#this is the most unhinged thing I have ever dreamed up

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Introducing: The Sanrio Girlies

So this cute ass idea came to me to make readers based off the Sanrio characters and I kind of just ran with it. It turned into a whole ass little AU. I had so much fun doing this, it’s been a minute since I got lost in creating something for hours. I do have main pairings in my mind for all of them BUT they’re absolutely interchangeable. I can see them all together for different reasons. I have so much LORE about them so feel free to send me asks about this lil universe. I’ll def be posting more about them because they are my babies and I’m proud of them. Tag yourself, I’m Kuromi. (Yes I self inserted)

Kuromi Reader

Trashy Y2K emo princess. Rebellious kook whose parents never agreed with her style or life choices. Hates driving, she was born for the passenger seat. Acts super bitchy but under the surface is a die hard romantic. Has never had a day job. Kind of unhinged, she will slash your tires if you do her wrong. Halloween obsessed. Has an OnlyFans. Reads romance novels in her free time. Spoiled brat. Has a tramp stamp. She’s the friend that says she’s “really not going to get that drunk tonight” but ends up getting dragged out of the party because she’s more wasted than everyone else, trying to fight people twice her size. In my AU she is Rafe’s girl but I could also see her and Jj being together.

My Melody Reader

Cute lil bimbo core baddie. Kook but spends all her time with the pouges. She grew up with rich her grandma who taught her everything about baking, sewing, and being a lady. Shops till she drops. Total empath. She loves doing things and buying things for the people she loves. The sweetest person you’ll ever meet until you mess with someone she cares about. Loves all things pink. Extremely smart despite her outward appearance. Neat and tidy. She thinks she’s responsible but she goes shopping at least twice a week, doesn’t have a job, and party’s every weekend. In my AU she is John B’s girl But I could also see her being with Rafe.

Batz Maru Reader

Total grungy tomboy. Pouge. Super sarcastic. Has a bunch of tiny little tattoos. Loves horror movies. Skates. Plays video games. She has hardcore mommy issues but has a bad ass metal head dad who owns an auto shop where she works. She’s always up to no good. If it’s not spray painting her literal name on shit and skateboarding on private property, it’s getting stoned out of her mind and blasting music so loud the whole neighborhood hears it. She’ll never tell anyone she has pink lingerie under all of that either. Batz is 100% Jj’s girl but I could also see her being with John B.

Keroppi Reader

She’s a multifaceted girlie. She’s a total boho beach bum but even when she’s on the beach she’s studying. Sporty. Played almost every sport in high school and was always the top of her class. Pouge. Total yogi. Going to school to be a veterinarian. Kind of a health nut, watches what she eats all week but let’s lose on the weekends with the girlies. Down to earth lover girl. She’s always there to listen when you need her and gives the best advice. Even if she is a little blunt about it. In my AU she is Pope’s Girl but I could also she her being with John B.

Cinnamon Roll Reader

Coquette soft girl. Shy and quiet until you get to know her. Professional Ballerina. Loves baby blue so much it’s part of her personality at this point. Kook. She grew up spoiled and sheltered so she’s a little clueless sometimes. Definitely has a planner and a strict daily routine. Loves to snack even though her ballet instructor tells her not to. Self care queen. Cry baby. Spends most of her time practicing for recitals and day dreaming. Cinna is kind of a wild card, I couldn’t decide who to pair her with, my first instinct is to make her Rafe’s girl but I could also see her and Jj being a polar opposite couple that balance each other out.

#rafe Cameron x reader #rafe Cameron concepts #outer banks blurb #Jj maybank x reader #jj maybank concept #rafe cameron blurb #pope x reader #Pope Hayward concepts #john b routledge #john b x reader #John b concepts #John b blurb #rafe Cameron #jj maybank #Sanrio!Readers #Sanrio!Girlies

[theghostparty]

Roméo et Juliette: de la Haine à l'Amour - Redesign - 2024

To understand my completely unnecessary desire to redesign a musical that is over twenty years old, you have to understand that Romeo et Juliette is my Roman Empire. Long explanation under the break.

I wanted this design to be an homage in the silliest way possible.

I really leant into the sensibilities of original costume designer Dominique Borg, who used contemporary colour and technique and applied it to historical (or pseudo-historical) silhouettes.

Broadly, I wanted the Montagues to feel English in their shapes--Elizabethan doublets, high necklines, and ruffs, in homage to Shakespeare and the source text. They're all leather, denim, silver hardware--a little bit punk with status.

The Capulets would be deeply Italian Renaissance in their silhouettes, in reference to the setting of the play. They're all velvets, lace, chiffon, satins, and gold hardware--giving them an airiness of the Mediterranean while still allowing some drape here and there.

I wanted each family to have a slightly more broad palette than most versions afford them--which is why the Montagues have a smattering of green and magenta while the Capulets play with some soft yellows and lavenders.

The ball scene is largely Arthurian in inspiration--just because I took the idea of "what would the 1500s consider vintage and costume-y in the same way we think of the Victorian era" and ran away with it. There's also some silly Y2K nonsense because I rewatched the "On dit dans la rue" music video and thought "What if the Capulets threw this big Arthurian affair with full elegance and the Montagues cobbled together some gay club outfits circa 1998 fits out of a suit of armour."

FINALLY, I wanted Roméo and Juliette to take on elements of each other's family's style and colours for the end of the play--because to be loved is to be changed.

So here is a breakdown of my choices for each of the looks.

Un Jour: Here we see Roméo in his base look. It's a two-tone patent leather double with multiple zipper details. The peplum is criss-crossed zippers. The wings over the shoulder seams are edged with zipper teeth. The ruff detail at the neckline is also edged with zipper teeth. He has along zipper across the front of his boot like he's trying to be the next Sailor Moon. I don't know y'all. I went a little feral with trying to figure out all the places I could put zippers in.

Juliette is the most juvenile looking in Un Jour. I imagine that in this scene, she's being dressed by her family instead of her own volition.

She's in an asymmetrical, empire-waisted gown that is likely a brocaded or printed silk. Her chemise is a sheer lavender georgette or chiffon that peaks through the lacing at the shoulders and along the upper arms. She has a velvet choker and velvet belt and a heavily stoned velvet headband. Her hairstyling (it would have to be a wig, it would be NUTS to not make this a wig) is an homage to the open-weave Juliet caps that were similar to nets worn in the period on hair. Italy was, fun fact, one of the few countries where women didn't cover their hair during the renaissance.

L'amour heureux: As I explained above, Roméo's outfit is so silly. The wrap around glasses. The one arm of armour. The sheer, stoned period shirt. The gold brocade on the trousers. The pearl earring. The many, unnecessary belts. Bless this mess. It's also a cheeky little nod to Baz Lurhmann's Romeo + Juliet.

Juliette is, ostensibly, cosplaying as Guinevere or Lady Macbeth or Ophelia or any number of Middle Ages women. The ball is the Capulet's opportunity to really sell their daughter as marriage material so I wanted the look to feel bridal, hence the veil. I wanted to give reference to exaggerated surcote sleeves without actually doing them, hence the sleeve-into-glove and bow detailing with trails down to the floor. There is also a hint of yellow chemise underneath, which is actually just her Le balcon look underdressed for ease of the quick change (yes, I did think about this.) The dress is velvet with one panel of lace in-set into the underskirt. The bows are satin-face organza.

Le balcon: Romeo would change into his base again (during Le Poète). Juliette is in a simple yet totally impractical sheer chemise + slip combo. I wanted this soft yellow for this sequence because I always think about the lines "O she doth teach the torches to burn bright!" and "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?/It is the east and Juliet is the sun" when it comes to describing her. The chemise would likely be a chiffon, while the slip would be silk.

Aimer: I say this with my whole chest--I hate how they changed the palette for Aimer in the 2010 production. I want my lovers soft and angelic and matching in this moment of union. Here we see a bit more of Romeo's lace shirt--his sleeves are laced like Juliette's in the first look. His doublet, trouser, boot combo are off-white leather in homage to the original production. Juliette's dress has a similar train length to her ball look (again, bridal) and we see the neckline creep up into a ruff (Elizabethan, rather than Italian). Lots of sheer net and lace with cream bridal satin as a skirt. Tiered sleeves. A little circlet on her head.

Le poison: Honestly? Just wanted her to have another outfit change before her death dress as a transitional choice. There's so much more of the purple in this look because it's going to take us into the blue elements of the final dress.

La mort de Roméo/Juliette: Again. To be loved is to be changed. Juliette has a dropped waistline, a high neckline and ruff, and a heart shaped cut-out detail (see: boob window). She's straight up in blue, and all the sweet and soft pinks of her youth are gone. Romeo has lost his high neckline, ruff, wins, and peplum in favour of a shorter Italian silhouette. He's asymmetrical (a call-back to Juliette's asymmetry) and all the edging detail is done in red. Mantua as a setting is patchworked, torn, and dirty, so I imagine the doublet is pieced together from scraps of jersey (so it's drippy and sad and hangs off him in a lovely manner).

#romeo et juliette #damien sargue #cecilia cara #joyce draws #retj redesign 2024 #retj #this is the most unhinged thing I have ever dreamed up #anyways more to come soon #will probably do mercutio and the prince and benvolio and tybalt together as one post #did little 14 year old joyce think this is what she would STILL be talking about? nO #also if you've ever wondered what my costume design process looks like it's this

[bumblingbabooshka]

Harry Kim saying Naomi is lucky to be born on Voyager and that he would have given "anything" to have her life when he was a kid...

#He sees NO downsides???? #Also I love how Neelix was yelling and panicked and Harry was like 'haha ok buddy. Hey this little guy is ugly huh~? See ya later!' #absolutely unbothered and not the least bit curious - love him <3 #saw someone post about how they don't like 'once upon a time' bc Neelix doesn't tell Naomi right away about her mother .... bro. #c'mon. Anyway I love Neelix and him trying so hard to shield Naomi from bad things / upset bc he KNOWS how fucking painful #it is to lose a family DID make me tear up. #Also Naomi in that burned-down forest (symbolic of innocence?) was a kickass visual. Neelix telling her about his family and Naomi trying #to comfort HIM??? SHE'S SUCH A GOOD KID MAN....Neelix making her a flotter doll was also v cute #OH AND Naomi going 'I Am Borg...' and Neelix going '~??? No you're not~!!!' and Naomi giggling...added NOTHING to the #episode - as it should be!! Sometimes you've just gotta have a really cute silly moment <3 #Tuvok: [says something] / Tom: Nice bedside manner Tuvok =_= #Tuvok: [about to say the most beautiful comforting words you've ever heard one parent say to another] And I took that personally. #Love how Naomi is scared of Seven at first...girl that's your roommate. #HEHEH she starts off the series scared of her but by the end she's her little buddy and also her intern #but yeah never forget that Harry Kim can and will say the most unhinged things but so casually that no one will really clock it #NEVER forget that he says he remembers.....either being an infant or his own birth - both WILD to me #Harry Kim lowkey loves destiny and being special and the idea of 'chosen ones' and the narrative even though he will fight it all if it #harms the ones he loves #Harry: (guy from an alternate timeline who replaced the dead Naomi with the alive one from his own) That kid's living the dream <3

[hana-no-seiiki]

Interested in seeing Yun's A/B/O arc. I am very picky about my omegaverse content BUT. Idea: Alpha/Omega Batfam desperately wanting reader who is a beta, unbothered by their nonsense. They're gnawing on their enclosure as reader says, "The fuck is their problem???"

@sophiethewitch1 just to inflict more damage to your psyche 🩵

like it when you guys use my name so much huhu

YANDERE! A/B/O! BATFAM x BETA! READER

Beta Reader who is just unbothered and unwilling to care about the whole second gender hierarchy and just wants to get a normal job at Wayne Industries

But it’s literally impossible when they have Alpha! Dick as their childhood friend.

You should thank him really, he gave you a spot at your dream (totally) job. You should thank him for many things actually. You’re the only beta he ever told his hero identity to. He gave his whole heart and trust towards your irrelevant beta self. As such, you should be grateful that he asked you out right? Wrong.

Unfortunately, you were already in a relationship with Omega! Tim. Who you met after the death of your partner Beta! Jason. His omega tendencies and the fact that you were unable to fully take care of him as a mate saddened you, but sacrifices must be made for love right?

Omega! Tim who’s just so fucking obnoxious about bagging you. He leaves his scent all over your items. Warding off Alpha! Damian who had been crushing on you since forever.

Alpha! Damian who kept bullying you for being a Beta up until that fateful day Batman suddenly died(disappeared), and you were the only one that stepped up to comfort him. Sure, you didn’t know he was your tormentor (God was he thankful you couldn’t smell his arousal and pheromones going haywire when you hugged him) but you were the only person he felt safe being so vulnerable with. So un-alpha like with. You knew who Nightwing was right? You must know who he was and cared for him eitherway.

Beta! Jason who comes back with a vengeance. Cursing Joker for separating you two. Who hated you for being a beta even though he was one himself, but learnt to love you and eventually his second gender. Whose first coherent thought was to return to his mate, but is heartbroken upon the sight of his replacement.

Alpha! Batman who lurks within the shadows. He knows of his children’s obsessions, he knows you’re the final piece needed for his gamble to succeed.

You who’s unknowingly walking into the jaws of the most unhinged men on Gotham.

….

… Captured! Beta Reader who wakes up to the leering eyes of the Dark Knight. Scalpel in hand.

