Fred teased. You giggled, watching the lean quidditch player approach you. A white wife beater revealed how much muscle he truly had, his usual robes keeping them concealed.

He strode over to you confidently, taking a seat on the floor beside you. The fireplace cackled behind you, the warmth of the fire drawing Fred closer. “It’s almost three am, do you plan on sleeping?” Fred asked curiously. You knew as well as he did that he was notorious for sleeping through anything. Including the dreadful hail storm that once terrorized Hogwarts.

“I’m basically an insomniac at this point, I can’t relax for more than five seconds without racking my brain to solve an equation,” You admitted sheepishly. You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear as Fred leaned back on his hands. “Here turn your back towards me, I have some legit magic that’ll help you relax,” Fred told you. You hesitantly raised your eyebrow. The ginger tended to be a mischievous prankster, even if you weren’t a victim of his tricks.

“And you’re not going to prank me?”

“Pfft, of course not,”

“Promise Weasley?”

“I promise,”

You shifted around, your back now turned to Fred as you pulled your skirt down. You weren’t sure what to expect, acutely aware of how close you both were. Fred brushed your hair away from your back and over your shoulder, before beginning to massage your shoulders. “I thought you said this was magic,” You say timidly, his large hands massaging your skin with ease. Fred chuckled at your response, brushing some of his shaggy hair out of his face.

Merlin he needed a haircut.

“Yes this is the magic of relaxation,”

Your tense body began to slowly relax under Fred’s touch, the gingers eyes scanning your neck.

“Looks like you’re good at something other than pranks Weasley,” You say teasingly. Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m good at quidditch too ya know,” He countered. Fred could feel himself growing flustered as he continued massaging you, his eyes wondering down your figure.

“Your neck looks pretty tense, I can fix that for you if you want. I’ll just need you to turn around,” Fred offered, trying to appear cool and confident. You felt your face flush pink as you shifted around, facing him. You had never gotten a chance to interact with Fred one on one, George always connected to his hip.

The moment seemed oddly intimate, even though you had never considered relationships or sex worth your time. Yet the ginger sat in front of you with his large hands and soft lips, practically begging for you to kiss him. You had never considered yourself to be attracted to Fred Weasley, yet your body was yearning for more of his touch.

Fred couldn’t contain himself anymore, closing the gap between your lips and his. He tasted faintly of butterbeer, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips danced against his. Your arms found themselves around his neck, Fred’s hands slithering down to your waist. In a swift motion he had pulled you onto his lap, straddling him in front of the fire. Your fingers found his hair, small groans being swallowed by him as your hips bucked against his.

You could feel a wet patch growing in your panties, the soaked fabric rubbing right against Fred’s growing boner. His large hands slipped up your skirt, grabbing your ass. Your hips grinded against his, lust boiling in your stomach. “I wanna taste you,” Fred muttered against your lips, his words a confession. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you briefly pulled away, Fred’s lips almost chasing yours.

“W-what Weasley?”

Fred brought his thumb to your lower lip, dragging it downwards.

“I want your lips wrapped around my cock as I make you cum on my face,”

His filthy words sent a shiver of arousal down your spine, right down to your cunt.

You went to unzip your skirt before Fred grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Keep it on,” He whispered, his order teetering on the line of a plea. You swallowed as the ginger laid down in front of you, eagerly awaiting you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” You admitted, causing the ginger to chuckle. You stood up, pushing your panties down to your ankles before stepping out of them.

“I’d be a lucky man if I were to die between your thighs. C’mere,” Fred told you. You kneeled down over his head, your cunt inches away from his face.

“Fred what if I crush-”

Your concern was silenced by Fred’s hands pushing you down onto his face. You whimpered as his warm tongue licked a stripe up your cunt before assaulting your clit. You felt your thighs tighten around his head as his hands kept you in place, your filthy noises becoming louder by the minute.

“Fuck, right fucking there,” You moaned, grinding your hips onto his mouth. His lips began to suck at your clit, causing your thighs to shake. Your eyes centered on Fred’s boner, his cock throbbing inside of his pajama pants. You leaned forward, hungrily shoving them down. The lack of boxers caused you to giggle as his cock landed on his stomach.

“No underwear huh? Naughty boy,” You teased. A sharp smack landed on your bare ass, causing you to winch in pain for a brief moment before Fred’s tongue brought you back to ecstasy.

The ginger was longer than you expected him to be. You took his shaft into your hands, bringing it into your mouth. A soft groan was muffled by your folds, encouraging you to sink your head further down onto his cock. You took as much of him as you could in your mouth, using your hand to jerk the rest of his cock.

