#this is like 5% as bad as that so i know i need to just chill

[mareestoermers]

i think we are all forgetting something when we talk about how toxic patrick, tashi, and art are — or when we decide one is “worse” than the other. they all have moments of seeing right through it, seeing each other’s toxic behavior for what it is, and STILL want and need each other in this possessive, envious, visceral way.

1. in the way beginning, tashi is clearly flirting more with art than patrick, and patrick is visibly annoyed. art sees right through it and even challenges him like “okay, let’s leave”, and has this little smirk on his face because he knows patrick won’t give up on tashi.

2. tashi immediately sees the visible tension and love between art and patrick, and literally orchestrates their first kiss. she sees right through their repression, and even calls herself a “home-wrecker” but still entangles herself with them, especially patrick because he’s clearly the better tennis player at that point and that is tash’s ONLY true love. tennis. that’s what she desires most in him, and patrick knows that. he even calls her out on it in the dorm room scene. but they have this mirroring fire in each other that neither of them can give up, not until patrick breaks the balance and bails — tashi’s injury is literally a metaphor for the balance shattering between all three of them when patrick leaves her.

3. before this, patrick sees right through art trying to break them up, and even admires that quality — maybe even feels smug and flattered because art is jealous and feels left out from both tashi and patrick. patrick has known this all along, we saw it in the “tick-serve” scene, where he even swears to tashi he won’t tell anyone but he still tells art, who is desperate to feel a part of them and patrick wants that, too — even keeps that close intimacy with art that we see in the churro scene (swoon swoon swoon).

4. haven’t you noticed that arts desire to be great is only ever tied up in patrick and tashi? how he needs to beat patrick to win tashis affection, how he needs to win in tennis so that tashi can live through him, how he lives up to his potential in the ending only because tashi and patrick push him to it, in their little fucked up ways? he knows this — he even admits that he’s playing for tashi, that he knows she’s living through him. he even admits he’s playing a fucked up little game with patrick when they’re in the sauna. yet he still does it. again, he knows what’s happening, sees right through them — still does it, still loves them.

5. when tashi calls patrick to come pick her up he knows it’s not just to tell him to throw the match — and despite how she battles him about it, they still have sex in the car, because he already knows. he’s so fully aware of her and her game and he’s so willing to be caught up in it, the same as art.

just some examples of how they all have moments of clarity and agency and yet they still choose to be entangled in one another because they’re all fucked up in their own, individual ways, and they’re all living through each other for their own specific needs. arts is to be seen as worthy, as great, but only through their gaze. tashis is to have the career that was stolen from her. patricks is truly to be in love and in lust with both of them, because we even see that from the beginning that tashis love alone will never satiate him; it has to be arts love, too. that scene in the sauna when he thinks he’s lost it from art is the most sad and fucked up we ever even see patrick. on top of tashi asking him to throw the game — he’s so defensive of arts feelings.

in short this is an actual love triangle (and i would go as far as to see it as a polyship). you can’t erase one without the whole thing unraveling, and you can’t say one character was the “worst” without picking apart the motivations and pointing to the fact that their bad behavior was never a secret or left unchecked.

even at the end, patrick signals to art that he slept with tashi — art knows and they still have that intimate completion at the end, all three of them. art living up to his potential and embracing patrick fully (id argue this could even be a metaphor for embracing his bisexuality), patrick having both tashi and arts affection again, and tashi playing a phenomenal tennis match through her little white boys — in such a visceral, emotional way that she cries out like she did in the beginning and the last frame is her smiling.

in a fucked up way, they all get what they wanted out of each other.

#challengers #challengers spoilers #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #zendaya #mike faist #josh o'connor #luca guadagnino #text post

[ballerinicita]

(minors, ageless blogs don’t interact!)

໒꒰ྀི o̴̶̷̤ ̯o̴̶̷̤ ꒱ྀི১ thinkin’ about rockstar!toji, who plays the bass in a band that you’re obsessed with. not just because of the music they play — but because of the bassist, toji.

you watch him from the crowd with those huge eyes of yours as he strums away on the stage; watching the way his fingers curl against the strings of his instrument. it just gets you wondering how nice it might feel if those fingers were somewhere else…

toji only cares about money, fame and women. if you’re none of those — then your chances with him are pretty much worthless. you know this. but that doesn’t stop you from walking backstage once he’s done performing.

a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be backstage of a rock band. toji’s ears perk up when he hears you calling for him, and turns around to look down at you with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “whatcha need, kid? and what’re you doin’ here?” he grunted, lighting up his cigarette as he eyes you up and down.

it would surprise him — or anyone, for that matter — that you’re not as innocent as you may seem. what goes on in your head when you see toji is just filthy. and now that you’re face-to-face with him, your heart feels like it might explode.

it took only about… 5 minutes or so before you’re dragged out by his large hands and taken into the backseat of his car. anyone else would die to be in your place right now.

toji can’t resist either, not when you bat your lashes at him so innocently, the way your frilly skirt barely covered your plump ass; knowing, you wore it on purpose in case this ever happened.

“god… yer such a slut, huh? wanted me to fuck you till you’re seein’ stars?” he groaned against your lips, one hand pinned your wrists above your head as you lay down on the seats. “mm!” you squealed as you felt his hand coming down to slap your ass and squeeze it. “ha- fuck, toji.. i wan’ it so bad.” you whined, looking up at him with a soft pout.

never in a million years would toji think he’d be pounding some needy fan’s cunt in the backseat of his car. but the way you looked at him.. how could he not?

his dick stretches you out so good, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust as he brings one hand down to play with your sensitive bud. his fingers were just as good as you imagined, almost as good as his cock that was buried deep in your weeping pussy.

#toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #jjk toji #dilf toji #toji x y/n #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #filthy thoughts #shoujo

[drdemonprince]

Can you offer any (academic) writing advice for Autistics and ADHDers? You clearly write a lot and write very well and very clearly, so some insight into your process would be great. Personally, I tend to struggle with over explaining or over citing (cause I am always getting misunderstood) and that I get very fixated on not misrepresenting what my sources are saying to avoid feeling like I'm lying. All this is time consuming and makes it hard to say what I really want to say. Thanks!

Hi there! I've written an essay about a lot of this, here is the free link to read it on Medium:

Much of my writing process is inspired by the book How to Write a Lot by Paul Silvia, and it is specifically tailored to academics. The advice applies to people who write popular nonfiction or fiction just as easily, however. And he does have advice relevant to the self-editing and self-doubt you describe feeling.

The full piece gets into this more, but here are some of the stand-out tips:

Schedule a regular time to write every week and show up no matter whether you are feeling it or not.

Throw out all your magical thinking about what you "need" to be able to write. You don't need the perfect workspace, divine inspiration, the right pen, the right playlist. You just need to show up to write regularly, and do it

Editing, outlining, working with research notes, and drafting all count as "writing." Don't expect your initial drafts to be perfect or to equate writing only with getting new words on the page.

Try writing in public spaces to help get yourself in the mindset of explaining a concept to someone with a different frame of reference and type of expertise than you. Writing in a cafe or a public library can force you think and write in a more accessible way. (alternatively, you can pretend you are explaining the concept to a specific person in your life who you respect but who doesnt have all the same reference points as you -- sometimes this is called the "Grandma Test". Explain something like you are talking to your grandma.)

In addition to all this, I would add that you should read a lot of writing, both good and bad, especially work that isn't dry and academic. If all you read is journal articles, you'll write a journal article -- and most of those are hell to read, even for academics. read fiction. read bad wattsapp shipping. read substacks. read newspapers. read indulgent personal nonfiction in the cut or whatever. read reddit posts. notice what works and what doesn't. develop an ear.

and then write a lot! it took me 15 years to get good enough for anything i wrote to get noticed. you can expect to take many years to get comfortable developing your own voice, too. i dont know how far along you are, but even when you've made tremendous progress you'll only notice your flaws and feel the most turgid brain foggy moments. that doesn't mean you're failing.

also, to some extent you can embrace your citation-dense, precise manner of self-expression. we are living in a moment of maximalism and indulgent, long creative works. it's the decade of the 5 hour youtube essay and the 2 hour album. my 5,000 word essays do better than my 2,000 word ones. you should strip down unnecessary tangents and trust yourself and your reader a little more probably, but ive found that the more blatantly autistic and indulgent my writing gets the more the right people like it. a writer's flaws and their distinctive voice are kinda hard to separate. you're not for everyone!

good luck!

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hii! Hope you’re having a great day :D

I was thinking about Law with a tall male reader who looks very intimidating. everyone thinks that he is the top in the relationship but Law is the one who actually tops/? Like his s/o looks like a top but is actually a pillow princess. ;)

You can take this as a request or not if you want :3

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Tall male reader

Headcanons

Guten Abend everyone, still getting dragged over the studying coals, but fuck it we ball.

No outright smut in this one, mainly just focusing on their relationship since im exhausted, but I hope its still enjoyable.

In the One Piece universe, being tall can mean a lot of things. Being taller than Law just means you have to be somewhere over 6 ft 5, or taller, if that’s what you prefer. Being intimidating isn’t too hard either, especially if you are a fellow pirate.

Seeing you two together can be a little off-putting to the people around you, at least the ones that aren’t part of your crew, who know you two on a more personal level.

No one would dare to make assumptions in the beginning of a meeting, since Law already has quite the reputation, and either your scary aura or your own dangerous reputation makes people shut up. They might have ideas to themselves, but they wouldn’t verbalize it.

It probably comes up during an afterparty of some kind, after you guys have defeated the baddie of the week and you’re all kicking back. Since Law isn’t a big fan of drinking, you would end up being the one getting tipsy out of the two of you.

At some point during the night, Kidd or others who are more comfortable with you two, would start making jabs or ask questions, as one does when you get wasted. It becomes clear pretty damn quick though, that everyone thinks that Law is the one who bottoms.