“It’s time to fix you.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere core #yandere batfam #batfam #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dc x reader #abo #omegaverse

[oxydiane]

sns is so fucking unhinged and nobody will ever be them i’m sorry. you start the series and it’s like oh haha look at these goofy angsty rivals! they hate each other! then sasuke dies for naruto thirty chapters in giving up his dream of revenge and naruto goes batshit insane. now you’re like ah they’re friends i guess that’s cute! and sasuke is trying to kill naruto because he’s the most important person in his life which is . ok and it becomes the driving force of everything or something. sasuke leaves and naruto dedicates the rest of his life to bringing him back and you’re still a casual fan so ur like he’s doing it for the promise right? then orochimaru says sasuke is his and naruto goes batshit insane feral homicidal (again) and after that sasuke reappears and they have ??? like five different panels dedicated to them staring at each other??? and he jumps off a mountain and hugs naruto for some reasons just to whisper some gay shit in his ear kishimoto frankly needs to be jailed drawing this and keep that best friend nonsense going. anyways. you have sasuke become a convicted terrorist to which the normal people response is “ok we need to hunt him down” and when naruto learns they’re gonna hunt him down he starts screaming crying throwing up he has a panic attack he can’t breathe he’s falling in the snow he gets on his knees and begs them to spare his BFF. after having a meltdown over the thought of sasuke dying what may possibly be the natural coping mechanism any stable person would adapt? of course realising that if sasuke dies he can die too. so he sees sasuke again and after he attempts murdering sakura twice and expresses the intent to murder kakashi he’s like. i will bear the burden of your hatred and die with you hehe and if we both die you won’t be an uchiha and i won’t be the jinchuuriki to the nine tails and we’ll be able to understand each other better in a different lifetime! WE’LL MEET AGAIN IN THE AFTERLIFE BECAUSE NOT EVEN DEATH CAN DO US PART! and sasuke (just as insane as him) doesn’t even flinch he’s like what the fuck is wrong with you but then ok let’s fuckingggf die together on my god i will kill your first anyways . then they find out they are soulmates and get cute matching tattoos on their hands and decide to fight to the death once more because sasuke is back on his i will shoulder all the hatred of the world alone and i need to kill you because i love you more than anyone else in the world actually you’re the only person i love so you need to DIE and naruto is like I WILL NOT LET YOU SHOULDER THAT HATRED ALONE I WILL FREE YOU FROM THE PAIN and they fight and despite all the whatever weapons used in the war it’s a fuckinggg fistfight in which just as sasuke is about to inflict what he thinks is the last blow says “farewell… my one and only…………………. (very long pause to accentuate how heteronormative this next word is gonna be) FRIEND” and fucking stops using his sharingan because not even then he can record the image of naruto dying especially by his hand but naruto STOPS HIM LIKE A f cHAMP and they end up blowing each other’s arms off (rip the matchies) and as they’re bleeding to the fucking death sasuke is like you’re the only person that has never tried to severe their ties with me why do you go so far for me and naruto from the depths of comphet hell is like because you’re my FRIEND and sasuke being absolutely done with this bullshit is like ok what the fuck does that mean to you then and this is where it gets even gayer and relatable because naruto is like i don’t KNOW i just know that when you hurt i hurt and i just can’t take it and isn’t that the most gay experience thing ever? naruto knows what it feels like to have friends but what he feels for sasuke is so bone deep and unconventional that he cannot make sense of it and can only describe the pain it brings. after that sasuke CRIES LIKE THEYVE GOT ME SOOO FUCKED UP but you know what got me even more fucked up?

naruto waking up bloodied and battered and half alive with one arm missing but still wondering if that was heaven because sasuke was next to him. sasuke looking so happy and peaceful when saying “i lost” as a stark contrast to him looking and feeling like half of his body was being torn apart when he “won” against naruto in vote1 and left him. the bitterness of victory vs the sweetness of losing if you will. AND HIM COMPARING WHAT HE FEELS FOR NARUTO TO PRAYING MY GODD. did i forget to mention that then we learn that Ohhh it was never a stupid shallow rivalry as we all thought! they have actually been watching each other from afar since they were little freshly traumatised children and have longed to hold each other’s hands since then! what was it sasukeeee you felt warm and fuzzy when you saw naruto to thought of it as a weakness? these two are so astronomically hopelessly desperately obsessed in love with each other it’s ridiculous i’ve had ENOUGH free me from this mental prison

#soo talks #its 4 am #this is word vomit #ignore me #naruto #naruto shitpost #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #pro sns #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #thoughts

[allieebobo]

Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)

#asks #if #IF recommendations #other IFs #interactive fiction

[avelera]

Hob Gadling - the absolute maddest of immortal lads

One of the things I love most about Hob Gadling as a character (and as a result, do my best to capture in fic) is how unique his reactions are to immortality and to Dream, and how he so often does the opposite of what one would expect from the genre of "humans granted immortality" but also what the average person and most of the audience expects that they would do with immortality, lending well to the concept that Hob is, genuinely, unhinged and a truly supernatural creature in his own right, which is often lost when the character we see him most often juxtaposed against is Dream, who is even more odd and unhinged if in very different ways

(I've decided to be systematic about this and go through meeting by meeting so strap in, folks it got long, as usual!)

1389 - First of all, Hob simply bragging at all that he doesn't plan to die. OG hipster right there, loving life before it was cool. But also, ok, loving life after being born less than a decade after the Black Plague ended. And in the midst of a great many Black Plague aftershocks! The latter half of the 1300s was a truly abysmal time to be alive, with huge social upheaval, war, plagues, "two bloody Popes fightin'" and in the midst of all this is Hob motherfuckin' Gadling, cheerfully announcing that death is for suckers and he doesn't intend to ever do it.

The man is a soldier! You'd think he'd be more accepting and philosophical about his inevitable death given the time he lives in, the profession he has chosen, the fact that most young men his age were wiped out at age 9 by the second wave of the Black Death, and just, in general, doing all of this while having the misfortune to live in England at the time.

And then when Dream comes up to him, like a complete weirdo, and challenges him on this, Hob is actually pretty nice to him! He gives him a side eye but he also goes along with the question, tells him to ignore his friend's jibes, and cheerfully accepts the wager! I cannot express to you how many turns in the road there are between what a normal person would do and what Hob Gadling does in that moment.

1489 - This one bugs me because the most unexpected thing Hob does is seemingly regress in maturity despite now being 100+ years old.

Now, I'm a huge fan of the theory that he's conning Dream right now and putting on the innocent chucklehead routine to put Dream off from kidnapping him to Faerie Land in exchange for his immortality. HOWEVER, since that's just a headcanon, let's take Hob as he is on the page!

Hob has a job. A Freaking Job. He used to be a bandit and a soldier, things that kind of make sense to do as an immortal (like The Old Guard) when you can't die! You could theoretically make BANK there just by taking dangerous jobs. But Hob doesn't?? He gets a normal-ass job, though in that day's equivalent of getting a job at Microsoft or Apple before they became big, Caxton is like one of the first modern startups in essence, a new technology that made TONS of money once it was imported, and Hob was on the ground floor. Still. HE GOT A JOB as an IMMORTAL. He doesn't seem to have this immortality thing figured out yet? And he doesn't ask Dream hardly any questions about it either! You'd think he'd be frothing at the mouth to better understand wtf happened to him, but once Dream clarifies that he's not the Devil and Hob's soul isn't in danger, that's it! No further questions, your honor! WHAT??

Also, just when you WOULD expect him to beg for death (that IS the genre savvy thing to do, Dream's not wrong!) he DOESN'T. He's more in awe than ever, he seems to be experiencing a second childhood over the fact. He's just vibing and living life. That's so, so unusual in this genre.

Hob also hasn't done any of the savvy things an immortal might do after 100 years! He doesn't actually seem all that angsty about why is he immortal, beyond a bit of fear he might need to pay the piper (Dream) now for this gift. Most vampires in an Anne Rice novel would have gone through about 20 stages of grief after they dealt with the first 100 years of everyone they know and love dying but Hob seems to not only be unbothered but actively gearing up for the next century. It's so bizarre. IT'S SO BIZARRE and I love it because I LOVE characters who DON'T do what you'd expect!

1589 - Hob has a family. HOB HAS A FAMILY. Who in their right MIND would start a family, knowing you'd have to bury your spouse and your children? HOB MOTHERFUCKING GADLING that's who! It's incomprehensible! He does it anyway! It's why I headcanon that he planned to support and nurture his family throughout time, like it was all very deliberate to found a dynasty, but it need not be! Knowing him, he just saw a pretty girl and married her! He didn't even CONSIDER his own wife and children getting angry and jealous with him for having immortality he can't share with them? He didn't even CONSIDER the heartbreak?? WHAT?! Who knows! He just did!

Now, this Hob HAS begun to do SOME of the things one would expect of an immortal - like build up generational wealth, BUT he has a KNIGHTHOOD. What immortal in their right MIND would draw that sort of attention to themselves?? HOB, THAT'S WHO. What are you ON, man, that's INSANE! No wonder he got drowned as a witch the man had ZERO CAUTION AT ALL.

1689 - the man is destitute. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN IF YOU'RE AN IMMORTAL? This is AS puzzling as anything else. Theoretically, Hob could just take a dangerous job with a high fatality rate for quick cash and rebuild his fortune pretty quickly, but he DOESN'T. What went wrong? The possibilities are tantalizing and painfully human that maybe he did do that and failed anyway, or hit even WORSE strings of truly abysmal bad luck.

But somehow, at 300 YEARS OLD it's not until 1789 that we hear Hob has begun socking money away for a rainy day! How does it TAKE YOU that long, sir?? How is that NOT something you figure out in your first century? I've seen a lot of fan writers ascribe a certain amount of immortal savvy to Hob but it's REALLY not there on the page! The guy is NOT genre savvy about immortality AT ALL he doesn't do ANY of the things one would expect, it's absolutely WILD that he falls this low after 300 years after completely failing to, theoretically, CONSIDER this possibility! And then, AND THEN, the guy STILL wants to live. I mean, this one hardly needs saying, that's nuts after what he went through, it's on the page that he's NUTS for this. But the guy is literally in the gutter dreaming of the stars, he is unstoppable I love him so fucking much what a force of nature.

1789 - OK, we've already mentioned that it took until 1789 for Hob to start saving money for a rainy day but let's talk about the fact HE'S NOT ACTUALLY CAREFUL ABOUT BEING CAPTURED?? Again, least genre savvy immortal EVER. You can't die so you'd THINK that being captured or imprisoned or god forbid, thrown down a mine shaft would be the SCARIEST possible fates when you don't have death as an escape, but the guy doesn't even blink at the thought of getting captured by an occultist like Johanna Constantine, dude's totally unbothered! DREAM has to tell him after 400 YEARS that maybe he should be worried about this? THE GUY GOT DROWNED AS A WITCH, picked himself up, dusted himself off, got into some crimes against humanity, and MOVED ON apparently without learning a single goddamn lesson he hasn't had since 1389 which is how to kick ass and look good doing it BUT HE'S NOT EVEN A PROFESSIONAL FIGHTER AS A CAREER, he's just a gentleman of means!

He just... lives a normal human life and seems to expect weird things like being kidnapped by occultists to not happen so long as he stays within those boundaries and you know what? IT SEEMS TO HAVE WORKED! Because to be fair, how many of us outside the bounds of fiction would ever expect the wild stuff like kidnapping to really happen? It's statistically quite vanishingly rare! And that's been all Hob has needed, presumably, to not need to stress since the damn witch trials about his immortality! So yeah, I read fic where Hob is like this very savvy immortal but by 400 YEARS he's BARELY learned to have a savings account under a different name and he STILL doesn't seem too bothered by the possibility of getting hurt or captured! Like, AT ALL?! Absolutely class act right here, top lad, unbelievable, no notes. HOW do you SURVIVE like this as an anomaly, Hob?

1889 - By now, it SEEMS like Hob has bought a clue. He's pretty understated, he's made some amends, SEEMS to have resolved to be less of a shithead, and he's got this immortality thing figured out. It only took him 500 FUCKING YEARS. But again, Hob ISN'T fabulously wealthy as far as we can tell. He's not a megalomaniac and he STILL seems to be vibin' as just a dude doing Just A Dude things like HAVING A JOB and if we borrow from Hob's Leviathan a bit, he's STILL just jumping between industries, just living life down at the normal human level. He hasn't detached from humanity, he lives in the day to day on a level that's just INCONCEIVABLE for a being that's 500 years old.

1989 - Ok, moving on a bit from Hob being an immortal, because getting excited about technology like his brick phone is absolutely so charming I want to squish his cheeks, but he's hardly the only immortal to get excited about that. What I want to talk about is how HOB FORGIVES DREAM for 1889. Because, look, Dream is a prick there. Hob could have been more diplomatic but Dream could have waited for the apology and he didn't.

I have seen SO MANY TAKES where Hob would be MAD after 1889 and RIGHTFULLY SO. But he's NOT. He's not! There are so many fics where he has lingering hurt over it but that's just NOT what the character does! He blames himself! Guy did pretty much nothing wrong except maybe choose his words poorly, but he's blaming HIMSELF for making Dream uncomfortable. Absolute legend. Saints have nothing on this man, that is saint-like behavior. I'd be furious. Hob just misses his friend and BLAMES HIMSELF that Dream isn't there. Not an a single, microscopic trace of anger in sight.

2022 - And then, AND THEN, when he has EVERY REASON to flip out when Dream shows up, finally, after 133 YEARS, after Hob has APPARENTLY stuck around the area just in case, WAITING for him, what does this fucking legend say? "You're late."

THAT'S IT! He's not mad, he totally has a right to be! He doesn't jump out of his chair in shock, that would be a totally expected reaction to! He glances up! He acts like Dream is 5 minutes late instead of over a century WHAT IS THAT?? WHAT IS THAT?! HOW?!! They just settle back with a pint after that like it's nothing. That's not what I would do. I don't think that's what almost any human would do after a shock like that. I still can't wrap my head around it.

So anyway, Hob Gadling, absolutely FASCINATING character from the perspective of just not doing a single fucking thing you'd expect an immortal Just A Dude to do. Goddamn legend right there. Worth remembering for those like me who are obsessed enough to write this guy in fic. He is just so... opposite of everything you'd expect and that is so fucking sexy of him wow

#hob gadling #the sandman #sandman meta #dreamling

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

#fic rec #dark fic #dark!clark kent #dark!peter parker #dark!steve rogers #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!morpheus #dark!curtis everett #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!daemon targaryen #dark!bruce wayne #dark!bakugou #dark!ransom drysdale #x reader

[rhondafromhr]

I normally don’t like social media/youtuber AUs but I just came up with a really unhinged one that I feel compelled to subject y’all to.