Fred admired your determination and for a brief moment he considered switching positions, the thought of you on your knees for him mouth watering. Yet, there was something about having your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as he was buried into your pussy that pleased him more.

You tasted divine, much sweeter than any other girl he had fooled around with. He licked up your cunt, pushing his tongue inside of your hole. You were involuntarily animalistic, your hips having a mind of their own as Fred laid there in heaven.

Fred’s hips were beginning to do the same, bucking upwards. His cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag as saliva trailed down your chin. Fred momentarily pulled away from your dripping cunt, smirking as your juices coated his lips and chin. You took him out of your mouth, gasping for air.

“You sound so pretty when you gag on my cock. Do it again and i’ll make you cum,” Fred ordered. You tried to grind down onto Fred’s face but his strong hands kept you in place. You could feel his warm breath a mere inch away from your cunt, taunting you.

The idea of cumming on Fred Weasley’s face had never been more appealing to you.

Desperately you brought his cock back to your lips, shoving it down your throat. You forced yourself to keep his shaft in place as you gagged around him. Saliva was trailing down your chin and neck, beginning to dampen your blouse.

“Such a good listener aren’t we? What a good girl,” Fred praised, kitten licking your folds. You pulled back, inhaling deep breaths of air.

“Now be a good girl and ride my face until you make yourself cum,”

You leaned back hesitantly, gripping his chest for support as he placed his mouth back onto your cunt. It was as if he somehow had memorized your body, his tongue licking every right place. Your moans were sinful enough to wake up the entire Gryffindor house and it was a miracle no one had bothered to go into the common room.

“Freddie, I, fuck-” You groaned, a familiar knot in your stomach forming. His lips had wrapped themselves around your clit, sucking harshly at the sensitive bud as your thighs trembled around his head. His large hands kept you on his face, refusing to let you move away.

You could feel your cunt clench around nothing as your thighs began to shake, squeezing Fred’s head unintentionally. Unholy moans that were mantras of his name echoed off of the common room walls as you came. Euphoria had washed over you, your nails digging into Fred’s chest.

Fred licked and sucked at your clit until you slowly lifted off of him, your knees almost buckling as you shifted away from his face. You weakly sat beside him, your after orgasm glow apparent to the ginger in front of you. “Look at you, you’re so cute,” Fred teased, using his thumb to wipe away the remaining spit on your chin.

In a swift motion you brought your lips back to his, Fred rising to his knees. You could taste your juices on his lips as you roughly meshed your lips against his. Fred couldn’t take it anymore, pulling away to meet your gaze. He shrugged his wife beater over his head, discarding it without a second thought.

“Bend over for me, yeah?”

You turned around, bending over in front of him without a second thought. You could feel him lubricate the tip of his cock by running it up and down your folds. The sensation of it hitting your abused clit made you shiver. “You have no idea how long i’ve thought about doing this,” Fred confessed. A cool breeze hit your bare skin as Fred lifted up your skirt, exposing your ass in full to him. As he pushed inside of you his fingers gripped your waist forcefully, as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

“So full- shit,” You groaned, your eyes screwing shut as he bottomed out.

“You’re practically fucking milking my cock, merlin, you slut,” Fred groaned. Your cunt only clenched around him tighter at the sound of his degrading words, causing him to smirk.

He began picking up the pace, fucking into you slowly. Your noises only grew louder as his hips began to snap into yours faster. Fred’s thrust were merciless, his body chasing an ecstasy only you could provide.

Strings of curses mixed in with your name left Fred’s lips as he watched his cock go in and out of you. He was so deep inside of you that you almost thought you were seeing stars, your body drunk off of the feeling of his cock.

“You feel so good Freddie, so fucking- good,” You slurred, your words of encouragement only making Fred pound into you faster. His cock was abusing your g spot, causing your legs to shake as your knees dug into the carpet below you. You could feel the rug digging into your skin, making it raw which each thrust.

“I wanna fuck you everyday, make you my personal Raven,” Fred grunted. He could feel you getting closer to your final high, his hand slithering down to your swollen clit. You began to squirm as his fingers circled around your sensitive bud, unable to handle the fast circles he was drawing. “Oh- i’m gonna cum, I can’t, fuck!” You cried, your walls spasming as Fred ripped you into a state of euphoria.