Law isn’t the type to out your guy’s bedroom life, but I could still imagine him asking, in a bit of a tense tone, why they think that. That’s when you guys get the explanation from your allies and friends. But it all boils down to you being taller, bigger, scarier and with a stronger presence. So, it just made sense to them.

It gets a bit of a laugh from you, and you can tell from the tension in Laws jaw that it gets on his nerves, maybe even hurting his ego a little. But you also know your lover wouldn’t verbalize those thoughts, not wanting to admit something like an assumption of his bedroom role would hit him in any way.

When you guys get back to the polar tang, one would assume Law would drag you off to the bedroom to show you and him that your friends and allies’ assumptions were wrong. But Law is also a doctor, so he wouldn’t want to do such a thing when you’re drunk.

Instead, he gets some water in you, gets you something to eat, helps you get washed down if that’s what you need, and then the two of you conk out in bed, Law the big spoon even if you are taller. Hes like your tattooed backpack, if the height difference is big enough.

Law doesn’t end up making a move on you in the morning either if you suffer from hangovers, instead your lover would make sure you were alright, and get you something for the hangover if its bad enough. His ego may have been wounded a little, but he’s a respectful guy, especially to you as his lover.

That evening, or the day after though, you’re all his, not that you mind though. Seeing as all your crewmates are most likely still out partying or suffering from hangovers, you two have the polar tang all to yourself.

As you enjoy laying back and receiving pleasure without doing much in return, Law gets to do most of the work. He doesn’t need the same in return, as giving you pleasure is satisfying for him. Being in charge would feel quite nice for him, as it allows him to have an eye on the entire situation and what’s going on.

Law would definitely also use his devil fruit power when you guys are together, since it would make it easier for the both of you, and with his devil fruit he’s able to reach parts of you no one else can.

In the end, people you meet, and probably most of your friends and allies, think you are the top still, but Law wouldn’t mind too much after you show him that you don’t think lesser of him or let other people’s assumptions bother you or your relationship.

#male reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #one piece #trafalgar law imagine #trafalgar law headcanon #trafalgar law x male reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece imagine #one piece headcanon #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar d water law imagine #trafalgar d water law headcanon #trafalgar d water law x male reader #trafalgar d water law x reader

[sparklings-bf]

5 years !!!

me and baldi's anniversary <33<3

(beware. long personal gush under cut)

pouring my heart out into this one. i am Sorry

today marks 5 years since the day i started shipping with baldi for the first time<3

i'm surprised that after so long I'm still very in love with him but I could not be happier about it. to think that it all started out as a silly thing among my friends where i was joking about him being my husband to considering him an actual serious f/o is so weird to think about. i remember being like 13 and not understanding Why i felt like this about a fictional character, i didn't even know self shipping was a thing

and it took. Years. for me to finally make sense of it all. i think a few months after i was in love with him was when i found the selfship community here on tumblr and then i considered baldi to be my first f/o ever, though i was never 100% open about self shipping until years later.

even today baldi is one of the characters that changed my life the most, i can't even explain how much he's helped me become better. he's gotten me through all the good, the bad, the times other people let me down. he was There for me. and i am so grateful. because of him i feel like i can just be myself and don't need to put on an act for other people, i don't need to hide how i feel.

i can definitely say that baldi will always be a part of me. even if my feelings fade, or i stop fixating on him, or anything like that happens. i've had many good memories when growing up with him that i can never forget about. like honestly he is a part of Me as a person at this point. he's inspired me to become better. and despite him being fictional he's really improved my life so much.

i love you so so so much baldi <33<3 and i mean it when i say forever, i hope we'll be with eachother for more years to come. thank you for everything!! <3

#🥀 valentino art #📏 baldi<3 #this is crazy personal i hope no one judges me because I'll combust 🙏 #self ship #self ship art #f/o community #romantic f/o #ASLO THE ART IS NOT THAT GREAT SORRY I'M HAVING A HARD TIME DRAWINH

[luvangelbreak]

Deprived | Twenty-four

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries, smut, oral (male!receiving) word count: 6.1k a/n: shits getting HEATED Y'ALL HAHAAA

pov: layla

After watching Matt clear out the bottom drawer in his dresser and neatly fold every item before placing them in the drawer, we sat on his bed while we waited for Nick and Chris to get home. I fiddled with the rings on his fingers as I laid between his legs, his stomach against my back while his chin sat on my head. He was watching YouTube on his TV and I didn't pay attention to what it was as I spun the rings on his fingers, focusing on anything but the pain in my back and the weight on my chest of having to go back home.

"Where's your phone and bag?" he suddenly asked and I pursed my lips, adjusting my head so it was laying against his chest more comfortably.

"I left my shit at home. I took a random bag with the shit I needed because I didn't know them so I didn't want them going through my stuff," I explained and he hummed, the vibrations of his voice flowing through me, "I don't wanna go back home but if I wait too long then it will just make my dad even more mad."

"We'll figure it out baby," he said softly before he kissed the top of my head, "Come to the game and you can stay the night again. We'll deal with it tomorrow."

"Everyone's gonna see me like this at the game," I mumbled, being reminded of the gash in my face that would be impossible to hide.

"I think they're gonna notice the fact you're walking in with me more than the cut on your face," he answered with a light-heartedness in his tone making a smile break out on my face.

"Cocky much," I giggled as his hands fell away from mine and he wrapped his arms around my torso.

He leaned down, kissing my temple before he whispered in my ear, "You love it."

I closed my eyes as he gently squeezed my hips, kissing and biting the skin beneath my ear. I grabbed his forearms, pushing his hands off of me as I leaned forward. I spun around, kneeling on either side of his body as I sat down on his thighs before I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his again. His hands found their way to my ass, squeezing it roughly as he pulled my hips down to his. I began swivelling my hips against his until I realised moving my hips back and forth hurt my lower back too much.

"Wait," I whimpered as I pulled back and looked down at his puffy lips with his glassy eyes full of worry, "It just hurts my back to do that."

"Hold onto me," he whispered, gently kissing my lips again as I kept my arms around his neck and he sat up away from the headboard. He slowly flipped us around so he knelt between my legs and my head was placed gently on the pillows, "This better?"

"Mhm," I hummed as I smiled up at him, pulling his back down to kiss him again. He rolled his hips into mine making me gasp at the friction and he smirked against me, continuing his movements as his tongue slid past my teeth.

I whined into his mouth as he pressed against me further, bringing his right hand to my tank top and teasingly pulling it down my chest. He bit my bottom lip before moving his lips away from mine, trailing kisses down my jaw and neck before he kissed along my collarbones. He trailed down my chest and I moved my hands to his hair, his fingertips warm on my bare skin as he pulled my tank top down further. He sucked and bit across my boobs as I sighed at the sensation, looking down to see a few small bruises already forming on my pale skin.

Suddenly, the bedroom door was swung open and Chris yelped while holding his hands out in front of him, "Alright, chill out!"

"This is my room idiot, get the fuck out!" Matt yelled back as he quickly pulled my tank top back up and I covered my chest with my arms, my face heating as Chris furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm not getting out because we gotta go," Chris rolled his eyes, walking further into the room as Matt moved back from leaning over me, my legs still on either side of his waist.

"What?" Matt asked, confusion clear in his voice as he grabbed my left ankle, pulling my leg over his head so he could sit to the left of me. The sight of him ducking under my leg made me giggle because he could've easily just knelt over my legs to sit beside me.

"It's quarter to four already. Get your asses up we gotta go!" Chris clapped his hands twice to try to hurry us up as he picked a hoodie up from Matt's floor, "And stop stealing my shit."

"Get out dude," Matt rolled his eyes and Chris rolled his eyes back as he trudged out of the room, closing the door behind him. Matt rubbed a hand over his face before grumbling, "Fuck."

"I'll take care of that later," I glanced down at his now half-hard dick before I leaned forward, placing a kiss on his cheek and getting off of the bed, ignoring the ache between my legs as much as possible.

+++

Nick decided he would come along since it was their last game and he knew this was a big deal for his brothers as well as Nate. I chewed on my bottom lip nervously, running a hand over the cut on my face which Chris had placed butterfly tape on before we left. I tried to cover the bruise on my face as best as I could with the makeup Matt had bought me but if you looked close enough it was still noticeable.

I decided to wear the white long-sleeved shirt that Matt had bought for me earlier and I kept on the dark blue sweatpants I stole from him earlier. I also decided to wear the black zip-up hoodie and I kept the hood on to hide my face. I underestimated the cold weather because the moment we stepped out of the car, I shivered from the breeze.

"Layls!" I heard Allie call out and I walked to the front of the car to see we had parked to the right of Nate's car, both Nate and Mia jumping out of it.

"Hey," I said quietly, noticing the way she looked at my face in worry.

"Are you okay? What happened?" she quickly walked over to me and I let my mouth hang open, realising I didn't have a lie to come up with.

I decided I would go with the lie I told Matt's mother and I mumbled, "Some guys jumped me when I was walking home yesterday. I'm fine really."

"What the fuck?" Nate furrowed his eyebrows as he walked towards me with his duffle bag on his shoulder, clearly overhearing my explanation to Allie, "Who were they?"

"I don't know. I didn't even have anything on me so they didn't steal anything," I shrugged, nervous at their slight interrogation but I knew it was out of concern. Mia didn't say anything to me, instead she walked to the back of Matt's car from where he and Chris were getting their duffle bags from.

"Shit, I'm sorry that happened, Layls," he gave me a sympathetic look and I shrugged, trying to brush it off.

"It's okay. We're here for you guys. Don't worry about me," I gave him a half-hearted smile before I turned around to see Matt walking towards me, Mia following behind me as she talked.

"Hey Matty," Mia tapped his shoulder and he waited till he stood next to me to turn around to look at her, "Can I have your jacket? It's really cold."

"Nope," Matt answered blandly and I pursed my lips, pride filling me at his bluntness with her.

"What? You always give me your jacket," Mia's face twisted into a frown and Matt raised his eyebrows.