So, Stephanie’s a podcast girlie. She started one to rebel against the constant pressure to stay out of the public eye and not do anything to make her dad look bad by saying a bunch of things she know will enrage the public (like “peanuts the pocket squirrel is overrated”) and having controversial guests. As it took off, she really started to enjoy the financial independence and attention/validation it brought her, eventually moving to LA to do it full-time.

Grace has a fundamentalist channel (not unlike Girl Defined) where she basically just spouts purity culture bullshit. She’s controversial and while she does have a decent amount of people following her unironically, most of her views are hate watches and she gets a lot of her engagement from commentary channels dunking on her. One of those channels is run by none other than Peter Spankoffski - most of his content is nerdy/science based stuff and that’s his real passion, but he needs to make rent and the videos about Grace are what get views and money.

Stephanie decides that having them both on her podcast would make for one hell of an episode and they agree to do it. She asks questions she knows will get them riled up and cause arguments. It escalates to an all-out screaming match at some points, but the second the cameras are off Grace completely switches up, just totally calm and unbothered. Then she hits on Stephanie, which really confuses the other two. It turns out she’s a grifter - she hasn’t bought into the things she preaches on her channel in a long time, but she keeps it up for the money and because she’s been doing it for so long she doesn’t know what else she would do. Steph and Pete both get it so they’re just like “oh, cool, respect.” Pete invites them to a party hosted by his friend Ruth - an aspiring actress and popular lifestyle vlogger. Her real dream is live theater, but she has a lot of anxiety and she’s way more comfortable talking to a camera and posting online than performing in front of a crowd. The few roles she has gotten have been less about her talent and more about using her following to sell tickets, which is a big insecurity of hers.

At the party, they run into Max, who has one of those awful prank channels where he’s an absolute menace to the public and Richie, his camera man (they met and became unlikely friends in college. They started the channel when Max got an injury that kept him from playing football and had a crisis over what to do with his life). Richie can’t believe this is what he’s using his film degree for and he constantly tries to get Max to pivot to more serious content. The six all get to talking and realize they all grew up in Hatchetfield (Max went to Sycamore in this universe. He was still a literal monster and bullied everyone there, but Hatchetfield High was safe). They talk for hours about all the strange occurrences they noticed back home and the fact that they all suspect some sinister, supernatural forces are at work there. Eventually, they decide to travel back there, investigate and exploit their findings for content in the most epic collab the world’s ever seen.

#npmd #nerdy prudes must die #I just love making them worse people #stephanie lauter #ruth fleming #grace chasity #peter spankoffski #max jagerman #richie lipschitz

[hwaightme]

GUY.exe

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

✏️ pairing: yunho x gn!reader ✏️ genre: fluff, crack, friends? to lovers, drawing? to lover ✏️ summary: you never expected for the character you designed for the newest dating simulator to be quite as realistic as this ✏️ wordcount: 5.0k ✏️ warnings/tags: questionable editing, unhinged crack galore, fever dream, digital artist / designer reader, shy boy best friend yunho, lowkey referencing the song the fic is named after (GUY.exe by SUP3RFRUIT) ✏️ taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ ✏️ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE MY NADIA @justhere4kpop !!! you are the kindest, funniest, sweetest person ever, i love you so so much and i am so grateful for every day because it means i can spend it with you <3 wishing you the best day, all the most amazing things, experiences, achievements and more!!

Another hour more, and you were going to scream. Hunched over your drawing tablet with bloodshot eyes and a cramping hand, you had been drawing and redrawing what seemed to be the same thing over and over again. But nothing gave you that magical feeling of completion and rightness when the abstract lines and shapes and shadows and doodles all came together on a page to form one whole. What you were experiencing was, in fact, very much the opposite. All because of these damn dumb brown doe eyes that you had decided to give to the character. Of course. What other eyes could the golden retriever type have, right? What other kinds of eyes would your boss approve of for the established archetype, the persona that you had ideated, storyboarded and proposed not only in front of your immediate team but also to senior management? That was right. None. No other. Only these doe eyes that you had been staring at and cursing profusely for the last four hours after having promised yourself that you would try to get to bed at ten in the evening instead of the less-than encouraging past midnight madness. But who were you kidding? 

Setting down the pen, you leaned back to stretch, hearing random joints crack and echo around your body, making you wonder if you have even been moving at all for the past few weeks. Having the opportunity to work from home during fast-paced sprints was, of course, a big benefit, but all too often for you, it also meant only ever walking from your home office to your kitchen and back, with the occasional bathroom break and a flop onto the armchair you had dragged into your office for designated social media scrolling time. Gone from the world, with your friends having nicknamed you an e-hermit in not one, but two separate chats. Zoned out and barely hanging onto the words spewed by your superiors, much like the rest of your fellow designers working on this same project, be it other characters, setting, clothing customisation options, accessories, or special items… as the main project lead, boss of the bosses had said: ‘whatever the user wishes for, should be there’. Who knew that a dating simulator could be that intense and demanding? 

Your drawing tablet was glaring at you, and so were the eyes on its screen, doubled onto your monitor watching your every movement like a painting at a museum would. They were meant to be kind and loving, crafted to complete the sunshine that this character was supposed to be, but the slightest misses in the lines were throwing the image off-kilter, and you could not pinpoint what was wrong. Reaching out for the now lukewarm cup of coffee off to the side of your desk, narrowly avoiding the clutter of sketches and notes you had made, you heaved a sigh, pondering if it would be the wisest to simply resign yourself to abandoning the task for today, and pick it up at work tomorrow. It was not like you would be punished for having the eyes be slightly off during an update meeting, after all, this was an ongoing process. But the perfectionist part of you was not letting go. You had managed to ideally depict everything else - the toned, tall physique with the stunning waist, torso and broad shoulders, the cheeks that made you feel a strong cute aggression, the tousled locks that could then be customised by a player’s colour preference, every other feature of the face that screamed ‘handsome’ and ‘appealing’... you did it all, and you would not be yourself if you could not overcome this little blip.

“One more try…” you whispered to yourself and searched for the file on your computer that contained a user story and profile of the character you had been agonising over. 

One click, another, and the document was up on the screen, revealing an initial concept sketch that you had made when you first proposed the man as a possible love interest for the main character in the simulator, as well as any facts about him, now being even further developed by the story-writers. Page after page, update after update the character in some ways felt more real than you, especially in your current deflated state. A gentleman, a sentimental soul, with what your colleague had called ‘four-dimensional’ traits and overall a funny, adorable sweetheart who at the click of a finger can turn into the sexiest man alive. There was nothing you did not like - aside from some details here and there that you were not sure who added but they had been approved so you had to deal with it, and that was problematic for your work since it meant that you were in the permanent state of wanting to do the character justice. You scrolled back up, starting at the brief, staring at the name as if it wasn’t already imprinted in your mind. Jeong Yunho. 

The dance instructor and choreographer. The talented and hardworking man who the main character would meet third, on her eighth day in Seoul. Born on the twenty-third of March nineteen ninety-nine in the city of Gwangju, moving to Seoul to chase his dreams and fight for them. Special talents… skills… favourite phrases… preferences… key memories… you read on, re-absorbing the details and rearranging them on imaginary shelves, trying to make sense of the information in the context of character design. How were you going to depict all of this in a pair of eyes? A part of you was confident that you were overthinking - actually, you definitely were. Not a single other designer was on Yunho's creation, and developers were going to look at him not as a persona, as a representation of a being that had become real in your mind, but as a task to execute, lines of code to make him move in predetermined ways, make him talks in predetermined ways, smile… yes, you were excited to see him be just that bit more alive, but at the same time, you were afraid of that moment - it would be right then that the world you had subconsciously built for you and him alone would be shattered, and your daydreams dispelled, maybe even crushed. So, getting the eyes perfect right now was the least you could do. At least your Yunho would be perfect.

Swearing under your breath, you picked up the pen once more and twirled it once around your fingers. His personality was fresh on your mind, heart racing, you could almost imagine him in front of you. With a final nod of encouragement, you dived back in, with more vigour and motivation than before, determined to get Yunho right, and to depict him how he truly was, how you knew he should be. The time ticked past, and so did the layers of doubt. Erasing themselves along with strokes of the digital brushes that dissatisfied you, you were unveiling the true character, and with a light heart, a smile on your face and a saved file, leaned onto your desk and rested your head on your crossed arms, just for a quick break to relish in the fact that you finally achieved the look that you had been searching for…

“Hey, good morning you worker bee, what did I tell you about sleeping at your desk?”

You never thought you could yell, right after waking up, as loud as you did at that moment. Jolting up from your seat, forgetting all the papers, equipment and stationery that was strewn about on the table on which you had been dozing, you bolted away from the source of the voice. It had resounded far too close to you for comfort, belonged to no one whom you knew, and was dangerously sweet and slightly lower-set. Pleasant. But who the hell was in your apartment and how did they break in when you almost always double-locked your door? After building up a bit of distance, you finally looked up and rubbed the last bits of sleep from your eyes. The figure was lean, toned, considerably tall, perhaps even very tall, definitely a man, with dark hair and a face that was a bit too similar to-

Jeong Yunho. Jaw-dropping, you darted back to your tablet and computer, practically shaking the mouse, forcing the entire digital system to begrudgingly awaken at your command. You searched everywhere. The open file, others, older versions… nothing. No luck in finding what you had been working on. It was as if the Yunho you had been spending weeks developing had never existed, and all that you were left with and were staring at was a blank page, and the character, no, a whole man, right in front of you, supposedly living, breathing and in your room. You stood up straight, giving the not-quite-a-stranger but still a stranger a once over, while he, confused, had an eyebrow raised and a sheepish smile on his face. He looked adorable that way. Abashed to the point of cuteness - you recalled a game developer on your team describing the planned emotional response functionality in that way; it had been a hit, and now you were seeing, in person, why. 

“Y-Yunho?” you whispered in disbelief, a hand hovering over your mouth while you were wondering whether you should officially report yourself to your boss for having succumbed to the delusions. Relief flashed over the beautiful man’s features when you mentioned his name, timidly, yes, but still, it was his name that you uttered.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s me, hey, don’t worry.”

“Y/N?” He knew your name. This was too real - a shriek erupted from what felt like the depths of your soul, and you shut your eyes, only to open them again and to see the same picture, but a little more zoomed in. He was approaching you. Code red, alert, alert, hot man of your dreams who you had been drawing all the time and were effectively being paid to thirst over was approaching you.

“Do you not remember me or something, are you okay? See I keep telling you to not sleep so late, it’s bad for you-”

“Look who’s talking, mister ‘time to text at two in the morning’,” It was a shot in the dark, a random recollection of facts that had been noted about Yunho, but that was true, since he stopped immediately, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Alright, alright, you got me. But hey, you answer me so we are in this together, right?” he countered, and winked. 

“Yeah… and I should stop drinking coffee that late, it gives me some cursed… abilities…” you concluded cryptically, though Yunho did not seem to care much about the wording, taking it as your account of how easily you had been spooked by him.

After the initial wave of ‘stranger danger’ had subsided, instead being replaced by the odd conviction that the man before you truly was just the representation of the character for the simulator, you crossed your arms and regarded him more slowly, calmly while he approached the book cabinet that was filled to the brim with manga, manhwa, figurines, dolls, action figures… effectively the best representation of what had inspired you and continued to drive you to do what you were doing in your life now. He was dressed casually, in a zip-up grey hoodie and dark grey jeans. He had taken off his shoes and was in black socks that he stuffed into a pair of slippers - so in this reality, Yunho clearly was a regular guest. Scratching the back of your head, you wondered if this was a storyline that had been updated and you were unknowingly hallucinating.

“Well, uh, if you… if you want me to come by another time I don’t mind. Whatever works best for you…”

Oh. It finally clicked in your head, and your heart fluttered. The moment was stark and aching in your mind, and you were barely able to contain yourself, the subconscious fangirl in you fully awakening. The light flush of pink on his cheeks, those damn doe eyes that were so perfect, and were now looking right at you as if you were Yunho’s entire world, it was all a telltale sign for what was to happen later, and the past disappointment at having been woken up and having no more documents to present evaporated. This was another life, it had to be. One where you did not have to worry about the endless story points, bi-weekly sprints and one deliverable after another. Only a very precious Yunho who, while toying with the sleeve of his hoodie was pondering if he was even welcome.

“Hey! No, we were planning to hang out and we are going to. Sorry, you know how work is and it got to me this time. What shall we do then? Go out, stay in?” you amplified your sociability, putting the fantastical aspect of the circumstances on the back burner for future pondering.

Laying down the pen that you had absent-mindedly grabbed for self-defence, you stepped around the desk and towards Yunho, never once breaking the visual exchange, except when his gaze darted to the floor under your intensity. You had the advantage after all, of knowledge. You could sense, and could confirm by your universe, what exactly was going to happen. He was pretending to not be affected by your closeness, looking at the cabinet again, though the tone in which he spoke was vulnerable, every bit the dream guy you were imagining all this time. You could barely resist the urge to pinch his cheek - in fact, you made a mental note to yourself to check if that was a playable option in the game or not.

“Can we… stay in?”

“Take out?” if there was something you would not quite let him do, it would be to give him full power over the kitchen. Perhaps another time, but not when the dream was so magnificent.

“You bet! I’m buying this time-”

“Yun, c’mon.”

“Technically I am still the guest.”

“You are much more than a guest-” a pause, a blur within which Yunho was attempting to pick out the meaning behind the words which you had purposefully left to be ambiguous, just to mess with him a little bit. It was too sweet, “I mean, you practically live here at this point,” he groaned and playfully rolled his eyes while continuing to tap in the order to what was for sure meant to be your favourite restaurant in the neighbourhood.