Fred fucked you through your orgasm mercilessly, ravishing in the sight of you in a state of pure bliss. He was so focused on you that by the time he tried to pull out his cock it was too late, his cum painting the inner walls of your cunt. Your body was spent, slumping over onto the floor as Fred pulled out of you.

Two orgasms was all it took to get you to finally go to sleep. Fred smirked to himself as he shoved his pajama pants back on, your small sleeping body curled up into a ball in front of the fire. He grabbed your things, shoving them into a bag he knew he’d deliver to you in the afternoon when you ran into each other in defense against the dark arts.

He eyed your panties on the floor, contemplating putting them back on you. Instead a more mischievous thought came to mind, which caused him to decide to shove them in his pocket instead. He picked up your body up bridal style, carrying you upstairs to the girls dorm. Fred knocked on the door, hoping whichever gryffindor girl opened it wouldn’t be a first year.

A sleepy Hermione Granger opened the door, rubbing her eyes as her vision settled. “Y/n is still here?” She asked. Her mind was already scrambling itself on what to do, the responsibility of being a prefect weighing on her shoulders. “Yeah she finally just went to sleep, I don’t think I can deliver her to Ravenclaw tower at this hour,” Fred shrugged. Hermione stared at Fred, shirtless and hair messy. He looked like a wreck, and you didn’t look much better.

Questions were on the tip of her tongue, ones she decided could wait until the morning. Hermione knew there were a few extra beds that were designated for first years, but in emergencies they would have to do. “The spare beds are to the right, be very quiet and don’t pull anything stupid,” Hermione said sternly. Fred carried you inside of the room, ignoring the dozens upon dozens of sleeping gryffindor girls. Hermione trailed close behind him, ensuring he wasn’t up to any funny business.

“How’d you get her to go to sleep anyways? Shes practically an insomniac,”

Fred shrugged, laying you down and bringing the red colored comforter up to your shoulders.

“I’m not sure myself, guess you can call me the sandman,”

#harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x oc #weasley twins #george weasley #harry potter smut #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #wealsey twin smut

[twisted-tales-of-all]

First and Last Dance

Summary: After dying, you refuse to follow your reaper into the afterlife before experiencing what sex feels like. Pairing: Park Seonghwa x afab!Reader Genre: Smut, Horror, One-Shot Tropes: virgin!reader, grim reaper!AU, first and last time Word Count: 2.4K Contains: mild corruption kink, mentions of alcohol and drugs, discussion of dying in a fire, waking up disoriented, memory loss, cursing, pet names (sweetheart, love, baby girl, sir), unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), marking, praise, multiple orgasms, fingering (f. receiving)

"Ugh," you groan as you wake up, gripping your head tight thanks to your hangover. "Fuck, did I really do that much last night?"

Looking around with squinting eyes, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. The dark grey walls and black-out curtains certainly help your headache, but you can't remember how you got here or where here even is.

The creak of the door draws your attention. In walks a beautiful man with hair like raven feathers and an outfit matching the dark room. Quickly, your brain runs through an empty shelf of memories, trying to figure out whether you did something with this gorgeous man and forgot. Patting your body, you find all your clothes on your body, but not quite intact. Noticing holes in the fabric, you push down the covers to figure out the damage. Strangely, you find scorch marks all over your shirt - a burned hem cutting its original length, small holes with blackened edges from sparks flying onto the flammable fabric, even a full sleeve missing.

Before you can ask about the night prior, the stranger speaks, "You probably don't remember. That tends to happen." He pulls a chair closer to the bed, sitting back and relaxing. As if running on a script, he rallies off information, "Last night, you were at a party. An accident happened, where someone dropped a lit cigarette into some spilled alcohol. Not very many people survived, as the alcohol fire spread quickly and most of the party goers were impaired by the various drugs and alcoholic drinks."

A fire? You remember everyone's screams shifting from excited to terrified, but can't remember the flames themselves. With that big of a disaster, you wouldn't have expected to forget, even under the influence.

"At least I made it out safe."

"You didn't, Y/N." The man reveals with a look of boredom on his face, "That's why I'm here. My name is Seonghwa, and I'm a reaper. It is my job to collect the newly deceased and lead you into the afterlife."

"No."

Finally showing emotion in his reaction, Seonghwa doesn't know what to say, frozen in shock. Nobody has outright denied him like this. They've fought, cried, cursed him, and even struck him, but nobody has had your composure to simply say no.

"I can't die yet. I haven't done so many things. I've barely even hugged people I found attractive. What about my first kiss, my first time? Or traveling with someone I love? I can't die when I haven't done any of that. Send me back."