"I figured you would learn that you need a jacket by now. You're not getting mine. Besides," he said as he locked the car after Chris closed the trunk of the car and walked towards us, "I'm giving it to my girlfriend."

At the same time, all five of them made their shocked and confused sounds making me snicker to myself.

"You guys are actually dating? When did this happen?" Allie asked me excitedly as she tugged on the sleeve of my hoodie and I looked at her with my eyebrows raised.

"Like 3 hours ago," I chuckled as she jumped excitedly making me laugh at her.

"You failed to tell us this the entire way here!" Nick looked at us in shock and I smiled awkwardly as I shrugged.

"Figured it was easier to tell you all at the same time," Matt shrugged, swinging his arm over my shoulder and I leaned on his shoulder as more cars pulled into the car park.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Mia rolled her eyes, pure annoyance in her voice.

"I'm not doing this right now, Mia," Matt deadpanned and she scoffed, looking out into the car park.

"I'm gonna go talk to Dan," Mia mumbled before she spun around and walked towards the car that I saw Dan get out of moments ago. I could tell she wanted to argue but I think she held it in for the sake of Matt, knowing they had to be focused on the game.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" Chris threw his hands up as he began walking towards the building making me giggle at how dramatic he could be. We all followed behind him and I glanced back to see Mia death-staring me from where she leant against Dan's car.

I ignored her as we made our way inside, surpassing the lobby before we went inside the rink. The freezing air made me shiver once again and we reached the stairs where Allie and I were going to sit causing all of us to stop.

Nick and Allie both hugged Chris and Nate, wishing them good luck and I gave Nate a fist bump. Chris held his fist up to me for a fist bump and I furrowed my eyebrows with a smirk, pushing his hand out of the way before I wrapped my hands around his shoulders. I heard him let out a breathy chuckle before he carefully wrapped his hands around my back.

I pulled away, my hood falling off of my head as I looked at him, "Good luck."

"Thanks, Layls," Chris said as he ruffled my hair and I swatted his hand away before he laughed and made his way to the locker room. Allie and Nick then hugged Matt as I looked at Nate.

"You're not pissed at me anymore?" I asked cautiously and he smiled, shaking his head.

"If Matt's over it then so am I," he said and I gave him a smile as I nodded.

"Good luck out there. Don't fall on your ass," I said quietly and he shoved my shoulder back as he chuckled before he walked away. Nick and Allie had finished talking to Matt and they made their way up the stairs as I turned to look at Matt. People began filing past us and I pulled the hood back onto my head, feeling self-conscious from their stares of judgement.

"Hey," Matt said grabbing my chin for me to look at him, "You okay?"

"I should be asking you that," I raised my eyebrows and he smiled, running his thumb along my cheek.

"You said that last time," he pointed out and I smiled at the memory before I nodded.

"And I'm still correct," I shrugged and he moved his hand away from my face. I looked at him in confusion as he slid the duffle back off of his shoulder, placing it to his right before he slid off his letterman jacket, "Matt-"

"Shut up. I can tell how cold you are, pretty girl," he mumbled as he swung the jacket over my shoulders. I sighed, sliding my arms into the sleeves and he smiled at me, picking up his bag and placing it on his shoulder again, "Besides, I want everyone to know who you're here for."

"Okay fuck off and go win this game for me then," I smiled up at him and he put his cold fingers under the layers of clothes I had, gripping my waist as I leaned up to whisper in his ear, "It's your turn to get surprised later if you do."

"Oh my god," he mumbled as I kissed his jaw before I pulled back, "Good luck kiss?"

"If I give you a kiss will you go after?" I asked, knowing he needed to go get changed by now and he hummed, nodding his head. I rolled my eyes playfully before I placed my lips against his. He hummed against me, attempting to slide his tongue between my lips but I knew he'd get carried away so I didn't let him. I pulled back, looking up at him with a dopey smile. I pecked his lips once more before I said, "Go. You need to focus."

"Yes ma'am," he nodded, unravelling his hands from around my waist before he walked away to the locker rooms. I pursed my lips, spinning around and making my way up the stairs to join Nick and Allie.

“I’m not over this!” Allie squealed as I sat down to her right and I rolled my eyes, pulling Matt’s jacket around me tighter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mia ascending the stairs before she stopped beside me.

“Can you move?” she asked, her tone bitchy now that Matt wasn’t here and I just stared at her with a blank expression, “I sit next to Allie.”

“Maybe you should’ve got here faster then,” I deadpanned, not bothering to give her the time of day as I looked back at the rink in front of me.

“Can you just not be a bitch and move?” she questioned, her whiny voice made me cringe.

I didn’t bother looking at her as I replied, “Take a look in the mirror before you start calling me a bitch.”

“Layls,” Nick mumbled my name and I looked at him with a questioning look, “Sit between me and Allie. We have shit to talk.”

I bit the inside of my lip for a moment before I nodded. I didn’t want to give Mia the satisfaction of moving but Nick was much nicer about it and I knew I wanted to talk to Nick more since out of our the whole group of friends I’d spent the least amount of time with him.

Nick shuffled left to create space between Allie and him which I gladly sat down in. Mia happily sat beside Allie before she pulled her phone out of the white puffer jacket that looked too big for her.

+++

I never knew I could be so stressed watching a sport but I finally understood why NFL games got so intense. This was nothing compared to the Superbowl, I was well aware of that, but I also knew that this meant so much to Matt, Chris and Nate and now me. I was practically ripping the skin around my nails in anticipation.

In the last third, both teams were at 4 points each and as they skated around the ice quickly, I held my breath the whole time. I don't think I'd ever seen my friends so focused on anything in their life and I was watching in awe at how quickly they moved.

There were only 2 minutes left and I knew they wouldn't want to go overtime so these last 2 minutes meant everything. My eyes couldn't keep up with the puck as it glided across the ice and Allie was gripping onto the bench we were sitting on. Nick was biting his nails nervously as Mia held her phone up to record the end of the game. I was leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, cracking my knuckles as they made it to the right half of the rink.

I glanced up at the clock that read only 45 seconds left as I mumbled to myself, "Come on guys."

"They have to fucking make this," Allie tilted her head in anticipation and watched as they rounded the back of the net with the puck. The goalie was practically lying on the floor to block the puck as much as possible and I watched as Matt hit the puck towards Chris who attempted to shoot it into the net. It hit the pole and rebounded as everyone around us groaned.

Nate swooped in and hit it back to Chris before the opposing team could get it. Suddenly, Chris hit it again at lightning speed and this time it didn't hit the pole. Instead, it went directly into the net and the horn blared to signal that it was the end of the game.

All four of us jumped out of our seats, cheering with pure excitement and pride. The entire team skated onto the ice and they huddled around, a few of them almost falling over as they threw their gloved hands up in victory. I could barely spot Nate, Chris and Matt as their team surrounded them but I was so full of joy that I turned to Nick instead.

"There's no fucking way they just did that!" I yelled and Nick laughed at my excitement. I could tell he was equally as proud, if not prouder, but he kept his excitement at bay unlike Allie, Mia and I.

"Let's go!" Allie's hand suddenly gripped mine and I was pulled down the stairs, Mia leading us as Nick trailed behind me. We made our way around the rink towards where they got on the ice, ignoring everywhere staring at us. We waited as the losing team trudged out of the gate and went to the lockers with disappointment written on their faces until Matt's team began getting off the ice. I stayed back as Allie, Mia and Nick congratulated the rest of the team but I looked back to the centre of the ice where Nate, Chris and Matt were trailing behind with pure joy on their faces.

As soon as Matt stepped off of the ice, I practically lunged at him and he chuckled as I wrapped my hands around his torso. I heard Allie, Mia and Nick praising our friends but I just left my head on Matt's chest.

"You would think he's the one who got the winning shot," I heard Chris's sarcastic voice chirp up and I pursed my lips, pulling away from Matt as I turned around to look at him, "I don't even get a congrats?"

"Fuck off," I rolled my eyes with a smile before I stepped towards him, hugging him around his torso as well. I left my head on his chest for a moment before I mumbled, "Proud of you, kid."

"Thanks, Layls," he chuckled and I pulled away from him, looking up at him since the skates made him a lot taller. He ruffled my hair once again and I furrowed my eyebrows, pushing his arm away in annoyance. I turned to Nate last as Nick turned to Chris to give him a hug.

"I guess you can have a hug too," I rolled my eyes as the sarcasm rolled off of my tongue and Nate chuckled. I hugged his torso, the layers of clothes making him feel bigger than he was, "Good job."

"Thanks," he responded quietly and I looked up at him, my arms still around his torso.

I furrowed my eyebrows as he gave me a half-hearted smile before I asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a stressful game," he shrugged and I let my arms unravel from around him before Mia spoke up.

"Let's go celebrate!" she cheered happily and I turned around to see she had her arm around Matt's torso. I felt a pang of jealousy run through me but I kept my cool so I looked up at Matt.

"I agree," I raised my eyebrows as I wrapped my right arm around Nate's shoulders, "Let's celebrate, guys."

I knew Matt could tell what I was doing because he smirked before he, Chris and Nate walked towards the locker rooms. I spun on my heels and started making my way to the exit of the building with Allie, Mia and Nick trailing behind me.

The cold air nipped at my face and I slid my hood back on my head as I leaned against the brick wall beside the entrance. Allie, Mia and Nick engaged themselves in conversation as I just listened. I looked over to my left to see a familiar face, cigarette smoke emitting from his mouth. I furrowed my eyebrows before I turned to Nick.

"I'll be right back," I told him before I pushed away from the wall, walking over to him before I called out, "Hey stranger."

"Holy shit, kid. What happened to you?" he asked as I stepped closer and I smirked, looking back at my friends who were looking at me curiously.