You followed him into your living room. Everything was just as you had left it. Even Yunho’s presence was beginning to feel natural, probably because it had already been pretty much just as constant as him now physically falling onto the couch and leaning back to stretch an arm out over the back of it. Hell, you had even spent some evenings sketching him in this same room. As you settled beside him, while still keeping a little bit of distance - just as friends who were feeling not quite platonic would do, you realised that indeed, you were that close. You did know him ‘since forever’, and whatever this fever dream was, you had every right to enjoy it. So upon pulling your legs onto the couch and under you, you settled in and with a soft sigh began to set up the movie you were going to watch. Just like you and Yunho would do had he been an actual interest of yours.

As the food arrived and was promptly devoured, and you were midway through the film, you found Yunho slowly but surely gravitating towards you. First, it was with an outstretched hand when he was trying to imitate a character on the screen, then with him sitting ever so slightly closer when there was supposedly a ‘spooky moment’ even though you knew full well that out of the two of you, you were the one who would not dare enter a haunted house again, and finally, under the pretence of ‘wanting to show you a funny meme on his phone’ he sat right next to you, thighs flush against each other, arm resting on the sofa right behind your head. You could not help but lean into the warmth, attracted to it, comforted. You knew Yunho inside and out, and if there was anyone who you would trust like this, it would be him. He had seen you at your worst - crying in the office bathrooms when during your early days at the company you had been humiliated by your old boss (who, thankfully, had been promptly fired), and had seen you at your best - your award-winning presentation and proof of concept for an innovative life simulation game, selected as a showpiece for the company at a major global conference. He was always there. Be it on your phone, in a sketchbook, or on your laptop - he was always there, cheering you on. There was no difference between then and now, except that now you could allow your head to rest against his broad chest, hearing the soothing beating of his heart behind the cotton fabrics, feeling how his hand dropped to trace random, intricate shapes on your shoulder while his eyes stayed glued to the television screen. 

You could sense that he was afraid to look at you, or at least of what he would think or do if he were to do so. He was warm. Very warm. Maybe too warm. You looked up, noting the adorable redness of his ears that appeared only in particular instances: either he just woke up from deep sleep which was not the case, or he had violently shaken his head and rubbed his ears - another no, or he was embarrassed and shy. Bingo. There it was. You nuzzled against him and swore you could feel his entire body stiffen. Just like when a cat makes a person ‘ the chosen one’ by lying on their lap and said person almost forgets to breathe, you nearly knocked consciousness out of Yunho, it seemed.

“What’s up?” you mumbled, noting that Yunho straightened his back, sitting in an unnatural position.

“I, uh, nothing, it’s nothing,” he responded, clearing his throat, still not daring to look to the side to face you. 

A pause. That was his character - you nodded to yourself. He had always been like this. Sympathy through the roof but when it came to his openness - he far from often strayed into that field. It would take quite a bit of coaxing, or, somehow easier, waiting for the right moment. So wait you did, comfortably resting against Yunho, insistent that he return to his previously unwinded state. Before you could snake your hand around him to pull his hood up, your friend suddenly shot up, mumbling something about it being too stuffy, or too hot, and tugged the article of clothing off.

All would be fine and dandy if he was not built how he was - and you knew it better than anyone, however strange it was to admit. After all, you had been the one to pick and sketch out his physique, knowing every muscle, curve and edge. As he fumbled with the sleeves, you took in his form, mouth agape as you saw what you had only perceived two-dimensionally, now in live action, and somehow being the one case of where the transition was impeccable if not better. If he were to turn at any moment, he would bear witness to your disturbingly dedicated scrutiny. But at the same time, what could a digital artist and designer do when a handsome man was right before them? Exactly. It was practically a duty to perceive; if not for personal interests (which you would be a liar if you were to say you did not have them), then at least for science. He looked too good in the dark grey graphic t-shirt, which, despite it being slightly oversize, did its beautiful work by revealing his perfectly toned arms. When you noticed him being in the process of turning back, you peeled your gaze away and back to the movie, not sure where in the storyline you even were, nor what the actors were saying. Patting the space next to you, you beckoned Yunho back. This time, he was calmer in his demeanour, falling back and letting you fall into him, with him, for him - and he was right there to catch you. 

Action scene after action scene turned into a blur, dialogue was static that you were not bothered to discern while you focused on Yunho’s breathing. Shallower than before, but still comforting. Who would have thought that you would be cuddling with your dream man when a mere few hours ago you were holed up behind your desk, with a cramped and stiff neck, an exhausted hand and equally tired eyes? Eyelids grew heavier, and you wondered if it would be long before you would fall asleep again, and wake up alone, as usual; a bitter smile settled on your lips when the realisation hit you, earning you a perplexed glance from Yunho and a poke in your side.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Definitely something, he turned to you, studying your every movement. The action led him to detangle himself from you, leading you to shiver a little from the lack of his body heat, “ah wait are you cold now? I- wait, here, hoodie?”

“Thanks.”

Him. In every thread. The scent of clean laundry, cotton, and fabric softener. There was something so magical in it, soothing. You wanted to float in the aroma and this moment forever. Pulling the hoodie tighter around you, you pretended to not notice the adoration that was blatantly obvious in Yunho’s expression. He watched as you pushed up the sleeves a little bit, crossed your legs and looked back at him.  Your friend, your muse and subject was nervous, and it did not need a trained professional to figure it out. The tale was climbing to a peak, and the main characters had to face it together. You waited for him, mellowness across your features as you played with one of the hoodie’s drawstrings.

Yunho looked at you, and something about the purity, and hopefulness within him made you think of the very first drawings you had made on post-its in the middle of a conference. Bored out of your mind, your mind wandered back to pondering the new project you had been assigned - the dating simulator. Idea after idea had been proposed for the characters, but not a single one stuck. Everyone was at a standstill until he came along. A breathtaking blessing, just like he was now. Silence settled like snow, only to be broken by a short hum, and Yunho taking the risk you had been wishing for.

“I… I know it has only been a few months but… I really don’t think I can be friends with you anymore, Y/N,” you tilted your head as he put his hands on his lap, fingers repeatedly messing with the material of his sweatpants - his attempt to soothe himself. You, on the other hand, were oddly calm. Simply waiting for the events to unfold and for you to embrace them with the fullest heart. While he was searching for the right words to say, you placed a hand over his, waking him from rumination. A weak smile was replaced by determination, truth spilling from his soul.

“I like you too much. Really. I would not be able to keep my distance even if I tried.”

“Well I think you are a bit too far away right now, Yun,” with a wave of boldness having washed over you, you acted on instinct, leaning towards the beautiful, infinitely precious man until he could not look away, captivated by your proximity, your glimmering eyes, your acceptance.

“Huh?” the sound was barely audible, an echo lost to the tension. You ran a finger over his jawline, instantly seeing his expression darken with another reverberating, deep sensation.

“We should seal the deal, shouldn’t we?” remaining cryptic, you inched closer and closer until you could pick apart the flicks of lighter mahogany in those stunning irises - you wanted to shake your hand for having persevered to finish them in the drawing. Truly, one of a kind.

“What-”

“Oh just kiss me already-”

That phrase you did not need to tell Yunho twice. Finally catching on, he was the first to destroy the distance between you, capturing your lips with his and letting his hand find purchase in your hair, digits running through it, caressing you, guiding you into a shared rhythm. He was as sweet as vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. An intoxicating, ecstatically overwhelming daze that consumed you whole. You saw the sketches flash before you, burning one by one to fuel the desire building for Yunho, for you, for the two of you together. It felt right, it felt real. Arms over his shoulders, you allowed him to pull you into his lap, embrace you and pepper the softest kisses on your cheeks, and your neck, finding the path back to your lips. You felt more alive than ever with the electricity coursing through your newfound intimacy. Nothing existed. This universe was Yunho, and you could not be happier. Better than in any story that you or your co-workers could develop, better than in any fairytale, the oddity transformed into eternity. This was a dream you wanted to remain in for as long as you-

Saying it was hard to wake up was an understatement. Your entire body had been aching from having fallen asleep in an awkward position over your drawing tablet, you had slept past your alarms and as such had only fifteen minutes to cram getting ready and leaving for the office, and upon checking your schedule you had the ‘pleasure’ of having three more meetings being crammed into it, reducing your lunch break to what was a near null. With a sigh, you moved away from your space, dragging your tired body to your first official interaction of the day after having sat at your desk for a couple of hours, already dreading it. The new CEO - whoever they were, was the ‘I want to know all the details and be one with the teams’ type, how joyful, you wondered how long that would last. 

It was hard to find the motivation, especially after a dream such as yours. It kept on revolving in your head, pressing down on you, making you reminisce the gentle caresses, the sweet words and actions, the delightful kiss that you had managed to just have the time to experience with Yunho. You were seeing your character in an entirely new light, already having reworked some ideas for the possible special event outfits and spammed your close colleagues who were working on the storyline with some ideas about how Yunho could have even better depth and as such, engagement from prospective users. Perhaps for this meeting with authority you just needed to tap into your delusions and it would be good enough - at least they were productive for once. 

While you were setting up the presentation, the rest of your immediate team began to file in, giving you excited waves that you returned with an unprecedented warmth. Pleasant chatter, discussion of possibility, mention of just how special it was that this dating simulator game project was the one the CEO had chosen to see today… you were feeling confident. Whoever this person was going to be, you were going to give your best and-

The door opened. Heads turned. Greetings, bows - all forms of politeness that could be expressed being delivered. People standing up, while you stood up taller by the board, the title slide behind you. You raised your head, only for time to slow down and freeze entirely. Your hold on the clicker tightened, and the only person aside from you who existed at that moment was the newcomer. The CEO. Greeting others with a smile and with equally as elegant bows. Every bit the gentleman in his tailored suit, hair swept back and impeccably styled. Jeong Yunho.

This had to be some kind of joke, right? Was this a dream? The stinging remaining after you pinched your arm slapped you back into reality. No. This Yunho was definitely real. But who was the one you-... the one you started dating? The one who you were way more than colleagues or friends with? Before your mind could accelerate into panicked rumination, his gaze stopped at you, and you could sense everyone else’s attention drift to you too. You were under his spotlight. Melting under what was nothing but kindness in his eyes.

“L/N Y/N, right? I heard a lot about you,” his grin was making you dizzy, memories of his taste resurfacing and sending heat to your cheeks, giving them a light dusting of pink.

“Good things, I hope?” you managed, he chuckled, and sent you a wink before sitting down on his chair.

“The best. I am really looking forward to this,” a playful tease.

“Glad to know this.”

“I heard you made quite a few new developments, how did that happen?” you knew what he was getting at, and that made you feel secure. So it was the same Yunho. That precious Yunho who had confessed to you, the one who had come to life and was now part of yours, by some odd twist of fate had appeared in your company, and was now right in front of you, eager and in love. You smirked while twisting to check the slide one last time, well aware that his only focus ever would be you.

“Came to me in a dream.”

✏️ perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @/justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @cromerteez @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnmepls @pyeonghongrie-main @archivesummer @little-angel-k @marsstarxhwa

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please leave a kind reblog, much love!

#kflixnet #k-labels #cromernet #hbd nadia <3 #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho x you #jeong yunho x y/n #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho fluff #jeong yunho fluff #ateez fluff #ateez au #yunho au #jeong yunho au #kpop writers #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #kpop writing

[take-everything-you-can]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

A/N: This Fandom has given me the most inspiration I've had in years and this is a thank you to every single one of you. This idea spurred from one too many drinks and unhinged DMs and I'm so excited to share it with you guys. So here goes nothing lol. A special thanks to my lady loves @lesservillain , @ghost-proofbaby , @bettyfrommars , and @bimbobaggins69 for beta reading and letting me fill your inboxes with all my little thots for our little gremlin man !

P.S : BEFORE I GET INTO ANYTHING THIS STORY IS 18+ MINORS NEED TO GTFO PLEASE AND THANK YOU !!!!! Also please remember to like and reblog from your creators It keeps the fandom alive !!! ( honestly don't know what I would do without ya'll )

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader ( Pumpkin )

Summary: A 1950's daydream of malt shop kisses and doo wop singles far behind closed doors. Dreamboat Eddie Munson picks up more than just an extra route. A love that makes you weak in the knees... but how long can you go on loving a man that isn't the one your married to.

TW: Angst- mentions of an affair (adultery), verbal abuse mentions, mentions of weight ( mentions of food within the story throughout), disordered eating, feeling unloved, self deprecation slightly, staying with toxic partner Fluff- pet names, domestic bliss, mutual pining Smut- fingering, soft touches, overstimulation slightly very slight, unprotected PIV, cream pie, spanking,..... tbh i can't think of anymore but if you see any please let me know ... Thank you all so much. ( every chapter will get updated tw)

WC: 4.1K

Flour covers the countertop in your kitchen, and a rolling pin is set to the side while you knead the soft pastry ingredients together. Apples sit freshly peeled in a separate dish. Sliced and added to sugar and cinnamon. Picking up the rolling pin, you do your best to flatten the dough to a thin sheet and mold it to the glass dish before you. 

“Well, this dough is much better than the first,” you say aloud to yourself. Your husband once told you that speaking out loud to yourself was a sign of a weak mind, you never put much stock in that. But here you were doing exactly that as your days consist of waiting for your husband to return home from work. 

You splash a bit of vanilla into the apple mixture to complete your pie filling. Once it is all tucked neatly beneath the fluffy dough, you take a knife and leave four little holes within the surface and crimp the edges together, sealing the flavors within. A touch of sugar is added to the top along with an egg wash before placing the pie on a rack in the oven. A timer is set for twenty minutes, a reminder to lower the temperature and to add your special ingredient.

Soft music plays throughout the house, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald keep you company on these long lonely days. Lonely but only for such a short time. Your husband works for the state doing something he thinks you're too dumb to understand so why talk about it? If anyone ever asks you simply say ‘Oh please you think a woman wants to know such things’. That usually earns you a laugh at cocktail parties and a warm smile from your man. If you could even call him that. 

Yes, he is your man in the sense that your last names are the same and you had shared the same bed. Where is the love though? It isn’t tangible and hasn’t been for quite some time now. Your day begins and ends with a few words apart from an I love you. You served him still, acted to the prying eyes, as a doting Wife. Four years and Everyone still thought you had a perfect life. 