There it is. A line Seonghwa's heard time and time again. But this time, it's framed differently. No first kiss? Seonghwa empathizes with you, as a reaper who often wonders of the joys of living. Reapers, of course, weren't granted that chance; forged by the gods of death with the sole purpose of easing their jobs, reapers often face a tedious, repetitive life. Most were okay with it, as that is all they ever knew, but everyone hears stories of those driven crazy after too many interactions with humans.

"I cannot send you back. You're already dead, and that's out of my powers. I simply lead you to the proper afterlife."

Your posture drops as he explains this. All you ever wanted was a sweet love story in your life, and now it won't happen. Despite this, your urge to at least try something still rages within you. So much so that you don't even try to stop yourself from asking Seonghwa a desperate question.

"Could you show me what love is like? Or at least let me feel what it's like to kiss and touch someone?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected request, Seonghwa forgets his words for a moment, his mouth hanging open slightly. You look at him, anticipating his answer and hoping he'll give in.

"You want to kiss me? To touch me?"

"Why not? You have a pretty face, a nice voice, and probably a body sculpted by gods. Why wouldn't I? You seem nice, too."

Something in the naivety of your words pulls at him. Urges he didn't know he held surface as you pout at him, and he can't stop himself from wanting to show you everything he can before leading you to your final resting place. Here, in the confines of these smoke-colored walls where time stands still and everything lies in limbo, Seonghwa breaks his personal protocol to indulge in something dark bubbling inside him. Without saying another word, he pushes himself off the chair and kisses you. He moves so fast that you can't catch your breath before his lips are mingling roughly with yours. Your hands find their way to his chest while his snake behind you, one on your upper back and the other resting on your hip.

He brings you closer, tightening the gap. As you both pant out in breaks from the sloppy kiss, your body heats up. Although you're certain you can't be kissing very well based on how much more work he's doing, he doesn't seem to pay it any mind. His luscious lips overtake yours with ease, you feel every movement amplified. The moment his cold hands slide under the remaining fabric covering you, it feels so enticing against your hot body, cooling your back down with a simple touch. Slowly, you find him guiding you to lie on the bed. He hovers above you, looking down on you as he appreciates the look on your face - a look begging for more but not knowing what that might entail; a mix of fear and longing.

Your innocence spurs him on more than he thought possible; even just seeing you looking at him and trying to steady your breathing drives him insane. His usually loose pants much more snug thanks to his erection, Seonghwa refuses to hold himself back. With a quick swipe of his hand, your shirt rips apart, revealing your bare stomach and beautifully adorned chest. With a deep growl and another swipe, your pants fall to the sides of your legs, leaving you lying under him in your matching bra and panty set.

"What a wonderful color on you." His hand lingers on your waist as he admires how well the color of your underwear suits your skin tone, "I almost don't want to rip it off of you. Almost."

Leaning in, Seonghwa leaves kisses all over your uncovered body, marking you in places he knows will feel best for you - under your ear, along your collarbone, on both hips, right above the covered portion of your chest. Although his kisses are soft, his marks turn aggressive as he sucks hard and even bites down on some spots.

Along with the rough marking, his hands make quick work of the little remaining fabric on your body. When his lips reach fabric, he quickly works to remove it. Unlike before, he takes care not to rip apart your undergarments, bringing a temporary sense of kindness to his actions. Unbeknownst to you, he's careful with them so he can hold onto them after you leave him - a souvenir of sorts. That kindness doesn't last long, not when your naked body is on full display for him. Looking down at you, he can feel himself salivate at your inexperience as it leaves you slightly covering yourself in nervousness. His eyes darken before he moves further down the bed, spreading your legs to place his face snuggly between them.

"Y-You don't have to-"

"Sweetheart," he growls as he peeks up at you, "What fun would it be if I didn't show you everything?"

Kissing and nibbling the skin on your inner thigh, his silky black hair prickles against your other leg. The closeness of the sensations to your throbbing core makes you squirm involuntarily. Feeling him chuckle against your thigh, your hands fly to your face as it heats up from the embarrassment. After giving both thighs plenty of attention, he centers himself, proud to see you soaking already. Running a finger through your folds, he uses your arousal to coat his fingers before sliding them inside you, one at a time. At the first insertion, your body tenses in response to the newfound sensation. You expected that you'd feel similar to when you do it, but the angle, the size, the speed - everything feels so different. He moves the finger in and out before adding his second one, stretching your tense body out some more.