"Some guys my dad asked me to deliver to fucked me up, Wes. They said it was the third time he didn't give them enough coke," I spoke quietly, making sure no one else could hear before I looked up at him, "But what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I work here," he shrugged and I raised my eyebrows, not realising he had a job, "Only started like three days ago. Just helps with the rent."

"Who would've thought?" I asked rhetorically and he chuckled, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, "You have a spare? I left mine at Dad's."

"Of course," he nodded, pulling the packet out of the pocket of his old jeans before handing one to me. I placed it between my lips before he sparked his lighter, lighting the end of it for me before I gave him a thankful nod, "Why are you here?"

"My boyfriend's the captain of one of the teams that played," I shrugged and I didn't miss the way his eyebrows shot up.

"Boyfriend? That I would never have guessed," he chuckled and I smiled, pursing my lips with a nod.

"Makes two of us," I chuckled, the smoke of the cigarette falling out of my mouth. I noticed the way Wes's eyes darted behind me before his eyebrows furrowed.

"They your friends?" he asked and I turned around to see Allie and Nick looking curious as Mia just looked disgusted.

"The one in the white puffer is t-"

"The bitch? I know who she is," he raised his eyebrows and I pursed my lips, holding in a laugh before I took another drag of the cigarette, "They're walking over."

I quickly blew the smoke out of my mouth before I turned around to see all three of them walking towards us. I gave them a gentle smile, ignoring Mia as per usual before I said, "Guys this is Wes. Wes, this is Nick and Allie."

"Nice to meet you!" Allie smiled cheerfully and Wes gave her a nod before giving her a once-over and then looked at Nick. Allie pointed to Mia before she said, "This is Mia."

"I know," Wes answered shortly and you could tell Mia did not want to be there, "The game go well?"

"We won," Allie said cheerfully as I took another drag of the cigarette, blowing the smoke away from them. I saw the team begin to walk out of the building, looking around for us.

"They're done," I nodded towards the door they were exiting causing all three of them to turn around.

"Guys!" Nick called out, waving them over before they all filed towards us.

"I should get back to it," Wes mumbled to me and I caught Matt's eyes who was looking between Wes and I with confusion covering his expression.

"Hang on. I want you to meet my boyfriend," I told him as I waved Matt over as Nick, Allie and Mia started talking to the rest of the team. Matt rounded the group before he stood next to me, "Matt, this is Wes. Wes, this is Matt."

"Nice to put a face to the name," Wes nodded and Matt just glanced at him, giving him a nod before looking at me.

"Where did you get that?" Matt questioned, looking at the cigarette in my hand before I took another drag of it.

"He had a spare," I nodded towards Wes and Matt hummed, wrapping his arm around my shoulder possesively. I looked at Wes who was holding in a chuckle by pursing his lips.

"You work here?" Matt asked Wes as I dropped the now burnt-down cigarette on the ground before crushing it with my boot.

"Yeah," Wes nodded, quickly checking his phone before he looked at me, "Speaking of which, I gotta get back. Good to see you, kid."

"I'll let you know what happens," I tilted my head as I looked up at him and he held his fist up for a fist bump. I connected my fist with his before he began walking backwards.

"Good to meet you, man. Take care of her," Wes called to Matt before he rounded the corner. I looked up at Matt who was looking down at me with raised eyebrows.

"Oh chill out. He's just friends with me for drugs," I teased and his face didn't waver. I sighed, moving to stand in front of him, "I saw him and I wanted to say hi. The last time I saw him was when you picked me up."

"Matt!" I heard Dan's voice call loudly causing both of us to look at him, "We're going to downs. Meet you there?"

"Sure," Matt nodded before some of the team walked towards the parking lot, "You wanna stay behind?"

"You should go celebrate," I shrugged and he smirked at me.

"I wanna celebrate with you first," he wrapped his arms around my waist, digging his thumbs into the waistband of my pants before he looked over at Nate, "You good to take them in the van? We'll meet you guys at Downs in a bit."

"Alright," Nate shrugged and Matt pulled his keys off of where they were clipped to his jeans, throwing them at Nate. Nate then threw his keys to Matt before he said, "Don't fuck up my car."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Matt smiled and Nate rolled his eyes. They all made their way to the van, bidding their goodbyes as Matt turned to look at me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, wrapped my arms around his neck before I pecked his lips gently.

"I'm deciding whether I'm mad or not," he mumbled and I smiled at him, tilting my head as I gave him puppy dog eyes.

"Don't be mad at me, baby. You just won the finals. We have some celebrating to do!" I said happily and he pursed his lips, attempting to hide the smile threatening to take over his face. I unravelled my arms from around him and I grabbed his hand in mine instead before I giggled, "Let's go."

I led him towards Nate's car and he quickly rounded the car to the passenger side, unlocking the car and swinging the door open before he gestured to the open door and said, "Ladies first."

"Such a gentleman," I kissed his cheek before I slid into the car. He closed the door for me before he walked to the back of the car, throwing his bag in the trunk before he jumped in the driver's seat. As he started the car I mumbled, "Fuck it's cold."

"Good thing Nate has a fancy ass car," he responded before he clicked some buttons in the console and I felt the seat under me start to get warm.

"He has seat heaters?" I gasped in awe as I clicked my seatbelt in, adjusting his letterman jacket to cover my cold hands and he chuckled with a nod. He clicked his seatbelt in before we began making our way out of the parking lot.

"What food do you want?" he asked and I shrugged as he pulled his phone out of his hoodie, passing it to me, "McDonalds?"

"Sure," I shrugged, holding his phone in my hands unsure of what to do with it.

"You can plug my phone into the aux. My password is your name in numbers," he said casually and I let a smile creep onto my face, typing the password in. It unlocked the phone making my smile widen before I found the Spotify app, looking through the playlists he had made.

"How long has your password been my name?" I asked and he hummed, thinking to himself as I put on the playlist he had made for when he was driving.

"Like three days," he shrugged and I pursed my lips, leaning over the console to place a kiss on his cheek. He smirked as I rested my head on his shoulder and he placed his right hand on my thigh, running his thumb in circles.

The feeling of having his hand on my thigh sparked the memory of my promise before the game began and I smirked to myself as I let my left hand fall onto his knee. I slowly dragged my hand from his knee up to his thigh and I felt his thumb stop its movement against my thigh. I trailed my hand even further, my palm brushing against his dick and his breath halted for a moment.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, focusing on nothing but the road and I smirked, lifting my head off of his shoulder to kiss his shoulder.

"Returning the favour," I mumbled, placing my hand on his half-hard dick as moved up to kiss his neck. He let out a shaky breath as he moved his hand from my thigh, gripping the steering wheel to keep himself focused on the road.

"I'm driving, Layls," he muttered and I smirked against his neck, still palming his dick from his pants as he let out a heavy breath.

"Then focus on the road, pretty boy," I whispered lowly and I removed my hand from his dick. Instead, I used my hand to unbutton his jeans and I pulled down the zipper. I slid my hand under his jeans, keeping my hand out of his boxers as I palmed his dick and he let out a groan, the extra barrier of his jeans gone creating more friction.

Suddenly, the car swerved to the left and it came to a halt. I looked around to see Matt had pulled into a random empty parking lot and I looked up at him to see him giving me a deadpan expression.

"Get in the back," he told me and I pursed my lips as he swung open the door to get out. I climbed through the centre console as Matt jumped in the back and I sat up on the right side of the car.

Within a second, he grabbed my face and smashed his lips against mine. I moved to swing my right leg over him, straddling his waist as he gripped my hips harshly. I hissed when his fingertips pressed into my lower back where the bruise had started on either side.

"Sorry," he mumbled against my lips, sliding his hands down to my ass instead of my back to avoid the bruise. I hummed against his lips before I pulled away, sliding my hands down his torso before I shuffled to kneel on the floor between his parted thighs.

My back was pressed against the back of the driver's seat and I smirked up at him as I snuck my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and jeans at the same time. He lifted his hips slightly and I shuffled them down his thighs, his now hard dick springing free.

"Thank god these windows are tinted," he mumbled to himself making me giggle as I let go of the material, wrapping my hand around the base of his dick as I smiled up at him sweetly. He groaned, throwing his head back onto the headrest of the seat as I began moving my hand along him at a teasingly slow pace.

I shuffled forward between his thighs, opening my mouth as I let the spit fall from my mouth to his tip. I used my thumb to spread it around slowly earning a low moan vibrating through his body as he tilted his head back down to look at me. I ignored the ache in my back as I leaned forward, licking a stripe from the base to the tip causing him to twitch in my hand.

I let a sadistic smile take over my face as I looked up at him before I completely took him in my mouth, pressing my head down so my nose met his stomach. He let out a whine at the sudden movement and his hands flew to my hair, threading his fingers through the blonde strands. I moved my head at a slow pace still, teasing him dangerously slow as his grip on my hair tightened every so slightly.

"Stop teasing me," he whined, his hips lifting in slight desperation and if my lips weren't restricted by the shape of his dick, I would've broken out in a grin.

Instead, I decided to tease him a little bit more to see how far I could push it. He continued to whimper and whine at my slow pace, pausing at the tip to swirl my tongue around the sensitive slit. I started moving my head slightly faster as his breathing picked up, the fingers tangled in my hair became twice as harsh as he tugged on the strands. I moaned around him earning a low moan to fall from his open mouth.

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, the only light provided by the moon hidden behind the clouds through the tinted windows. My eyes watered as I moved quicker, the repeated motion of his dick hitting the back of my throat eliciting tumbles of moans and whines from him. I pulled back briefly, catching my breath as I pumped him in my right hand. I flattened my left palm against his bare thigh as I adjusted to sit with my ass on my heels before I wrapped my lips around the now-reddened tip. He mumbled profanities as he squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to look down at me as I intentionally gave him the bigger doe eyes I could muster.

"Fuck, I'm close," he breathed out, the grip on my hair tightening. He trusted up into my mouth and I let him guide himself to his high, his hand threaded in my head directing my head at the right pace. He sucked a breath in sharply before he whined, "Baby."