That dream of white picket fences and shared milkshakes. That love of never-ending kisses and satisfying sex. Everyone around you wanted all that you had. Would they still want your life if they could see past those closed doors and shut curtains? 

Would they want to spend their mornings hiding the bags under their eyes from nights of restless sleep? Would they want to have a constant monologue of the flaws seen in the mirror? Ones that your oh-so-loving husband pointed out to you time and time again. Would they want to cook and clean knowing they would never receive a thank you? No, you knew they wouldn’t. All the small things that build and grow until it becomes a monotonous routine. Walking through days as if the next would be the exact same and then doing it all again and again, Until one day something changed. 

Two months prior A knock on the door, one that started to come once a week. The company of CC & Drums Dairy was paid to bring you a gallon of milk, A necessity your husband called it. A man with long dark locks that flowed over his shoulder and curls that dipped across his forehead under his cap. Deep Brown eyes that sparkled with flecks of amber as the sun hit him just right. Dressed in white overalls to comply with his company uniform and sleek black shoes that shine just as brightly as his smile. His name tag reads Eddie in a sweet embroidered cursive. Eddie, a name that would soon become something you would never forget. 

Your timer goes off as you check the pie, squeezing a lemon over the crust for that citrus tang. Slipping the dessert back into the oven, for another half hour or so, a knock sounds through the house, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a tizzy. Eddie had arrived.

A quick task of undoing the strings to your apron and a fast fix of hair in the mirror you had hung in the hall. A hand to your abdomen as you intake a breath and let it stagger out between your lips, hesitating to open the door. The second you see him you can feel the way the tops of your cheeks heat and plump with a smile. One that matches his.

 You take a second and wonder if he knows how handsome he is. The way the small lines beside his eyes crinkle with years of use. You wonder if he knows that the instant you see him, your heart stops beating. But most of all you wonder if you're the only one those soft eyes and long lashes catch in his gaze. 

“Afternoon darling, I must say this heat wave has got to be breaking records. Ought not keep these out here too long.” as he lifts the small crate of glass bottles holding the product out.

 You knew better than to take it from him, even if every bone in your body screamed too. The last time you tried you nearly flipped the whole crate, underestimating the weight. From that day on you always stood to the side as you let Eddie into your home to set the dairy in your kitchen. It was another thing you wondered about him. Did he do this for everyone else too?

“ Well let's not keep them then sir.” standing to the side he slides past you brushing a hand across the elbow you held to the door. His way of saying hello. Small touches here and there as he could never keep his hands to himself for too long in your presence.

“ Something smells awful delicious in her ma’am.”

“An Apple pie is in the oven, maybe you’ll stay and have a slice. For your troubles of course.” 

“Mhmm, my troubles.” Eddie sat the crate on the counter next to the ice box and turned his body towards you and enveloped you in his stronghold. An intoxicating embrace as he pulled you flush to his body. 

“ I missed you, you know that pretty girl?” soft tone, almost a whisper. A small smile he couldn't see but could feel made its way to your face. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls on your route.” he lets out a small chuckle.

“Only the breathtaking ones.” a falter to your features as your mind reeled with all the possibilities.

 Does he miss Mrs.Cunningham the way he misses you? Does he miss Ms.Buckley the same? That sick green monster finds its way under your skin as you think of all the girls he must have at his beck and call. But today that monster wasn’t going to ruin the few fleeting moments you could spend with him. You needed Eddie in the most carnal of ways.

“Do you want to know what I missed? “ Your fingers trail their way from the small of his back and up over his shoulder, landing on his neck just below his ear. Cupping his face you bring it down and catch his lips as they meet yours. 

“Oh yeah? you missed me too Pumpkin?” a second crash of your lips to his, makes him hum from the back of his throat. His nose nudges yours to the left so his teeth can catch your bottom lip, pulling back slightly to hear the small whine you emit.

“I always miss you, Eddie.”  His hands travel down over your figure as he starts to ruffle the hem of your dress up. Thankful for its length to hide how wet you had become just from him being in the home you share with your spouse. A topic you and Eddie tried to steer clear of, but the wrongness of the act just felt so right. 

Over a year your husband hadn’t touched you, barely talked to you and some days you were even sure he hadn't even looked in your direction. Eddie though, In the last two months, Eddie had made you feel seen. He made you feel heard, and most of all he made you feel desired.  

As his hand finds the thin cotton that covers your cunt he glides his digits over the wet patch that had grown by just the thought of him. A deep hum and a small huff of breath from Eddie against your neck as he kissed his way to your shoulder. 

“So wet for me and I've barely even touched you. Are you that starved for affection?” The words forming in that sweet small surrender to him were all but cut off as he slid a finger through your folds and teased your entrance. A gasp was the response he got, one he loved to hear in protest every time he had you. 

“C’mon honey tell me what you want.” how could you respond to him with words if you couldn't even think of them? The man before you had spent the last few months discovering just how to make you melt in his arms.

 He knew that the spot behind your knee was his best friend for when he had you on your back. He knew the way your hips stutter when you're close to your peak, and he knew that if your eyes found that they couldn't stay open that you were in utter bliss.

 His favorite thing he had learned throughout your time together though was that even when he knew you had your doubts, you still trusted him in every sense of the word. 

After only two months Eddie knew you better than you know yourself. Better than your husband had ever cared to know you.

“ Please, Eddie.” He smiled down at you 

“ Please What Honey?” 

“ Dip in Eddie, Fuck me please.”  He could feel the slackening of your legs as his assault on your clit had made you a bit sensitive, in his focus on making you feel as good as he possibly could, in what little time he had with you. He slid two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat as his thumb stayed in a rhythm that matched his wrist as he curled in and let the sounds of his efforts echo off the small kitchen walls. 

Moaning into Eddie's ear as his finger worked in and out of you making that heat inside of you grow higher and higher. Clutching the strap of his overalls, a small pull leaning back, as the pleasure he was giving you kept climbing. 

“ Come on now baby, let go.” A final intake of air, hold on to the breath that led you to your walls squeezing eddies fingers tight. That coil snapped as you let your body fall slack against him a loud moan from the farthest depths within you found its way out of your lungs. 

When your eyes land on Eddie after your come down all you can see is that smile. The dimple-creasing smile that kept haunting your dreams at night. 

“I need more.” You didn’t know how but his smile grew even wider and more sinister as his tone began to deepen. A kiss is pressed to your lips, not urgent, understanding. 

“ You need more? Well, it's a damn good thing that what you're asking for is in stock then Pumpkin.” He turned you around to face the small table that sat in your kitchen, knowing what he wanted from you. He wasn’t the only one taking notes from your time together. 

You braced yourself against the worn wood and clutched the sides of it as you heard the familiar clinks of metal as his rings fumbled with the buckle of his belt.  

The wait, though it is small, is brutal. Anticipation makes your stomach flip and cunt flutter. A shuffle out of his overalls gives Eddie a moment to just admire the way you listen so well. These small moments have him thanking every bad decision that got him here. To this small town, with this small job, on this small route. A route he picked up as a last resort. Yeah, he doesn't know who he's praying to but whoever is listening, he's singing grace. 

A grip in the slight pudge of your hips to keep himself steady, Eddie is gentle as he slips his cock through your folds gathering your slick over his length and breaching your desire. A deep moan and a few choice words fall from Eddie as he fills you and meets the small wavering gasp you let out, a breath you didn't know you had been holding.  A whine of impatience, his sign to move. 

A soft speed turns ravenous as his dick uses your walls to curve his hooks into you deeper and deeper. A sigh of his name and you can feel the stutter in his thrust. He slows his pace if only to keep himself from having to leave your presence all too soon.  

"Fuck darling, so good to me, taking me so well like this pussy was made for me."  You mewl from beneath him, dropping your forehead to the wood that is holding you up. You fear that if it had not been here your legs would have given up the second he started talking. "Isn't that right pumpkin? Made just for me? " A sharp thrust and you know he wants an answer in the way his grip turns bruising. A trip through your mind as you try and collect the words from thin air. 

"YES! God yes, I was made just for you." 

"Such a good girl for me baby. That's right, isn't it? You're all mine aren't you?"  Another squeeze to your hip and a smack that lands hard on your ass. Eddie's palm kneads the sting as you answer him. 

" All yours, all yours, no one else, just you baby." A grunt hum from the back of his throat as he grips your shoulder and leans so his body is flush with yours. His breath is on your neck as he leans to your ear. 

"Not even your husband, just you and me baby?" 

"Just you and me Ed's" Your eyes tunnel and you see white as your orgasm rushes through you, Eddie's own a thrust away as he moans deep against your skin. His body weight and yours against the kitchen table as you both find your way down from the clouds. 

Small kisses he leaves to your spine and the back of your neck. You turn your head and he places another small one to the upturned corner of your mouth. A bell chimes and you sit for a few seconds letting Eddie gather his own bearings. A small pat to the curve of your pussy as Eddie pulls the cotton back in place. A shock to your sensitivity.

"Keep that in there baby, that way you have a part of me while I'm gone." A heat to your cheeks as the thought of Eddie's cum dripping out of you while your husband sat across from you and read the paper over dinner. A sly smirk from the man you just let defile the small space, one you would let do ungodly things to you. 

You put on oven mitts as Eddie finds a few glasses in the cabinet. You slice into the flakey crust and slip through the filling as you place the large piece on a plate for you to share. Eddie pours milk as you find some silverware, he places the bottles in your fridge so they keep.

Turning with a smile, he is the definition of adoration. In your eyes he is everything. 

Why is it that when his time with you is coming to an end you almost wish it would end as soon as possible? Almost as if you would wish he would part with some harsh words to make you not want him in the most beautiful ways. You have to make yourself believe these things before he leaves because if you don’t, it would just shatter you. So you take a different route, you don’t shatter yourself, instead, you splinter and crack all the things that hold you until you see him again. The times where he glues those little shards back in place if only for you to break them off again and again. A scared thought and a small shake of your head trying to rid yourself of it. A married woman. What would he possibly want from you other than a good lay? 

He sees that doubt within your mind as if reading it. He takes your hand in his as he laces your fingers together. 

“ Penny for your thoughts Pumpkin?” You glance finally meeting his eyes as you clear your throat. 

“ Nothing important hun.” You slide a fork to his side of the table as your eyes dart to the clock.  He squeezes your hand once more, lowering his eyes in search of yours again. 

“It is important if it bothers you.” Your heart stops. The breath you were going to take gets caught in your throat and you turn on that winning smile you had trained yourself to hold in uncomfortable circumstances. One you wish he couldn't see through.

“ It’s nothing Eds, really.” 

“Do you promise?” you take a hand and cup his cheek.

 How do you tell him that he is your first thought in the morning and the last thought before falling asleep? How instead of counting sheep you try and count the freckles on his face by sheer memory?  How could you tell him you wish you were his one and only? That you have never felt about another human soul the way you feel about his. Instead, you stuff it down, apple pie soon to follow. 

“I Promise.”  

You know he doesn’t believe you but he would rather set out to sea and die of starvation as the sharks feed from him than to make the last moments he has with you tainted with fights and tears. God when you cry it absolutely destroys him. 

The first time you had ever let him take you in his arms you had just gotten off the phone with your husband. He had heard hushed words while he waited for you to grab the weekly tip your husband left for him. Your husband had informed you that he would not be coming home, as the fight from the night before had lingered into the morning and would now follow you well into the night. The first time you had opened the door Eddie studied the angelic features of your face, and they had plagued his dreams for such a long time at this point.

When you rounded the corner with a smudge of mascara beneath your eyes, he instantly without thinking took you in, pushing your face to his chest as his hand rested on the back of your head. Slight comfort made the tears begin again as he wiped the remainder of the smudge and irritation from your face. No man had ever done something as small as comforting you before.  In the two months since he had started this route, he knew he had instantly fallen head over heels in love with you.

You had taken two bites from the plate that sat in front of you and Eddie had finished the slice. He even went as far as to slide a finger in the crumbs on the plate and lick them off in an attempt to show you how much he had enjoyed it. His time with you. 

A gathering of glasses you brought to the sink as he brought the other dishes and sat them in the deep well while wrapping his arms around your waist and you stood eyes closed relishing in the last little bit of affection he could offer to you. 

A kiss to your shoulder as you turn your head resting it on his.

“I’ll be by in a week Pumpkin.” A nod to the fact you already knew. “ Seven days.” Another nod, not risking the crumble in your voice. “ Not long at all.”  Another small kiss to your cheek as you turned into his chest and rested your forehead on his. 

“Seven days?” 

“ Seven days Pumpkin. Do you think you can wait for me? Just seven days? “

“I think I could wait a lifetime for you Eddie.” 

“I’ll see you in a week, Mrs.Carver.”

“ A week Mr.Munson.” 

A kiss to your lips and a parting gift of his very own pie before he snuck out through the back door, so as to not raise suspicion. A slow walk from the kitchen to the door and to turn a lock, on your mind. On your hope. You could do this. You could wait seven days.

Your husband comes through the door late as he had been doing for the last year or so. You had expected it from him at this point. You had started to make his dinner later and later knowing that if you had made it too early he would tell you all the ways he couldn't eat it. If it had gone too cold he would refuse and the hard work would go directly into the trash. 

He walked in as you took his dinner off the stove and placed it on a dish for him.

“Right on time doll.”

“ I don’t know how on time it is, It’s Nearly eight in the evening, Jason!”     

“ I’m not doing this with you tonight.”  

He always did this. He would come home and you would ask him where he had been, and he’d always end the conversation before it could even begin. You sat his plate in front of him as you sat across the table from him. Times where you could really take him in and see that the feelings you had once long ago were snuffed out like a flame to a candle.

“ Are you not eating dear?” 

“ I ate a bit earlier in the day.”

“Thanks for waiting .”  He rolled his eyes and you returned the gesture. 

“ I wouldn’t have had to wait if you had just picked up the phone and told me when you were going to be on your way home. I’m not waiting until we hit a new day to eat Jason I’m not going hungry just so you-”

“ Wouldn’t harm you any though would it.” 