He kisses your thigh as his fingers curl inside of you, "Relax, sweetheart. Believe me, it'll feel so much better when you untense yourself. Breathe. Enjoy it."

At his coaxing, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Letting yourself relax, you notice the knots in your body fading, replaced with the intense warmth of your core and the slow, intoxicating movement of his fingers inside you. Noticing this, Seonghwa leans in, swirling his tongue around your folds and quickly finding your clit. He's careful and calculated in his movements here, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet. But he knows exactly how to work you up, and you feel something build inside you. You recognize this feeling and let your hips grind against him as you chase after the high you desire. He flattens his tongue against your clit, the roughness and pressure sending you over the edge. He continues curling his fingers perfectly inside you as you ride through your orgasm, the feeling rippling through you.

Slowly removing his fingers from you, you wince at the emptiness, but he caresses your cheek and shushes you as he lifts himself again. Dragging his shirt over his head, you gawk at his torso. He's slim but well-built. Not quite six-pack well, but the soft lines running down his abs look better without the added dimension. You lift your hand to drag your fingertips over his body, but he's too busy tearing his pants down to give you a chance. Your gaze drops as he moves, drawn to his cock standing tall and proud. You were right - he's definitely sculpted by gods, and whoever made him needed to be worshipped even more. How could a dick be good-looking? Everything you'd seen before was not for looking, but his looked delicious, curving upward slightly and built to spread someone open in the best ways.

While you're busy gawking at him, he climbs above you again. Grabbing your jaw roughly and forcing your gaze back to his face, he smirks.

"My face is up here, love. What could possibly be better to look at than this face?"

Crashing his lips against yours again, he doesn't need to hear an answer. Holding himself up with one arm, he moves a hand between his legs. Grabbing himself, he coats his length in your fluids by rubbing himself between your folds. The small touches leave you begging for more as he pulls his lips off of yours.

"Please... I need it."

"Oh? You need it? What a gorgeous sentence to fall from your breathless lips. Well, let me oblige."

Lining his tip up with your entrance, he slowly pushes in, stretching you out even with such a small amount. Growling with a clenched jaw, he manages to keep his pace despite wanting to bury himself entirely inside you. After a painfully long wait, he bottoms out inside of you. His length brings tears to your eyes, but they don't overflow. The burning stretch shifts away after a while, but your breath remains caught in your throat.

Pecking your lips and rubbing your cheek with his knuckles, he praises you, "You're doing so well. You can take all of me. Good job, baby girl. Let me know when you're ready."

His kind words calm you down, allowing your breathing to return to you. when the burn fades completely and your body adjusts to his size, you wiggle a bit, urging movement.

"Use your words, sweetheart. Are you ready?"

"Yessir. Please move."

Once again, your innocence feeds his urge to ruin you entirely. With your sweet voice and naivety of what it'll feel like when he moves, he throws out his plan to ease you into everything. Pulling back slowly, he slams into you, his hips hitting your thighs on impact. He keeps going at this pace, roughly slamming into you again and again. Your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth falls open, noises messily leaving your lips as your brain muddles. His hands grip your thighs, fingernails digging into your flesh as he uses his grip to pull you into him. Filling the room with the sounds of sex, Seonghwa's head falls back for a moment as he enjoys the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

"Seonghwa," his name falls softly from your lips, "I'm gonna-"

Unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm crashes upon you, Seonghwa groans at the sensation of you finishing around him. He picks up his pace, sloppily pounding into you as he chases his own high. Leaning forward into you, his head falls into the crook of your neck, teeth gripping onto your skin as he finishes inside you. Feeling the warm liquid shooting into you, you feel strangely complete, as if all you needed to feel alive again was a grim reaper's cum.

As Seonghwa lies on top of you, your collective pants now the only sounds in the small room, you thank him for obliging in your silly request. The embarrassment of begging a total stranger to take your virginity finally hits you, so you add a small apology at the end.

Brushing your hair with his fingertips, he replies, "Don't apologize. Thank you for letting me be your experience, it awakened and quelled a desire I didn't realize I had."

"'Your experience,' that's funny. Since it's my first and last, right? You'll be all I know." You poke fun at the situation in front of you, trying to relieve the nerves slowly gathering about the afterlife.

"Good." He growls out deeply. "Keep it that way. It makes me so happy knowing that you really are all mine."