I hummed around him and his hips twitched upward one last time before the white liquid coated my mouth and throat. He panted as the grip on my hair fell away and the muscles on his stomach twitched from the comedown. I swirled my tongue around him one last time before I pulled back, looking up at him with watery eyes and a flushed face as I swallowed.

"Feel better?" I asked, a cheeky smile on my lips as he just stared down at me. I wiped away the tears that had fallen down my cheeks and he reached forward, delicately tucking the strands of hair that had fallen in front of my face behind my ear. It was a stark contrast from the grip he had in my hair moments ago and I could tell he was trying to make up for the fact he was rough with me.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice a whisper and I nodded as I moved to push myself up. I planted myself on the seat next to him as he slid his boxers and jeans back on properly before he mumbled, "Did I hurt you?"

"Yeah," I shrugged and his head moved so quickly I was convinced he would get whiplash as he looked at me with concern. I smiled as I leaned forward, cupping his stubble-covered jaw and I kissed his lips gently before I pulled back with a smile, "Stop stressing, I liked it."

"I didn't mean to do that," he spoke carefully, looking directly at me with eyes that felt like always saw right through me.

"You're too sweet to me, pretty boy," I smiled gently as I placed my lips on his again and he gently placed his hands around my waist.

The kiss was full of tenderness and care, not passion and desire like it usually was. It filled my chest with warmth and it terrified me but I decided not to push it away. Instead, I let it sit and linger as he delicately traced his hands along my skin and I sighed into the kiss, the moment of peace feeling like I was on an emotional high I hadn't experienced before.

It felt like in the moment of clarity with no exterior factors to disturb us and nothing else to think about, I had a realisation I knew would hit me any day now.

I had fallen unexplainably in love with the boy in front of me and there was no way of backing out now.

tags:

@ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @sturnfix @lilsstvrn @sturniololol @dsturniolo @sturniolowhore @jebbie-project-blog @jaxyy219 @chrisstankyleg @lov3bug @pinklittleflower @thatcrazybitch-69 @trinity2058 @alorsxsturn @chrizznmetswife @junnniiieee07 @mattsturnioloisbae @stasiesturn @mattsobvimyfav

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[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 5 (final)

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, angry sex, p in v, anal, sex on Negan's bike, slight daddy kink, situationship

Part 4 here // Part 1 here

“Knew I’d find you here, doll.” Negan got off his bike, sighing before he sat next to me on the steps of the cabin. “Wanna tell me why the hell you just up and left?” His leg pressed against mine as I stared ahead at the ground, unable to look at him. 

“Just needed time to think.”

“Look at me.” His voice was deep, demanding, and I could hear the pain dripping from it. I refused to look at him.. refused to blink. All I could do was stare at a walker pinned to a tree in the distance like it might save me from this moment. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Negan nod disappointedly before looking away and my heart sank.  “We’ve both had enough time to think, y/n.” His voice cracked when he said my name like tears were forming in his throat. “On the drive over here, I had every intention of fighting for you. For us. But then I thought, I don't want to be with someone who isn’t certain they wanna be with me too.”

I nodded acceptingly. “That’s fair.” I refused to cry, not wanting him to see how this was affecting me. I’d be brave now, and feel sorry for myself later like always. “So why are you even here, then?” I asked and the question made Negan scoff. “Because I at least have enough respect for you to tell you goodbye.”

“I guess you don’t remember our first night together.” I scoffed back at him. 

“How can I ever fuckin’ forget? … and that? Is the problem. Buuut…” His voice changed suddenly, like he switched into the asshole character I saw at Alexandria the first time. “...If I can survive losing Lucille, I’ll damn sure be okay losing you, darlin’.” 

His words felt like a punch to my gut, leaving me numb and speechless. Negan stood after a few moments, whistling as he walked back to his bike but I was behind him before he could reach it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to draw the attention of the dead. 

Negan quickly turned to face me, smirking while he towered over me. “It means.. I’ll go back to my wives at the sanctuary. And you? can sit here for the rest of your lonely little life.. wishing you still had me.” 

My only response was my hand colliding with his cheek hard enough to sting my skin and draw blood from his lip. Negan grinned wider, showing his white teeth as he wiped a drop of blood away with his thumb. There was a darkness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before and it made me wonder how I was stupid enough to ever believe there was good in him. 

“Fuck you.” My jaw clenched as I spoke and mindfully held back my fists at my sides, desperately wanting to press one into his arrogant skull. 

“Yeah?” He asked, tilting his head. “Okay.” He breathed before pulling me forward by my wrist and smashing his lips into mine. I tasted the lingering blood on his mouth and sucked harder at his lip like it was some miracle drug that would heal me from his hurtful words. 

He bit me back and I shoved him away, breathing heavily. A low grumble came from his throat before he pulled me back to him and wrapped his fingers around throat. “You want me to stop? Tell me.” His grip tightened around my neck and my lips remained closed. His head fell back as he let out a loud chuckle and returned his heavy gaze to mine. My eyes watered from the pressure building in my neck and his eyes softened along with his grip.

Negan looked away before letting go of my neck completely. For a moment I thought he felt bad about it, until he grabbed my wrist and maneuvered me to bend over his bike. I gasped when my stomach pressed into the seat and knocked the wind out of my lungs. Before I had a chance to stand, Negan yanked my shorts down along with my underwear and lined his already hard and ready cock up to my entrance. 

"You ready to stop with the dramatics, darlin'? We both know we can't stay away from each other." He slid into me with one deep push and kept himself there for a moment. "Feel how perfect that is? We were made for each other, baby." He began thrusting and my moans grew louder as heat flooded my core. 

His hand found my ponytail and he jerked it harshly, making me yelp and my back arched while his dick reached a deeper level inside me.

"Negan, fuuuuck, feels so good."

"I know baby, I know." He breathed heavily, keeping his pace fast and steady. Letting go of my ponytail, his hand dropped to my ass while the other remained squeezing my hip. I exhaled a pained breath when I felt his thumb force its way into my other hole.

"So pretty and tight." He said, looking down to watch his thumb and cock slide in and out of me simultaneously. Then suddenly he removed both and I whined at the empty feeling.

He circled the head of his dick around my asshole and my eyes went wide with the sudden painful stretch of his tip entering.

"Fuck." Negan grunted before pushing the rest of length inside me until his balls were pressed against my pussy lips. We both moaned in unison as his pace sped up. "Shit, baby, look at you. Taking daddy's cock like a fucking pro. So fucking proud of my girl." He yanked my ponytail again, hitting a spot that made me see stars.

"Negan!" I practically screamed.

His other hand reached in front of me, covering my mouth. His fingers gripped painfully around my face, bringing tears to my eyes while he ripped my insides apart.

"Goddamn it, doll. Gonna fill that little ass with my cum and watch it drip outta you. You want that? Huh?" He pulled you back further towards him, biting your neck after whispering the filthy words in your ear.

The heat continued to build in your core and you felt yourself getting close. "Yes, please Negan. I need it, please!" I begged desperately.

Negan chuckled darkly and pulled back, leaving you empty again. He finished himself off with his hand, grunting as he spilled onto the ground.

I turned around, pulling my shorts back up quickly. "What the hell?" I asked, confused at his sudden change of plans.

"Ahhh." He said relieved, buttoning himself back up and adjusting his clothing. "Something wrong, darlin'?"

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. "No, not at all."

"Good. Because I'm done pleasing you, sweetheart." Negan smirked at you, throwing a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

"Just like that, huh? You're just.. giving up that easy? Did I mean anything to you?"

"Of course. Always will. And when you work out your own shit and realize you fucked up, I'll be here. I love you, y/n. Nothing will change that."

I watched him disappear in the distance as he drove off, taking my heart with him.

Three weeks later:

I've settled back into Alexandria, slowly making amends with the group. The Saviors had a falling out the day we attacked the Sanctuary and we haven't seen any of them since. Except Negan.

After our escapade at the cabin, Negan had apparently drove to Alexandria and surrendered. He's been a prisoner here since the day he showed up and my heart hurts for him. I haven't been to see him, and by doing so, I'm only hurting myself. I guess its my punishment to myself for letting him go. But its been three weeks now and I can't wait any longer.

Everyone knows about our past situationship after I felt it necessary to come clean. I figured we would never be able to move on unless I told the truth. At first it didn't go well, but time mends everything and I think they're starting to forgive me.

It was getting dark when I knocked on Rick's door, explained the cause of my desperation, and he reluctantly gave me the keys to Negan's cell. Arriving at the door of the basement, I took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs into darkness. The only light in the cold room was the moonlight shining through one small window by his cell and it reminded me of our moment together in the trailer - the day I took a bullet for him. I knew then I was in love him with him and nothing has changed since.

"Negan.." I whispered, walking closer.

He lied on his back on his cot, looking up at the ceiling with a hand behind his head.

Silence.

"Please talk to me."

Nothing. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Ok, I'll talk then." I leaned against his bars. "I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to come see you. I needed some time to work out my shit - as you put it." I paused, giving him a moment to react but he didn't. "Well.. it's worked out. If you care?" I said teasingly.

His head fell to the side as he looked at me, trying not to smile. I took that as a welcome sign and quickly opened his cell door with the key. He barely had time to stand up before I ran to his arms and kissed him like my life depended on it.

He lifted me before laying me down on the cot and climbing over me. His mouth stayed connected to mine and without words, we made a million promises to each other in that moment.

We'd never leave again.

A/n: This final part was slightly difficult for me to finish. I have so many other one-shots in process that I'm ready to focus on, so I'm sorry if this felt rushed. But this entire story was so fun to write. Thanks so much to whoever requested it! <3

Tag list: tag list: @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor @dilfsandmartinis @sarahhxx03 @minaxcarter @kukka-roo @rinsdesires @6kaja9 @sasiiik9174 @fanficwriter5 @theoraekenslover

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #negan fanfiction #jdmorgan #jdm fanfiction #negan smith #jdm x reader #twd negan #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jdmfanfiction #negan smith fanfiction #negan x you #negan x reader #negan smith x reader #the walking dead negan #negan smith smut #negan twd #negan smut #negan smith x you #jeffrey dean morgan x you #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #jdm x you #jdm smut

[wrathofthepassion]

Heres another post before I'm gonna go off to have my eye surgery.