You left the table. Your weight had started to become a key focus as he knew it bothered you more than anything else. You had gained some weight and your mother and friends had commented on it from time to time. For your husband to tho, it made you furious. You ate when you were unhappy, it was something you had done since you were a child. The only person who thought you could stand to eat a little more had been Eddie. 

It happened slowly, you would make him food now and then, and the majority of the time He would offer you a bit. It started with a bite and progressed into cutting his sandwiches in half just so you could have something to eat. Unlike your husband, Eddie had a suspicion that you weren’t eating enough. Like you weren’t giving your body what it needed to survive so he would constantly ask for you to eat with him. At least then he would know you had something of substance within your day.  

You had gone to your bedroom and gotten out of your daily’s slowly separating them into their hampers waiting to hear the stomping footsteps of Jason as he made his way to the spare bedroom. He had taken residency there about a month before Eddie came into your life and you were thankful for the times that Eddie left you yearning for more. To call out another man's name while with your significant other no matter how insignificant they were would still bring you shame like no other.

Slipping into your nightgown as Jason shuts the door to his room you wait a few minutes to take the walk back down the stairs to stand in front of the sink. Looking up at the sky through the window above the stars seem to shine brightly. You attempt to find the little dipper and look for its companion not far from where it lays, the version of a larger size. Constellations begin to blur as you let the silent tears fall. Hoping that somewhere out there in this little old town, Eddie too is looking up at the moon and wishing you were by his side as you wished upon all the stars in the sky. What a long time seven days would be.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #milkman!eddie #eddie fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

[beronicalongcon]

MY TOP 10 RIVERDALE MOMENTS

In honor of the most gorgeous beast of a show to ever air being put in the ground tonight, here are my top 10 Riverdale moments. It was pretty impossible to make this list because I had to leave out so many beautiful things like that time Archie got forged, that time Cheryl was Queen of the Bees, and that time he was looking for the girl next door, but instead he found me.

10. JUGHEAD MEETS THE RAT KING

Sweaty, unhinged Loser-Jughead hallucinates his literary agent appearing to him as a Dark God of sewer rats. In a bid to save his life, he offers to be the Rat King's personal storyteller, like a Riverdalien Scheherazade. Betty appears to him and guides him out of the underworld and it's revealed that he was in the hospital for RABIES, which is made one billion percent funnier by the fact that rabies is 99% fatal. This made me so happy I was literally riding the high for weeks.

9. Archie boxes Hiram in the secret speakeast while Veronica sings "Daddy Lessons" by Beyonce.

This is just one of those great Riverdale musical moments - cutting between the blood spatter and bulging muscles of Archie and Hiram's furious machismo coming to fruition and Veronica dressed in gold singing about her terrible and vital love for her insane mob boss Daddykins.

8. PSYCHO KILLER PROM NIGHT

This whole plotline is great because 1. the auteur making big, clunky comic book caricatures of the main cast and having them relive their traumas through the mode of film with all the edges sanded off is metatastic, 2. Jellybean is the coolest middle schooler ever, and 3. Psycho Killer playing at Prom Night while they all dance around Mr. Honey's corpse is just objectively great television.

7. THE FOOTBALL WAR OF UZBEKISTAN

"Haha football war" shut up this is one of the most artistically cohesive and interesting sequences in the entire series. It lays bare the twisted knot of dream logic and aestheticism that governs Riverdale's universe. "Why do all the visual cues point to Archie fighting in WWI if Riverdale is set in 2021?" Because WWI was the period where America most successfully fetishized the IMAGE and AESTHETIC of young men going to war as a MASCULINE IDEAL. "Why are they fighting on a football field?" Because football is another heavily fetishized mode of expressing American masculinity and violence as heroic. "Why is Jughead there?" Because Archie loves Jughead.

6. BERONICA KISS IN OUTER SPACE

I may not like season 7 but my URL is 'beronicalongcon', and the way this episode reminds us how Betty and Veronica are historically positioned as diametrically opposed forces vying over Archie's love before bringing them together and letting them truly see each other is really nice. Also they kiss in space to symbolize that the world of the narrative by definition cannot allow women to connect independent of men, the only way they can truly be together is by inventing a new universe that is able to hold them.

This got long so I am making another one.

#riverdale #mourning process #beronica #jarchie #long post

[lxdymoon0357]

How about making Duna jealous by having Minho in the palm of your hands?! I mean like, reader definitely loves him, but she absolutely despises Minho cause she had already done some damage and so she likes to spoil him, flaunts that she has him, etc to both Duna and Wookyung? She's also rich and what not..

(You spoke literally my heart's desires and put them in a post!! Reader is described to have tattoos| Fem! Reader, reader is mentioned to have long hair| Mentions of SA, unhinge shit from Duna.)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

The other...better spouse..

The moment Duna walked out of the shop, clutching a box of cigarettes, her eyes were burning to cry because it was the most sick and twisted dream because why was she seeing Minho standing outside a alcohol shop having a little person cling to him inside his black puffer jacket as he laughed softly?

She never knew he could laugh so beautifully, that he had creases under his eyes when he laughed or smiled, that he is very ticklish.. She noticed your long hair falling out of his puffer jacket as he laughed softly, before you finally came out of his jacket, enjoying yourself as you both talked and crossed the streets heading in her direction...

Duna never knew that The Byun Minho was capable of change...I mean, she honestly always wanted to put him in his place during sex, break him down, make him bed for her forgiveness, make him her own personal rape doll...She was confused as to how Minho could get anyone with his bitter, distasteful and gross personality and not even being big enough to pleasure someone...

Duna stood there frozen as you and Minho crossed, hand laced together, with him giggling at something you said while you couldn't bother to remove your eyes from him...How could you? He was just such a gorgeous human inside that hard exterior.

Just as you both got on the pavement, Minho froze as you finally turned away to meet the eyes of a girl, quite pretty but you weren't getting good vibes from her, You tightened your grip on Minho's hand ever so slightly,

"Who are you?" Duna asked you, quite audacious you guessed from her mannerisms, as you glared at her up and down before softly poking Minho's cheek and clinging to his arm more making Minho snap out of his trance as he awkwardly looked at you and Duna before shaking his head and saying,

"Ah, Uhm...Y/N..Jagi, this is Duna...My ex.." he said murmuring as you nodded in realization, so she was the one who cheated on him and the one who raped him...You glared at her angrily, before sighing, squeezing Minho's hands in yours softly before letting go and pushing the door of the shop Duna just came out of,

"I'll go get the things we need." you said going inside the shop as Duna stared at you with jealousy and anger, you were gorgeous, she couldn't lie, long hair, gorgeous fashion, you seemed smart, with the etiquette and the style of you clothing, it was also safe to assume you were also quite rich..

Minho sighed as he stood aside, wondering who'd make the first move as Duna walked closer, "Minho...Why'd you choose her?" she asked straight forward glaring at him, making chills go down his spine as he rubbed his nape and took a step back, "I..Uh.." he took a step back every time she took a step forward.

Duna softly took a hold of his wrist in hers, pulling him uncomfortably close to her, pushing him against the wall of a closed shop besides the one which was open where you were inside.

"You know I'm better than her, right? What is it about her that's better? Is she pretty? Rich? None of it, you know I tried to help you, I was just a bit mad back then..." Duna said, her words spilling out without her noticing as Minho seemed frozen, taking deep breathes as he shrunk into himself. The sight made her feel powerful.

but suddenly a sharp jerk pulled her back from her hair as she was thrown onto the ground as she looked up to meet your glaring eyes as tow large broad men stood besides you also staring at her seriously as you helped Minho while the other the two men glared at her,

"Please, do not dare to hurt Sir.Byun, otherwise we'd be contacting authorities." one of the man said as she could see you pepper Minho with kisses who was clinging to you like a little child.

Softly you rubbed his back, snapping your fingers and handing your bag of wines and another plastic bag of different things to a bodyguards while a expensive car pulled up close to you as Duan dusted herself and quickly got up with embarrassment.

You were simply trying to calm Minho and sat him down in the expensive sports car before turning to Duna and walking closer, your heels clacking on the side of the pavement as she took steps back before she was backed into the wall where she was pinning Minho a few seconds ago,

"Listen, bitch. If I see you getting even a hundred miles closer to Minho, I'd take a thousand amount of evidence that you sexually assaulted him and get you a good life sentence." you said grabbing her jaw and grinning at her with mock and disgust, tightening your grip on her jaw making it ache,

"You're lucky it's Minho's kindness of not wanting to ruin your already no-good, pathetic, little life by not reporting you, but I won't be kind...Tell that to the little freak Cha Wookyung as well." you said letting go of her jaw as she rubbed it before throwing the cigarette box she dropped in her face and turning on your heel and sitting in the car.

As you sat inside the car and it drove off, Duna could just stand there staring down at the box off cigarette you threw in her face, realizing maybe you were the better one out of both of you...

#navi⌗writes⌗ #navi⌗answers⌗!!!!! #sadistic beauty x reader #sadistic beauty #byun minho #manhwa #sadistic beauty side story #sadistic beauty x you #sadistic beauty x y/n #sadistic beauty fanfic #sadistic beauty headcanons #sadistic beauty scenarios #byun minho x reader #byun minho x you #byun minho x y/n #byun minho headcanons #byun minho scenarios #byun minho fics #manhwa x y/n #manhwa x you #manhwa x reader #manhwa headcanons #manhwa imagines #manhwa scenarios #manhwa drabbles #manhwa fanfic #manhwa fic #byun minho sadistic beauty #chun duna #cheon doona

[temptress-writes]

🦊 Lucky Fox

A/N: Groovy seventies Harry. Part two of Disco Snow

C.W: DRUG USE (weed). Sexual content: spit kink, breeding kink, dum/dom play (subrry), spanking, squirting, anal play, bondage, choking.

Word count—10.2k.

Enjoy x

***

“I’m fumin’, little fox.”

The cord of your telephone is tangled in a perfect spiral around your index finger, your back pressed against the wall beside where the cradle hangs. You try to stifle the giggle that ensues his competitive aggression on the other end of the phone.

“It’s just a game, Harry.”

“Just a game? Right and Waffelos is just cereal, not a heavenly maple orgasm in the mouth.”

You laugh harder at his dramatic claim. It’s something you love about him. He puts his full heart into everything. Whether it’s a particularly tight parallel parking spot, a really bad joke, or a heavy debate on which cereal is the best. And mostly? You.

Well. You, and currently, Space Invaders.

“I’m not kidding around. I dialed you for reinforcements. Get your perky little ass down here.”

And with that, he hangs up. This is a reoccurring thing for the two of you. Harry tries to beat his highest score down at the arcade but swears he needs his little fox at his side for good luck. You're more than happy to oblige, often massaging his tense shoulders, offering sips of a milkshake through a straw before giving him a peck on his raspberry lips.

Ever since that night at the Hall of Mirrors, you and Harry have been inseparable. More discos, even more nights in his sheets. Months and months of dance battles in your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, months of reading poetry laid out in a park, his head tucked into your lap as you recite lines.

He is everything you adore in a person; warm, charismatic, shameless. He’s taught you a lot about being true to yourself. You often find yourself trying to be a people pleaser. To fit into a label of what makes you a person.

But Harry is a different class of human. Unhinged and unapologetic. Soulful and selfless. Of course, the man who wore bubblegum flares when you first met him would be the one you’d give your heart to. Really, his existence is one of a dream-like mirage. But he’s so real, and all yours.

Due to Harry’s more than electric dressing sense, he’s usually hauling you down to the mall in his yellow Dodge Charger. Grabbing items from racks and making you try them all on. Telling you twirl and show it off. He swears you suit everything and is quick to buy whatever you like. His favourite thing to spoil you with is lingerie, buying you dreamy underwear that he can rip apart with his teeth before tasting you.

One of your most recent purchases, courtesy of Harry’s taste, is a pair of gold sequin pants. You shimmy them up your legs, throwing on your white blouse and your white platform shoes. You leave your hair natural, not tying it up like you usually do because you know how much Harry enjoys playing with the loose strands.

Seated at your vanity, you apply a frosty green eyeshadow to your eyelid and use your cake liner to define your eyes with black along your lash line. With some coats of mascara and a wash of lip gloss, you grab your jacket and purse and head down to the arcade.

The sun is setting, melting into the skyline of Miami with warm caramel and fluffy candy-floss clouds that become burnt violet as the sun nears the horizon.

The Score. An arcade and bowling alley that evolves into a buzzing bar every night. Being a new establishment, it's a hot spot that offers everything. Entertainment, dancing, drinking, and the best hotdogs Harry says he’s ever tasted.

You pass the payphone where Harry called you from, skirting around the corner and bump straight into him.

He’s smiling brightly and you take a second to appreciate how fucking good he looks. You’re glad you put in the effort to match his style, always so impressed with his fits. This one might be one of your favourites.

The first thing you notice is the brown fur coat draped over his broad shoulders. It’s luxurious and warm and makes you want to cuddle him even more. Underneath is a yellow graphic t-shirt with his favourite orange stained sunglasses hung on the neck of it. His legs are nestled in a pair of blue flared jeans, his feet donning a pair of gold boots.

He makes a little whiney noise and cups your face in his jeweled fingers, leaving soft and delicate kisses to your lips and the tip of your nose. He pulls back to smile, his dimples and little crinkles by his eyes indented with the force.

“Hi, how high are you? Wait no, how are you h- I’m high as shit.”

You laugh, pressing your face into his neck and feeling his warmth. “Pothead. Did you smoke without me?”

He narrows his eyes at your pouted lips, flicking them with his finger. “Aw, feeling left out?”

“No.” You grumble playfully.

He chuckles, looking around before pulling you down the alley next to The Score. He fumbles around his jacket pocket, producing a half-smoked blunt and his lighter.

“Pucker up, baby.”

You giggle, allowing him to place the blunt between your pursed lips. He lights it, shielding the flame from the wind with his hand. You suck in deeply while Harry keeps watch. The smoke fills your lungs before it leaves your body in a plume. Harry grips your chin, sucking the smoke from your pouted lips.