Tags: @dimpledsatan-recs @mo0nbeams

#cultofdionysusnet #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut

[2knightt]

↳my rhymes, my pen, my pad.₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, miles falls head over heels inlove!。✦

||✰ — 1610!miles morales x gn!reader.

you weren’t new to this school, you’ve been going for so long now. it got boring, nothing interesting ever happens there.

same preppy people walk in and out, always on time, always talking about the same stuff.

your teacher brought out a projector and put on some video.

you weren’t the slightest bit interested. you were drawing on the sides of your work sheet, drawing nonsense.

you heard the classroom door swing open and some kid, with papers and books flying all over the places stumbled in.

“you’re late, morales.”

morales, that’s new. you think to yourself as he stands in front of the projector, looking scared.

you stare at him longer, trying to see if you recognize him, but you don’t.

miles was scanning the classroom while trying to figure out what to say next, when his eyes met yours.

miles was—stunned to say the least.

you were gorgeous, even if you looked a little bit intimidating.

your hair framed your face just right, your lips looked soft, everything about you was just, breathtaking.

miles realized all eyes were on him and started to open his mouth without thinking.

“Einstein said time was relevant. maybe i’m not late, maybe you’re just early.”

he said, with a shrug and an awkward smile.

you smiled, you have to admit it.

what a dork, you thought to yourself as you heard a chuckle from the other side of the room.

you could tell he was embarrassed, he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

to which, he did.

miles looked for any sort of reaction in you, but all he got was a smile.

that smile was all he could think about as he sat next to this blond haired girl.

was it a good smile? or was it a bad smile?

were you making fun of him? did you think he was funny?

you had filled his thoughts, without even knowing.

before miles knew it, he was walking to his uncles house.

he had pulled out his phone, took a picture of his uncle, and sent it to him.

aaron laughed, opening the window as miles pushed his face against it.

his uncle welcomed him in, seating miles next to him on the couch.

“whatchu want? is it romantic troubles?”

“h-how’d you know?! what’re you, a wizard?”

aaron chuckled at his nephew, and started to push him for more questions.

“well, what’re they like? do you know ‘em? what’s their name?”

miles just stared at his uncle.

he didn’t know.

he didn’t know your name, how you act, or anything.

he only knows your smile, and that alone was enough to make him like you.

god that’s so embarrassing.

“i uh, dunno.”

“whatchu mean you don’t know?”

aaron asks, laughing immediately after.

he thought it was so funny that miles didn’t know shit about you!

“well—it was a uh, love at first sight typa thing. you get it, right? right?!”

miles started to play with his fingers, he didn’t know why he was so nervous to talk about you.

“how do i start a conversation with them?”

aaron looks down and shakes his head, like miles just asked the stupidest question ever.

“you just gotta do the ol’ shoulder touch, man.”

“what’s that?”

miles asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

his uncle chuckles, looking down before gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

he looks up and with the most smug voice miles has ever heard says,

“hey.”

miles started to laugh, like he wasn’t allowed to laugh anywhere else.

“so like, hey.”

he said, mocking his uncle.

the two of them started laughing like there was no tomorrow.

but unfortunately for miles, there was.

he saw you in the halls, so he took the opportunity to run up to you.

“h-hey, wait!”

you heard the shouting come from behind you.

you looked behind you and you couldn’t recognize the guy off the bat but nonetheless, you listened.

he stopped right in front of you, crouching down with his hands on his knees like he had just run a marathon.

he finally stood up after what seemed like hours.

he looked at you dead in your eyes, and you have to be honest, you kinda got uncomfortable with his stare.

he looked nervous just staring at you. jeez, you weren’t that scary, were you?

he slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, and looked like he was trying to, i don’t know, look cool?

“hey.”

you giggled at his poor attempt to start a conversation with you.

you didn’t mean to, it was just—hard not to!

“hey. do i, know you or something?”

miles started to panic, he didn’t think it’d go this far!

“i-uh-yeah! we have science together! i’m miles morales.”

“oh! lovely to finally meet you morales. i’m y/n.”

you said, sticking your hand out for him to shake.

he looked at it for a second and took your hand.

y/n, what a cute name. miles thought to himself as the bell rung.

“ugh, it’s so loud for no reason.”

you complained, letting go of his hand.

“yeah, i know right.”

“well—i’ll see you ‘round, miles.”

you said, walking away while waving.

miles just nodded and waved back. he could tell he looked like a loser, he could feel his muscles all tense as he waved back.

when you were out of sight, he finally relaxed.

he finally talked to you, and he got your name!

miles has got to tell uncle aaron about this later!

thank u guys for 200 followers i might cry

#2knightt #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #1610!miles x reader #into the spider verse x reader #across the spider verse x reader