So, dwhos gonna tell me what happened to wings in Hazbin Hotel? And yes, Hazbin Hotel specifically.

Cause it's REALLY bad here, and quite literally makes the already bad designs MUCH worse.

Just- Look at Emily. She looks like a plucked out pigeon. She was already downgraded by being whitewashed, but with these fuckass wings she looks even worse!

Heres a quick sketch of wings I made in like- 5 minutes? And she already looks more like an ACTUAL Angel!

And I wouldnt complain about this nitpick as much if the MOTHERFUCKING LUCIFER DIDNT HAVE THESE

HE LOOKS LIKE A HOBO! A LOSER! HE DOESNT LOOK INTIMIDATING AT ALL!

And we KNOW that Viv and Spindlehorse CAN make actual wings and intimidating look, they did it with Stolas!

So WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED WITH HOTEL???

Jesus, I need to redesign all this shit soon, I cant look at it much longer.

#hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical

[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.  

A senseless daydream.  

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it.  Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape.  This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place.  It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.  

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt.  Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life.  And last week he was suddenly dead.  It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie.  All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor.  Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.  

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s.  Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste.  Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.  

Whatever you wanted. 

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke.  His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you.  He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him.  He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place.  Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick.  He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible.  Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible.  And for what?  For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions.  Pathetic, he knew.  But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.  

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man.  Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything.  He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come.  A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind.  And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver.  The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him.  He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better.  It was a lie.  He never had the flu.  He didn’t feel better.  He wanted to die.  And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive.  Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon.  His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones.  There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did.  A flaw in the system.  And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?  

Several.

He thought to himself.  

You could have gone to school, shown up.  

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no.  So.  Many.  Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death.  He couldn’t stop making excuses.  Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse.  For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together.  Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had.  It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision.  He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid.  Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed.  And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues.  Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies.  Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum.  Dancing in the living room.  Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees.  Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin.  Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense.  Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer.  That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised.  Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights.  Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in.  Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home.  Only he rarely did.  Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time.  Years and years of push back.  A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.  

“My dad has a ton of jobs.”  He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.  

The kids would snicker.  Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness.  And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day.  Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them.  Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature.  At least that’s how dad described it.  It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse.  They called his dad a drunk.  They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged.  “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie.  Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time.  Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt.  And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up.  Closure in some kind of fucked up way.  Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with.  Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes.  Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability.  No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door.  He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it.  This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions.  He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world.  They shouldn’t have to worry about me.  With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana.  A life he’d always longed for anyway.  

Be careful what you wish for.  

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away.  “One slip up…”  They had said.  It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him.  Literally anyone.  As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.  

Cause he was nothing if not a problem.  First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.  

“Eddie?!”  

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry.  The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.”  His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime.  “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear.  Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.  With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made.  You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“Shh.”  You soothe. 

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose.  A wordless commitment.  Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere.  You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure.  Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had.  Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at.  He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.  

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house.  Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred.  If either spoke it would make it real.  Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him.  There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind.  Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip.  It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.  

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him.  In the standard of fight or flight, he froze.  Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together.  His croaking voice made that hard.  But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability.  And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime.  Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him.  Maybe that was dare you even think it, love.  But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions.  Conclusions you backtracked on immediately.  It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.      

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–”  A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.”  His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior.  “I shouldn’t–”  There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath.  “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn.  Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet.  Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.  

“How’d you know?”  He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.  

“Wayne called me.”  You sigh.  “Said he got my number from Steve.  Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?”  At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it.  “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in.  Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.”  You assure, taking care to relax your features.  “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out.  He wanted me to check in.  I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.”  You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again.  You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick.  The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor.  There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better.  You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again.  It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.  When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage.  In his eyes.

“But I will be.  Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses.  Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble.  A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.”  You demand.

“No, Bambi.  Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key.  Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself.  And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses.  His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness.  Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in.  He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!”  Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow.  “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down.  I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it.  My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.”  Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze.  A plea.  “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in.  I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal.  It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him.  The room turned colder, more vacant.  Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart?  His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall.  The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.  

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended.  Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness.  Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what?  Stormed off?  Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat.  He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other.  And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness.  The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut.  An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.”  You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth.   “And I did.  You didn’t say how long or—or where to go.  But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake.  Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.  

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips.  Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you.  Your boy.  

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense.  Bambi and Eddie.  There is not one without the other, not anymore.  Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”  

It just fell from his tongue.  A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious?  Is that what you’re gonna ask?”  He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping.  Not because you’re afraid, no, never.  You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts.  “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.  

“Bad.”  He reiterates.  “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.”  Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip.  “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it.  And I’ll run with it.  Far.  Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.” 

“I’m a pathetic man.  Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”  

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.”  You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.”  He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.  

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.”  You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow!  Jesus fuck.”  Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek.  “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of.  Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.  

“Can you…can you do that again?”  He whispers.  Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck.  His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest  wet dreams.  

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail.  And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

 He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.  

“Like that, baby?”  You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.”  A whisper that tells you everything.  “I-I never—no one’s ever—“  He tries to warn you.

“What?”  You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe.  “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”  

“Just my hand.”  Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap.  Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his.  Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.  

“We can stop.”  You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.”  His voice shakes, chest heaving.  “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”  

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him.  But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable.  Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.”  You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him.  “Let me take care of you.”  

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles.  You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you.  His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.  

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far.  His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.”  You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.”  He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria.  “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.  

“Please, baby.  Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.  

“You bought condoms?  Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.  

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!”  You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back.  You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?”  You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.  

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care.  Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed.  You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you.  Purely Eddie.  Woodsy and minty.  A tad smoky.  And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room.  And then it plays.  A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love.  A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.  

“Well alright, cowboy.”  You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.  

“Shut up.”  He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.  

“C’mere.”  You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you.  “Wanna see you.” 

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach.  Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago.  The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined.  While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side.  Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him.  Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants.  Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.  

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet.  But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.  

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side.  His eyes grow, lips parted in awe.  And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.  

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control.  And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.  

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval.  That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it.  Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red.  Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.”  While grinding into nothing, poor boy.  “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands.  You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth.  Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps.  Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair. 

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot.  Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned.  Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone.  The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom.  The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.  

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm.  Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.  

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting.  The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

 Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds.  Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what.  Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime.  Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm.  His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted.  You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark.  All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you.  He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.  

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless.  Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit.  Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”.  That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close.  Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.  

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart.  Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.  

It could help though.  And that’s all that mattered.  If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing.  If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.  

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree.  Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar.  Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works.  Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.  

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did.  Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste.  Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.  

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes.  While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet.  Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity.  Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips.  A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”  You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.  

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth.  It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.  

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?”  He laughs, voice husky with sleep.  

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”  

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created.  Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow.  He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”  

Eddie just stared. 

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!”  You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you.  When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.  

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse.  I just didn’t.  I’m sorry.”  His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck.  And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you.  I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.”  You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table.  Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you.  Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute.  He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing. 

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I.  Love.  You.”  You enunciate each word with a peck.  “Point blank.  No exceptions.  You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man?  We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records.  A huge stack of them.  All genres.  Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal.  It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling.  That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?”  You scoff.  “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school.  You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach.  He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.  

And he was blushing. 

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me.  I picked some out that I knew you’d like.  Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them.  Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him.  Like Pandora’s box or something.  Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper.  A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold.  His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper.  It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head.  Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture.  At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said. 

“No fucking way.”  He smiles, half laughs.  Then repeats himself.  Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around.  Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.  

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table.  The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other.  Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between.  His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three.  Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled.  Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere.  You miss it.  But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything.  Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi.  Makes small talk with mom and grandma.  Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day.  No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her.  He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang.  Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual.  Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background.  Something about a broken sled.  Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either.  This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on.  Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default.  She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially.  Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house.  Beautiful in the summertime.  Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays.  One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #smoke signals #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie Munson series #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic

[harlowhockeystick]

would love a blurb based off of my boy only breaks his favorite toys & guilty as sin for nico hischier!

"he was my best friend" & "without ever touching his skin, how can i be guilty as sin?" | poetic prompts | warnings:

it had been ages since you'd last seen nico. the past three summers that he's come back to his homeland to see family, you were always the opposite direction. it wasn't a bad thing, though. you had left things with nico rocky and unresolved, and before it could get better he left the country for the nhl and wouldn't come back for another ten months. but now, this summer, he's coming back and you're in town. for once, you'd be in the same neighborhood as him. and now you can't avoid how messy you left things, and how awkward it's going to be.

"how do you feel?" your friend asked, knowing that nico was coming into town this week. she knew- hell, your whole friend group knew what it was like. the tension, animosity, but also all of the fun you had together. "do you think you'll talk about it?"

you sighed, "i don't know. he was my best friend, and he got scared when i told him i loved him." sitting next to your friend in the coffee shop you began to talk about things from the past, bringing up old memories and old drama from your friend group over four years ago.

you'd been in contact with him of course, keeping up with him across the sea, the occasional late night/early morning phone call to catch up. texting him when he was in the news, congratulating him on wins. it was nice to stay in contact with him, but you still had an underlying sense of anxiety and tension with nico, that you hadn't figured out how to move around yet.

"but, i'll admit to you, i've been thinking about him a lot." you drift off in the middle of the sentence, as you begin to think about how much you thought of nico on a daily basis. it didn't occur to you until now just how much you thought of nico. you thought of hugging him again, or even just touching him in general. seeing his eyes in person again, smelling his cologne, hearing his voice.