Your lips meet in a heated kiss, the blunt quickly forgotten as he scoops you closer in his arms. He pressed you against the wall, tangling his hands in your hand and sucking on your tongue.

“Left your hair down for me, pretty girl. Know how much I like to pull it, don’t you?”

You sigh against him, your hands gripping his ass to pull him flush against you. He shamelessly grinds his crotch against you, kissing you deeply. You love his kisses. How much heavy meaning and adoration lies behind them.

He tugs your hair once more before growling and pulling away. He throws you a wink and breathes out a puff of air to calm himself down. He’s often telling you how much he struggles to keep his hands off you and today is no different.

He’ll never pass up an opportunity to have his hands on you, especially in those gold pants of yours.

But he’s also aware that you’re both stood in an alley with a dying blunt when you could be inside, getting settled into some entertainment for the night. He loves spending time with you like this. Having a smoke, maybe a drink or two. Getting silly and teasing each other. He can’t fucking wait.

He grips your wrist as you bring the joint up to your lips. You raise your brow. “What?”

“You take another hit and you’ll be catching some Z’s before I can get you a drink.”

“You're not wrong.”

He knows you so well, and you allow him to take the joint from your fingers and finish it. He flicks the butt to the ground, crunching it under the toe of his golden boot. He grips your hip, tugging on your pants and clicking his tongue.

“Look at us being all cute and shit. Matching, eh? Golden couple.”

Your hands bury themselves into his fur coat. “I love the coat.”

“Yeah? Don’t sweat it- it’s faux. No little foxes were harmed.”

He hooks his arm around your neck, pulling you from the alleyway and towards the arcade. You feel warm and fuzzy from both him and the joint. The night that stretches ahead of you makes you yearn for more of him. You can’t ever get enough of each other. Any second he can be showing you how much he appreciates you, he is.

“Let’s go buzz some extraterrestrials, yo!” He yells and you duck your head as people stare at him.

With two vodka slushies in hand, the two of you head over to the Space Invaders machine and you’re surprised there are no indents in the carpet from where he’s been standing most of today.

Harry’s excited, you can tell. He’s such a competitive person and as of late, his rival has been himself. Falling ever so slightly short to beat his own high score. You look at the leader board and it seems there is someone attempting to take his throne, creeping into 3rd place. You snort at the name he’s given himself.

SPACE INVADERS

HIGH SCORES

1st   DADDY 435945

2nd   DADDY 421890

3rd   TB 337300

“Daddy? Please tell me that’s not you.”

Harry drops his jaw. “I- hang on, say it again. I like it.”

You pull him close, taking a sip of your vodka slushy and he does the same, wriggling his brows to egg you on. You’re both on a different level to the rest of the arcade, high off the joint and each other, buzzing off the vodka slushies.

“What, you wanna be my daddy?”

“Cheeky thing. I am your daddy.”

You bump your hip against his, tutting your tongue. Harry laughs at the flush in your cheeks before taking a long sip of his slushy. He hands it to you for safekeeping, poking his tongue out at you, tinged red from his drink. You poke your tongue out and he gasps at the bright blue stain.

“Blue tongued fox!”

You snort. “Sounds like an endangered species.”

“You’re one of a kind, my girl.” He leaves a kiss on your forehead and then your nose. He’s so soft and constantly being so affectionate with you. He winks. “Right, let’s send these ET fuckers home.”

After removing his coat and placing it on your shoulders, he turns to the gaming machine in front of him. He claps a couple of times and then rubs his hands together, psyching himself up for the task ahead.

He stretches out his neck, cracking his knuckles and you know he means business. He starts up the game, the little theme playing out that he hums along to.

Innocently sipping your slushy and then his, you place them on the bench beside you. You move to stand behind him, pressing your chest flat against his back. You can feel the warmth radiating from beneath his yellow t-shirt, his back expanding on a breath as he feels your tits against him.

He shakes his head to clear the delicious fog of you, starting up the game and letting his hands find the controls as if they’re a second home. As much as he loves to put his focus into his game, you will always be his top priority, the cutest and most welcome little distraction.

Your lips press on the plane of his back, right between his shoulder blades. You hum, your hands wrapping around his waist to press against his tummy. Your fingers slip underneath the material, desperate to feel his skin in any way you can.

He shivers when your nails scratch up and down his soft stomach. The beeps from the game mirror the jolts in his upper body as he aims and shoots, diminishing the rows of aliens on the screen.

You peer over his shoulder, patient and almost in awe of how controlled he is. So calm in the moment but you know he’ll be very vocal when the game ends. His score crawls higher and higher, as do your words of praise and encouragement.

“You got this, daddy.” You tease, hearing him growl deep in his chest.

“Cut it out, little fox. I’m trying to focus. And watch those hands.”

“Oops.” You giggle as if you don’t control the fact that your hands are veering south. Meeting the denim of his jeans, dreaming about going lower. But you decide to behave and tuck your fingers into the belt loops and kiss his shoulder.

“Fuck, almost got it. One more row and I’m toast.”

The pressure is high and you’re holding your breath as the rows of enemies creep lower and lower. But Harry feels like he’s been training for this moment. He’s about to surpass his highest score, taste it on the tip of his tongue, like his slushy. Or you.

You hold your breath as he grits his teeth, fully immersing himself in this game. He can feel the vapours of victory encase him, wrapping around his frame and bubble in his chest. They escape in excited yells as he surpasses his highest score.

“Fuck yes!” He cheers, whipping around to pick you up and spin you in a circle. Your congratulations are a round of elated yells and kisses. He puts you down and fist bumps the air, slapping the side of the gaming machine.

“Daddy reigns high, bitches!”

Others in the arcade shoot him looks at his expressive behavior. You shrug unapologetically, over the moon for your lover and his triumph.

“I’m so happy for you, handsome.” You smile, hugging him and squeezing his biceps. He wrinkles his nose and flexes them, showing off proudly even though he’s the least vain person you know.

He places his orange-stained glasses on you, adjusting so they sit perfectly on the bridge of your nose.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. You’re my lucky fox.”

Swimming in victory, Harry veers you towards the bowling alley. You exchange your heels for a pair of red and blue bowling shoes. Harry sits next to you, tying your laces before he does his own.

You find a secluded alley, away from other bowlers. You store your belongings in the booth, Harry’s fur coat included. Music blasts from the speakers and you hum along, trudging behind Harry as he approaches the rack and chooses a ball.

He picks the pink bowling ball in classic fashion. Bubblegum. He holds it, sending you a cheeky look and you brace yourself for whatever comment is about to come.

He nods to his hold of the three hooks in the pink ball. “Two in the pink, one in the stink, aye?”

You slap his chest, shoving past him to the rack and pulling up your choice of ball. A shimmering blue one.

“Behave, or you’ll have blue balls.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “Nice one, honey made a funny.”

“I do try.”

You stare down the lane at the setup of pins, twisting your lips. You’re competitive but nowhere near as competitive as he is. You can see the strategies forming behind his eyes and you wonder if you can sweet-talk him into taking it easy on you.

He smirks. “Ladies first.”

You bite your lip, aiming up your shot as you swing the ball back in your grasp. You can feel his eyes on you, in admiration, but also watching your technique. Whether that’s to help you better your game or to use it against you, you’re sure you’ll find out soon enough.

Your blue ball careens down the lane, your posture impressive and you stand to watch it take down just three pins. You groan out in frustration, knowing your body is slow and cloudy from the joint and single drink you had. Your second shot is no better, knocking down two additional pins. You jot down your unimpressive score on the sheet with a huff.

Harry chuckles, coming up beside you and pinching your hip. “Lucky fox. Watch me sink ten.”

“You won’t.”

“How about this,” He spreads his hands, preparing his proposal. “for every pin I knock down, you give me a kiss.”

“I hope you gutter it.”

“Oh, bite me.” He glares, kissing his cross pendant hanging around his neck before grabbing his ball to swing his shot.

As the ball shoots from his hand, the muscles and veins flex in his arm, his foot crossed back behind him dramatically.

His jeweled fingers shield his eyes from an imaginary glare as he watches his play. The bowling ball speeds dead center down the lane, blurring pink and knocking down ten pins.

“Strike!” He yells, pleased with himself. He does a little dance, his flared jeans swaying as he jives.

Of fucking course he lands a strike. His competitive streak on a high from passing his high score. You jump out of the way as he reaches for you. A haze of yellow and blue denim, a lazy smile, and mischievous emerald eyes that don’t leave yours.

“You cheated.” You deadpan, wanting to wind him up more than anything.

He laughs before his expression is dropped, stoic with his hands on his hips. “As fucking if. Stop being a sore loser and pay up. Come on, ten smooches. And don’t be stingy, I’ll be counting 'em.”

You sigh, feigning a look of sore defeat. “Fine. Where do you want them?”

“Losers choice.” He grins, happy to receive your kisses anywhere you’ll give them.

You can’t help but smile, your heart careening and flipping in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a peck on the cheek, then the other, and then the nose, the corner of his mouth. When your lips meet, neither of you are counting anymore. Harry’s not even sure if he was counting in the first place.

It’s hard to act nonchalant when you’re kissing him. Or when you’re with him in general. He’s everything warm and gooey and glowing about life. All of your favourite things are wrapped into one dimpled, tattooed human. Curly, bubblegum.

It’s even harder to part. Even being in a public place, Harry sees no shame in showing his girl as much love and affection as he sees fit.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, his voice a low whisper. “You’re my lucky little fox, but I’m by far the luckiest fucker alive to call you mine.”

You kiss him again, so head over heels, submerged in him, so far gone, and happy to be.

Your next approach to the lane is one of determination. You take a deep breath, trying to form a connection with your bowling ball while Harry whistles loudly behind you.

“You got this, baby! Your ass looks mint!”

You turn to look at him, your head tilted. “Stop trying to throw me off!”

Harry waves you off. “Turn back around, let me see the peach.”

You roll your eyes and try to push it to the back of your mind, eyeing the ten pins at the end and glaring. You want to impress Harry but you also want to impress yourself. The fog in your mind parts straight down the middle, allowing the perfect alignment of the alley.

You swing your arm back as you take a few steps forward before launching the ball down towards the pins. You hear Harry cheer you on as it fires dead center towards the pin. You shout at it, willing it to stay on course.

The ball veers ever so slightly to the right, clipping half of the pins and knocking down an extra two. Seven down, the three remaining glaring at you. Harry scoops you up with an excited yell, spinning you in a circle.

You kiss him, unable to help yourself. You retrieve your ball and face the pins, Harry crowding behind you with his hands on your waist. His lips brush your ear, soft and enticing an eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Three left, little fox. Want the pro to help you sink 'em?”

You smile, turning your neck so you can nudge your nose against his. “Please.”

With his hold on your waist, he ushers you to the left a little, lining you up for the shot. “Aim slightly to the left, okay? Give it full power.”

You nod, letting his arm guide yours in a trialing movement. “Like this?”

“Just like that, atta girl.”

He takes a small step back, sensing your immense focus on his teachings. You let the ball roll from your fingers, surging towards the remaining pins. You’re hopeful as it nears them, staying right on course just as Harry had predicted. His arms are wrapped around you as you both watch the ball knock down the three pins.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He yells, squeezing you tight while you cheer at your win. You high-five him, slipping his glasses from your nose and tucking them into the neck of his shirt.

You shrug and drop your chin against your shoulder, bashful.

“That was slick as shit, foxy.”

He’s impressed, proud even, as he writes your score down on the card. Your little victory dance is adorable, his smile growing as you parade around in triumph. You’re still buzzing, the weed sizzling and melting in your bloodstream.

“Your turn, hotshot.”

“Might as well put down a strike for me now.” He points to the scorecard.

“You’re cocky sometimes, you know that?”

“Pfft, only sometimes? If I bury ten, I get to borrow those pants next weekend.” He points to your gold sequins and your roll your eyes playfully.

“You know I’d let you, anyway.”

“Mm, but I like winning.”

He picks up his pink ball, throwing you a wink before skillfully lining up his shot. He sinks eight easily, toppling over and knocking the remaining two. Another clean strike. The celebration that proceeds is no less enthusiastic, shared kisses and cheers.

You write down his score on the sheet, as Harry seemingly loses all interest in the bowling game at hand. It’s hard to focus on anything but you, and with his own buzz slowly dissipating, he’s only high off you.

He presses you against the table, your breath hitching as his hands slide down the backs of your thighs. His lips brush yours and you’re quick to flick your tongue out against his bottom lip.

“You owe me ten kisses, pretty girl.”

Your hands tangle into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “Can I get a please?”

The smirk that curls at his lips creates a warm, fuzzy feeling inside your chest. “Feeling bossy tonight, hm? You wanna call the shots?”

Genuinely intrigued by the idea, you tilt your head shyly. “Would you let me?”

“You’re asking if I’d let you be in control, little fox? Let you sit on my face, ride my cock as long as you like?”

Hearing the words leave his mouth strips all moisture from your mouth. It’s streamed between your legs and you squeeze your thighs together to quell the sudden intense burst of arousal.

“Harry, please.”

His expression is one of heady desire, “I’ll be your good boy tonight. You just need to give me a kiss, first.”

The sentence barely leaves his lips before your lips meet his. Messy and heated. His lips encasing your lower one, your tongue finding his. He doesn’t even attempt to stifle the moan that rumbles in his chest.

He presses tightly against you, and you can feel his cock hardening beneath his denim jeans. You pull away, your eyes lulled. Harry smiles lazily, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before giving your ass a full squeeze.

“Let’s ditch this joint, hm? Burn some rubber in the Dodge, you can give me a handy on the way back to yours.”

You don’t even have the willpower to slap him for the comment, too enthralled with his sudden change of mood. Sappy and gooey, you just want each other.

“What about the game?” You gesture to the bowling alley.

“It’s a tie, or you win. I don’t care, I just wanna get home and let you use me.”