"you're so guilty, y/n! you're down bad for a guy you haven't seen in so long. make that make sense." your friend teases.

i just landed. i really want to see and talk with you, can we grab dinner? sent 5:50 pm

speak of the devil. you take a second to respond, before finishing your conversation with your friend. secretly, you hope he felt the same way you did. not riddled with anxiety of course, but you hoped he wanted to make things right with you. get on the same page, start over together.

"without ever touching him, how can i be guilty as sin though?" you share a laugh with your friend and finish the conversation.

i'd love that. need a ride from the airport? sent 5:56 pm

definitely. see you in a few ❤️ sent 5:58 pm

#j's writing #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #this sucks i still haven't figured out how to write for nico yet

[kurtcobainindresses]

my take on challengers

1. not about the movie itself but i'm so excited for what seems to be the first occurrence of monoculture in a while it's so fun to all be talking about the same thing and it not being t swizzle related

2. i'm so sorry for this but i don't think zendaya has enough gravitas to carry the movie. like she's very good as the alluring figure you're attracted to right away but as soon as she starts speaking i can see the wheels turning in her head and it's clear to me she's not embodying the character as a person with a past and memories as much as emulating whatever emotion tashi's supposed to feel in a given scene. this is even worse in the "present timeline" scenes like i just did not get 30yo mom who is bitter and dissatisfied and weary at all her body language was the exact same in every timeline when she's supposed to be at very different stages in her life

3. continuation of the preceding point but there's no triangle if all three relationships aren't equally as entrancing!!!! and to me the scenes between art and patrick were a 100% more interesting than any of the scenes they had with tashi individually unfortunately. i just didn't get anything from zendaya

4. i like that the attraction between art and patrick was implied BUT it could have been taken further imo. we see patrick swiping (left or right i don't remember) on a guy on tinder so we know there's something going on there but what about art???? are we just supposed to think tashi repressed him so bad he just forgot about it??? (and yeah the final scene yada yada. i know. but still it felt like it still went unacknowledged for quite a while)

5. some of the editing choices were bad ie. the timestamps which were unnecessary after the first time (we could tell by the length of their hair!!!) and the slomo at certain points (when tashi was walking down the alleyway like it was a runway with her fuckass bob 😭😭😭)

6. the score fucks trent reznor and atticus finch you will always be famous

7. josh o'connor. how do you do it

8. blood orange during the almost threesome was so good. i need to know who is responsible for this

9. the non-chronological storytelling got kind of cheap for me at the end. it kinda did a disservice to the movie because it made it hinge on a bunch of big reveals we all had guessed a while ago so quite unnecessary in my opinion (and yes i know the back and forth is supposed to mirror a tennis match but to me this is style over substance and not in an interesting or original way)

10. all in all this is a fun movie but not quite all it's made out to be.....i think it could've been stellar if we'd had a real trio and a real presence at the center of the movie which i don't think zendaya can be quite yet!!! but ykw. we let keanu do it twenty years ago and we're letting john david washington do it now so zendaya should be allowed to as well!

#i'm being annoying on main but this is simply too important not to post #and i want to know what you guys think #challengers

[ask-irisstar]

A fluff sanji x reader story where sanji is having a hard time falling asleep (perchance to his odd sleeping schedule.) and Reader helps him go to bed??

Helping Sanji go to sleep

AN: *takes a deep breath* Ok so... My inbox already has like 5 Sanji asks and this one really caught my eye. I think this is SUPER cute so thanks anon for requesting!! I might be slow in answering asks because of exam period and I have a BIG performance coming on 2 May. However, I'll try my best!!

Notes: Fluff, Sanji x GN reader, Fluff, SFW, quite short I'm sorry, Brook and reader are besties, Reader steals from Zoro, Sanji being a jealous idiot

You couldn't help but feel Sanji tossing and turning in bed beside you. Getting annoyed with your lover's actions, you turned to face him with a light scowl on your face. However, it immediately disappears when your eyes met with sleepy blue eyes. Your blonde boyfriend is exhausted, but according to how restless he is, he can't fall asleep. Gently, you slowly cupped his tired face.

"Baby... You've been tossing for hours... Is something wrong?" You asked, fingers tracing his eye bags.

Sanji shook his head and took your hands, "No dear... I'm fine... Just can't sleep..." He admits, voice laced with drowsiness.

You felt bad for the man beside you. So sleepy, yet can't sleep. Whenever you felt restless and sleepless, Sanji is always there to help you go to sleep. Now, seeing that he is the one that needs help, you didn't hesitate to do so.

"C'mon, follow me to the kitchen... I know something that might help..." You say, taking his hand and dragging a tired Sanji out of bed.

Reluctantly, Sanji obeyed, following you to the only place on the ship he has authority over. In the kitchen, you poured some milk into a glass and slide it over to him. Sanji caught the glass with ease and shot you a questioning look.

"Drink it... It'll help make you sleepy..." You say, smiling gently at your lover.

Sanji stares at you suspiciously for a beat before chugging down the milk. When he's done, you both went to bed and see whether it works. Unfortunately, it didn't work. However, you aren't out of ideas yet. It was a chilly night today and the blanket you two shared is small and thin. You sneakily snuck into Zoro's room and stole his blanket. He's on night watch today so he won't mind. The worst that could happen is that he and Sanji will fight about it the next day. You went back into the room and threw the big green blanket over the two of you. And to sweeten things up, you cuddled near Sanji, providing extra warmth.

However, despite being so cozy and warm, Sanji still couldn't fall asleep. You both were desperate now. Everything you tried didn't work. You tried tiring him out by doing some midnight training, a hot shower, a quick snack, EVERYTHING. And yet, the blonde haired cook still couldn't sleep.

"Give it up Y/N... This useless... Go to sleep... I don't want you tired tomorrow because of me... Besides, we have a long day tomorrow..." Sanji said pushing you back into bed despite your resistence.

"No Sanji, I'm not sleeping until I know you are asleep beside me..." You reply, sitting back up.

Sanji sighs, "But we tried everything mon amour..."

You smirk slyly, "Not everything..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"NO! There is NO way I'm letting that perverted skeleton into our room!" yelled Sanji, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

You rolled your eyes. You and Brook are best friends and nothing more. Yet, Sanji still gets jealous.

"Trust me Sanji, this will help you..." You pleaded, making puppy eyes.

Sanji groans, but relents, "Fine, but if that skeleton so much stares at you, I'm kicking him..."

When Brook enters your bedroom, you requested him to play some soothing music on his violin. He compiles and plays a melodic tune to help Sanji fall asleep. Almost immediately, Sanji's eyes grew heavy. You grab him by the shoulder and pulled him into bed beside you.

"Sleep baby..." You whisper into his ear, tracing random patterns onto his back.

"I love you mon amour... Good night...."

Those were the last things you heard from Sanji before snores came from him. You smiled and snuggled closer to the blonde.

"Good night babe..."

And with that, you two fell into a deep slumber, Brook's soothing music playing in the background.

______________________________________________________________

And that's a wrap! Hope you enjoy this anon! Please sent in any more request you have! You can even request other characters! I'm going to go work on my other Sanji asks now!

Link to the song Brook is playing:

#one piece x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x you #one piece sanji x reader #fluff #sfw #one piece fluff #im not great with tags #one piece #oneshot #irisstar answers #helping Sanji to sleep #jealous sanji #my first request #I love you anon

[pocketramblr]

I don't know if you're still doing it, but an AU where Gran Torino raises Kotaro.

1- as Shih put it, Sorahiko's an all-or-nothing guy. Nana tells him that Kotaro isn't safe anywhere near her, that she can't handle losing her son to AfO. Sorahiko nods, and asks if he should hide the boy, or go with him. Nana asks him to stay with Kotaro, and cries a lot. Sorahiko holds her, and then goes inside to tell Kotaro that he's going with him, and needs to pack up, and tell his mother goodbye.

2- Kotaro Yamada is raised in a strange way. Sorahiko can't cook any better than his mother could, but he doesn't try anymore. He knows Sorahiko used to be a hero, like his mother, but when he asks all the man tells him is he got his license because he just wanted to use his quirk, and now he keeps it in case whoever is after his mother comes for the boy. And oh, is Kotaro conflicted about his mother- he certainly can't say a bad word about her in Sorahiko's earshot. He knows she loves him, and is likely going to die trying to protect him from something. But he doesn't like it. *Yamada is just a common name, since Sorahiko is sure that AfO would know to look out for any Shimuras or Torinos.

3- When Kotaro is twelve years old, Sorahiko gets a call from a phone number he hasn't in years. He answers it, and there's a young voice on the other side, rough from tears, saying that Shimura-sensei told him to call the number after she died. Sorahiko knows this means Nana needs something else from him- the last thing she needs from him. But he has to help the first way too. So, he sneaks to UA during the day, and trains Toshinori while Kotaro is at school- Toshinori is excused for personal training, for "meetings with the school counselor after losing his teacher", and makes up classwork in the evenings after Sorahiko leaves. Toshinori stays in an altered apartment in one of the fake cities on UA grounds, alone when he isn't training. When Toshinori once tells Sorahiko that Nana was like his mother, Sorahiko asks quietly if Nana ever told him about her son. Toshinori just says she lost him, a bit of sadness in her heart no matter how she smiled or spoke of romantic dreams. Sorahiko tells him (Toshinori) that it's his (Sorahiko's) fault Nana never saw her son again, and that he's going to train Toshinori to make sure he can kill AfO, not the other way around. Which means he needs to leave the country. The last training session the day before graduation is the last time Sorahiko speaks to Toshinori for decades. And it will not be Toshinori reaching out.

4- Kotaro goes to high school, then university. He becomes an architect. He falls in love. He's surprised when Sorahiko is happy to hear this- weren't they both hurt so much by Nana? Isn't that why Sorahiko closed himself off from anyone but Kotaro? But he's encouraged. He marries Nao, builds a house for her and her parents and him and his. Eventually, they have a little girl, Hana. She looks so much like Nana. Sorahiko and Kotaro never say this fact outloud.

5- Eventually, AfO finds Kotaro. Hana is eight, too old for him to spark a quirk awakening in her without suspicion. But with enough eavesdropping quirks he hears that Kotaro and Nao are considering another child, so he starts setting up coincidences to nudge them along the line. When Tenko is born, four years later than in canon btw, AfO moves. Hana sits down at the dinner table, and when she touches her mother's arm, the woman turns to dust. Everyone starts screaming- except Sorahiko, who moves. He grabs Hana and breaks the window to the backyard, leaves Hana floating above the grass in terror, her jacket falling to dust as she hugs herself. Then he goes back, and grabs baby Tenko. He looks up to see Kotaro, covered in Nao's blood, looking to the front door, that also fell apart. A tall man stands behind it, reaching out a hand to the wall. Kotaro looks back at Sorahiko and tells him to go with the kids, now. Sorahiko breaks into Might Tower about half an hour later, with a child and a baby, and tells All Might these are Nana's grandkids, and he needs All Might to arrange tickets to I-island for the three of them, as quickly as he can while keeping it secret. He leaves a report in a file behind them. Toshinori only tells David to protect them, and Dave does. The baby's a year younger than Melissa, he has to help. Over a decade later, he finds that Hana's headaches seem to be from stress for her two quirks, the sort of opposite problem with Toshinori's decreasing power. But maybe he can build something to help- Melissa the engineer and Tenko the programmer are eager to help too, anyway they can. Sorahiko, feeling as useless as he always has, thanks them.

#pocket talks to people #anon #ask game #fine. i'll let the dual quirk thing hurt people in one au. because maybe they can stop it

[helluvaloverx3]

nsfw twt links for johnny “slaughter” sawyer

A/N: if the link doesn’t work USUALLY if you sign in into twt in the link it works, just a heads up.

1

the way johnny would use your body as his own personal pussy-selve. his hands gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises, using his strength to drag your pussy up and down his cock. his rugged couch in his shack creaking under the weight of his pounding, threatening to break under the pressure.

“Keep your noise down, don’t want Nancy and em’ hearin’ us, do we?”

2

now that you’ve grown accustom to the routine— him coming home from a ‘hunt’ and you’re done with your chores— it was time for you to please his cock. His hand wrapping around your hair and forcing you to bounce on his length, whether it hurt or not. His other hand is too busy playing with your tit as you bounced, his eyes lingering on the jiggling fat of your ass slamming on his abdomen.

“there ya go, baby girl— fuckkk— keep doin’ ya you’re doin’… if ya know that’s best for you.”

3

in the past, when he first caught you hiding in his shack while the rest of the family chased your friends, he had better plans in mind for you. After all, the way you arched and backed your ass up on his cock was well enough information to tell him you were enjoying every inch of him. his hands tugged at the rope as he pounding into you from behind. he liked how loud were moaning, too bad your friends were having a bad time…

“Heh, who know you’d be such a good slut? I’d imagine chu’ would have fought against the ropes… I’m keepin’ you~”

4

do i need to elaborate? he’s obsessed with having power over you. he already has your lipstick smeared all over his lips and cheeks from making out and grinding through your clothes on his couch… but it doesn’t stop him from pushing you down on it, half your body bouncing on the cushions and under his thighs, pinning you in place. his cock casts a shadow on your face, you stick your tongue out for him. a grin spreads across his face as his slaps his length against your tongue, stroking it against your lips…

“good girl, keep your mouth open for me, fuckin’— baby— mmm…”

5

oh… but when you finally helped kill someone with johnny? ooo, that night was different. his hands grip your ass cheeks as you lay on your stomach. that shit-eating grin lined his face, reminiscing on how you jumped in and actually killed someone that tried to hurt him… you helped. you helped provide for the family, his mother accepts you now. everything was okay now. he goes lower and his big, broad hands grip your hips pulling you close as his tongue pushes between your thighs. his tongue was relentless— he pulls back and cuddles your hips, leaving kisses along your skin.

“sweetheart, baby, i’m so lucky to have you… you’re mine…”

#johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer fanfic #johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter fanfic #johnny slaughter x reader #johnnysawyer #johnnyslaughter #johnny (texas chainsaw massacre) #tcmgame #x reader #johnny slaughter smut #tcm johnny #johnny tcm

[asarajaa]

OKAY. MEETING BACHIRAS MOM FOR THE FIRST TIME. 🤭🤭🤭

(no pressure if you don’t want to do it ofc bbg<3 )

Ofc bb but have patience, I’m a little bit down cause I didn’t like at all my last post so yk 😭✋🏽

Omg I’m so dumb, I answered it without the fic made HAHAJJAJAJA, when I got it I’ll put it here and I’ll tell ya, k love? Have some paciencia 😽💗

Update: k so I already did it so here you go my love, hope you like it <3!

Warnings: fem!reader Words: 656 Disclaimer: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings! Taglist: @merlucide

Meeting Bachiras mom for the first time

₊˚ෆ To help me with this, I will pretend it is the second part of the Bachira falling in love hcs.

₊˚ෆ Indeed, his mom liked you.

₊˚ෆ First of all, when Bachira got home and told her mom about you, she was super enthusiastic to meet you!

₊˚ෆ After Bachira made a move and you guys become boyfriend and girlfriend, the next step was meeting each others parents, being Bachira the first.

₊˚ෆ When the time came, you were extremely nervous, Bachira tried everything to make you feel less nervous but obviously it didn't work.

₊˚ෆ You wanted to everything go great. Your friends always says that is like having a second family and that creating a bond with his mom is important bc she's gonna be like a second mom to you.

₊˚ෆ You made yourself a list of 5 rules to follow when you meet his mom (which made Bachira laugh at you because- babe, my mom is super chill you don't need to do those things.)

₊˚ෆ Rule number 1: Do not show empty handed. It doesn't matter if you give her flowers, some dessert or a gift, Bachiras mom will appreciate it and think that you're a very nice and sweet girl. She's the type of person who appreciates the small things so giving smth to her will be perfect.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 2: Dress modestly. Look, Bachiras mom wouldn't care if you go with some jeans and a cute top, in fact, she would compliment you. But if you go dressed like if you're going to some club she would not think bad of you but neither she'll think good of you. I believe that as an artist she's very into the fashion world and if you're meeting her with a cute outfit she'll like you.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 3: Don't try to be somebody that you're not. She want to meet the person her son fall in love with, no one else. She'll like you just the way that you are! As an artist, Bachiras mom know about being judge so don't worry about those things.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 4: Always offer to clean up. Of course, she wouldn't let you, but it would be nice seeing the effort of your actions that his son never stops talking about.

₊˚ෆ Rule number 5: Try having a one on one time with her. Women to women bounds are super special so you have to use the opportunity to grow a very strong relationships. Honestly, she always wanted a daughter so just talked with her about girl things and it would be awesome!

You and Bachiras mom were left alone, she told Bachira to go to the store to buy some dessert (you bought flowers) so now you girls were alone.

"So, how did you knew you wanted to be an artist Mrs.Bachira?" you asked her enthusiastic, the dinner went awesome and you guys were having a great time.

Bachiras mom loved your question, nobody usually ask her about her profession and you were actually interested.

As the night went by, you girls ended up having a girl talk about the latest in fashion, the new tea about celebrities, skincare and make-up.

When Bachira came with the dessert, he was confused. He left you guys silent and when he come back you were sitting next to each other talking passionately about some new viral linase mask that gives a botox effect. Although he wasn't complaining either.

"Word of mouth is that the mask also works to give definition on the curly haired girls." you said showing her the video of a girl trying it.

"Really?" she said leaning to you "Bachiras cousin has curly hair, i'll show it to her."

₊˚ෆ She loved you, like she would call you some days to exchange tips and your calls last hours.

₊˚ෆ Bachira was more than happy when he find out, It seemed perfect to him that the two women in his life got along so well.

nksdhfsbfv idk what I did.

I feel like It was too short, great rules tho

28/04/24

© asarajaa — Please, do not copy, translate or reuse my work without my permission.

#sofis loves #bllk bachira #asarajas works #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #asarajas works (bllk) #bachira meguru #bllk x you #bachira x reader #blue lock bachira #bachira fluff #fanfiction

[daemonmage]

Ok one more for the night:

A small list of things I think Bruce would have in his utility belt. (This is inspired by lots of things including posts on Tumblr. Please go check out the people I mentioned.)

1. A extra cape (he will often wrap his cape around victims and then feel too bad to ask for it back so he just has an extra cape. Inspired by a Detective Comics issue.)

2. Horse biscuits shaped like bats (inspired by that tumblr post about the Trinity riding unicorns. One of the commenters noted that maybe Batman was giving the unicorn biscuits in stead of that being the unicorns name and that idea is stuck in my head. The post is by dangerousdan-dan and the comment is by raaaaaaaawr)(pls inform me if i missed an a)

3. Shark Repellent (we all know)

4. The Kryptonite Ring (we also all know)

5. Sugar free lollipops (from the Nightwing issue)

6. Glitter Smoke Bombs (Stephanie snuck those in with his regular ones)

7. Gel Pens (inspired by my own post cause I thought about it more and Bruce would absolutely use gel pens regularly just not glitter ones cause the ink feels rough after it drys and the glitter gets everywhere)

8. A Camera Baterang (from that one family photo comic)

9. Catnip and Cat Food (he leaves some out for Selina’s cats)

10. Pain Meds (for various reasons but these ones are primarily for the back pain he undoubtedly has forever after knightfall)

11. Medical Stuff of all types, yes they all have little bats on them. (This ranges from bandaids to menstrual pads. Inspired by a ditzybat post)

12. A bat recorder (just in case he needs to record any final words, for others or for himself)

#batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #dcu #dc #the batman #headcannons #dc headcanon #Batman utility belt #this was meant to be silly #utility belt #dc batman #dc bruce wayne #dc brainrot #please go check out all the people I mentioned #they’re all on tumblr