After collecting your belongings and swapping the bowling shoes for your own, you find yourselves tucked into his Dodge Charger, the engine roaring to life. The bright nightlife reflects off the yellow exterior of the car as Harry drives through the streets of Miami.

Harry turns up the radio, All Along The Watchtower booming through the speakers, bass thrumming in your throat. You put the window down and get lost in the breeze. The song, the man you’re with, feels like something one could only dream of.

Harry has one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh. He squeezes it every so often, and you have to take a deep breath to stabilise how turned on you are. It’s thick and cloudy between you.

His jaw is sharp, his eyes are trained on the road. He leans over at a red light, sealing your lips together in a kiss that you feel in the pit of your stomach.

As the light turns green and his foot is pressed on the accelerator, you’re leaning over the center console and nuzzling your face into his neck. The deep, woody vanilla smell is your aromatic home.

Your teeth bite gently into the skin before you suck, knowingly marking him. He hisses, his hold on your leg tightening at the sensation. It creeps higher, eager to feel you. Your hand finds itself on his thigh, inching towards where he wants you most.

You know you don’t have much time before you’re due to pull up at your apartment. And you’re impatient by nature. Your lips don’t leave his neck as your hands work to open his belt, clinking buckle and worn leather parted so you can pull down the zipper of his jeans.

“Oh, my god.” He groans, your fingers finding his length through his briefs. You peek out the window, taking note of where you are and knowing you need to be quick about this.

You carefully pull his length from the confines of his pants, wrapping your fist around him. He breaths out a shaky sigh as you touch him, so hot and silky, getting harder and harder for you. You look at him, flicking your tongue along his jawline to meet his ear.

“Spit on my tongue like a good boy.”

Harry’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, trying to keep his cool as if you aren’t fisting his cock and asking him to spit in your mouth. You pull away, opening your mouth wide and raising your brow expectantly.

Flicking his eyes from yours to the road, he swears under his breath before gripping your chin to steady you. He spits in your mouth, feeling so fucking unhinged that his ears are ringing.

You hum, satisfied before you return your attention to his throbbing cock. You spit directly on the head of his dick, using your hand to spread the moisture down the entirety of him. He lets out a soft moan at the slick feel of your tightened fist.

Your nose nudges his cheek as you work him with your hard, his breathing shaky, blissful noises leaving his mouth as you pick up your pace.

“Do you want my mouth on you, baby?” You mewl, your voice so sweet and sugary in his ear.

“You know I do.”

“Beg me.”

Harry clenches his jaw, wound up so tight from you. He can feel the reigns of control gripped surely in your hands, just as firm as your hold on his cock.

“Please, my little fox. Please let me feel your gorgeous mouth wrapped around me, I need it.”

“How badly do you need it?”

“So fucking bad, please let me fuck your throat, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You want me to have a taste?” You’re loving having the power. Hearing him become so desperate for you, shamelessly beg for you.

“Fuck, please. Please taste it.”

You smirk, pleased with how good he’s been for you. You get comfortable, leaning down so your head is practically in his lap. You flick your tongue against the underside of his tip, moving up to swirl your tongue along it. He’s wet with pre-come and so hard for you.

His thighs tense under you, his hand tangling into your hair. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Filling your mouth with his cock while Jimi Hendrix fills the thick air with his voice.

He almost misses his turn as you envelop his tip past your lips, your hot mouth a welcome warmth that he moans at the feel of. Your hand works his shaft, getting him nice and wet so you can slowly take more of him.

Your throat is tight and Harry chokes out a curse as you take most of him, your muscles constricting around him. So big and so thick but you’re determined to have him as deep as he can go.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He sighs, fisting your hair so tight that tears form in your eyes at the sharpness of it.

He tastes heavenly, and as if that isn’t enough, the sounds he makes are otherworldly. They egg you on, spur you to make him feel as good as possible. You work him harder, bobbing up and down while your hand jerks his skin.

Harry is near on sobbing above you, having to focus on the road even though his vision is blurring. The purr of the engine and the wet hot of your mouth is too fucking much. He comes to a stop at a red light a little too harshly and you come up to glare at him.

“Be careful-“

But he’s pushing you back down, his expression almost panicked. Someone’s pulled up next to you at the red light. “Shh, shh, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Shit, that’s fucking good. Oh, my god.”

The light switches to green and after Harry completes a turn, you come up again, your glare even harder this time.

“Who’s in control again?”

“Oh, shit-“

“Answer the fucking question.”

He swallows, panting. “You are, sweet girl.”

“Exactly. If you try to boss me around, I’ll make you sit on your hands while I fuck myself.”

“Jesus Christ-“

“Do you understand? I’ll get out that pink toy you like so much, let it be the only thing that fills my pussy tonight.”

“Fuck, yes I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Will you be a good boy?” You check, on fire with how hot it is being the dominant one tonight.

“Yes, I’ll be your good boy.”

Satisfied with his answer, you swallow him again. Not giving him a second before his tip is nestled right against the back of your throat. You hum around him, the vibrations driving him wild. You can feel him pull over to the curb, and a quick glance out the window tells you that you’ve reached your apartment.

You don’t give him any room to question how the night will go, you simply head inside while he puts his rock-hard dick back into the tight denim of his jeans and chases after you.

At first, you spent an equal amount of time at each other’s apartments. But, over time, it became clear that Harry favours your own abode. So much warmer and homely than his. A woman’s touch that his is missing. He loves your bright green sofa, the stacks of books that serve as little side tables.

It had been an unspoken observation, met by two surging souls. He noticed the little things at first. You started to stock your cupboard with some of his favourite snacks, an extra toothbrush found a home in your bathroom. And, after a while, he barely found himself leaving it.

You’re pressed against the mint-toned refrigerator, fervent lips attached to your neck. You push him away playfully with a raised brow. Always so used to taking you how he wants to, he’s forgotten who’s in control tonight.

He releases a breathy laugh as you walk towards him. He backs away, falling into a chair at the dining table. It’s right where you coerced him, right where you want him.

You strip your shirt off, throwing it over his head and he removes it with a chuckle, not wanting to miss a thing. You decide to discard your bra as well, knowing how much he loves your tits and how much he’ll hate not being able to touch them and play with them.

“You like these pants, Harry?” Your fingers toy with the waistband and he shifts restlessly in his seat.

“I love whatever you wear. You make everything look so fucking sexy.”

You purse your lips. “Great answer.”

Your response has his heart leaping in his chest, feeling as if he just got a gold star. Hoping he can cash it in at some point tonight for an ounce of control.

“And what if I told you that the panties match?” You continue.

“Then I’d fucking beg to see them.”

“Do it, then.”

Your expression is unreadable and he just knows that you’re having too much fun with this.

“Please, let-“

“Uh uh.” You stop him. “On your knees.”

Harry is slow to comply, and maybe it’s so he can coerce a reaction from you. You tap your foot, the white platforms tall and intimidating. He’s on his knees in front of you, his expression soft and pleading as he stares up at you through his lashes.

“Please, baby. Let me see them. I’ve been so good, I promise I’ll behave.”

You scoff. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I need to see your pretty panties. Your cunt is my favourite place, let me see how you’ve dressed her.”

You try to hide how his words make you feel, and you’re surprised you don’t melt into a puddle next to him. He always says the right thing. Granted, it’s always filthy and shameless, but it’s what you need.

“So desperate.” You smirk, holding his eye contact.

He licks his lips, not even denying it. He’s not ashamed, hell, he’ll even shout it from the rooftops if that’s what you want. His eyes fan down your legs as you peel your pants off, discarding them, left in nothing but your heels and your panties.

The panties are heavenly, ethereal. Mouth fucking watering. He’s surprised there’s not a puddle of drool on the ground next to him. White lace embroidered with golden threaded flowers. So delicate and angelic beneath the glittering excitement of the sequins.

You click your fingers, trying to get his attention. His hand reaches out and you smack it away. “Naughty boy.”

“I’m sorry,” He rasps. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise.”

“What about your mouth?”

“It’s yours to use.”

His curls are a mess atop his head, falling down his forehead in chocolate tendrils. His chest is heaving, his hands clenched into impatient fists he wants to grip your hair while he fucks you.

You take a single step forward, his face level with your panties. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath fan over your core, so needy for him. You’re sure that the panties are saturated at this point, you can feel how wet you are and just know you’ll leave his face a mess.

You bring one of your feet up and rest it on the chair right behind him. Harry gulps, waiting for your next instruction.

“Do you like them?” You ask, your fingers toying with the band of the panties at your hips.

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Such a dirty mouth.”

You lean down, gripping his chin so hard his jaw drops. Harry’s not expecting you it when you spit on his tongue, it’s messy, speckling on his lips a little. He moans deep in his chest, keeping his mouth open, ready to obey.

“I’ll have to give it something better to do.” You coo, pulling your panties to the side to expose your core to him.

At the sight of your glistening pussy, Harry shifts on his knees, so desperate to taste you. To bury his face against you, fuck you with his tongue while his nose presses against your clit. Bossy little fox, he’s trying to behave but it’s so fucking hard.

Your fingers run along your clit, further down to where you’re wettest. You spread your arousal, swirling along the sensitive bundle of nerves. Harry’s nostrils flare at the sight, your moans are soft as you touch yourself.

Anchoring your foot on the chair with your center right in front of his face, your hand takes a fistful of his hair. With your hold on him, you bring his face forward, putting his mouth directly on your cunt.

His mouth is searing hot, so wet against you. Not wasting any time, Harry flicks his tongue out, between your folds to collect your wetness and closing his lips around your clit in a kiss. You throw your head back with an unsteady sigh, finally getting the attention that you’ve been craving all night.

It started as an electric throbbing, intensified every time he looked at you or touched you. Now it feels like a wildfire that blooms in the pit of your stomach and flares through to every nerve in your body.

Harry, finally happy to be allowed to touch you, eats your pussy with ardent lust. He’s desperate, frantic almost. You moan loudly at how good he is at this. How good he makes you feel, how desirable. He loves your body, loves touching it, making it hum for him.

You roll your hips forward, unable to contain yourself. He nibbles gently on your clit and you gasp out, pulling on his hair. His eyes flicker up to you, sparkling with mischief before they close as he hums, tasting you deeper, getting you wetter.

Your legs shake as he targets your clit even more, knowing it drives you fucking mad. You put your foot back on the ground, pulling your core away from him. His mouth chases after it, not ready to not have you on his tongue. Your taste drives him mad and he’s a man addicted.

He stands, desperate to have you but you push him back roughly. He lands on the chair with a thud, staring up at you with a bewildered expression. His curls are even more of a mess at this point.

“Let me taste you. I’ll make you come as many times as you want.”

“What did I tell you about that mouth?”

“You’ve soaked your pretty panties, sweet fox. Better take 'em off.”

You move to stand in front of him, gripping his jaw in your hand. Harry’s so fucking turned on, his cock unbelievably hard beneath his denim jeans that it’s starting to hurt.

“Stop talking.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The glint in his eyes does little to instill your confidence in him. He’s far too cocky, too cheeky to actually obey you. He’ll find a way to capture the reigns at some point, but not yet. You’re only just getting started.

As gracefully as you can, you sit upon the table in front of him. Harry swears under his breath at the sight, immediately lurching forward almost as if it’s an instinct. Your heeled foot presses against his chest, halting him before pushing him back into his seat.

You make him wait, spreading your legs. He pants, his eyes flicking between your panties and your face. Waiting. So patient.

“Take my panties off.” You instruct. He raises his hand and you tut. “Uh uh, use your teeth.”

Harry growls, placing his hands on the edges of the table and licking a bold stripe up your thigh. You tense, wishing his tongue was back on your cunt but you know this payoff will be good.

His nose runs along the edge of your panties, right next to where you want him. He flicks his tongue out against your inner thigh and your legs jump at the attention. His teeth meet the band at your hip, drawing it down slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours once, ensnared in you.

With one side lowered to your upper thigh, he moves to the other side, sucking the skin of your navel right above the band of your panties. You gasp as a mark forms before he pulls down your panties from your hip.

You shift your hips up, helping him peel them down your legs, taking them in his fist and shoving them in his pocket.

“Good boy.” You praise. “Come get your taste.”

The words have barely left your lips before his mouth is on your cunt again. Vibrating against you as a moan rocks through him. You taste so fucking good, maybe even more than usual because of how withholding you’ve been.

You collapse against the table, the surface cool against your back. His enthusiasm is unparalleled. The kind of pleasure he gives so easily used to be the kind you could only fake with partners. But he does everything so well.

“Perfect little pussy,” He coos against you.

He traps your clit between his teeth before flicking the tip of his tongue against it. You cry out, your thighs closing around his head. He delves his tongue south, finding your entrance and gathering the gushing wetness.

He doesn’t hesitate to go further down, his tongue massaging your rare entrance briefly before he’s pulling back and spitting directly on your pussy. His eyes meet yours and you just about pass out at the sight of his face fucking saturated with you. Almost dripping off of his soaked chin.

You grip his head, pushing him back down. He’s happy to oblige, eating you out so fast and intense that your vision starts to blur.

“Fuck, yes right there, oh my god.”

He sucks on your clit, humming to vibrate the area. You come up to rest on your elbows, wanting to watch him. You roll your hips up and he becomes idle, letting you fuck his face. He falls back into the chair, his hand coming down to massage his dick through his jeans while you grind your cunt against him.

“Are you going to come in your pants while you eat my pussy?” Your tone is verging on condescending and Harry almost finishes right then and there.

His cock throbs at your words, so out of it for him. He feels unhinged, so close to shutting you up and plunging his length into you. You’re so wet and so sweet for him, it would be so easy to slide into your plush cunt and feel your walls grip him like a fist. But he wants you to come like this first.

“Let me give you my fingers, baby. Want you to squirt all over me, make a fucking mess of me. Please let me.”

“Not… yet…” You breathe out, even though you feel so fucking close you could scream.

As if sensing your control slipping, you push him away. You can feel your orgasm brewing and you know that as soon as it hits, you’ll be a writhing mess and your game will come to a finish the second that you do.

“What-“

“I don’t want to come yet.” You gasp, your chest heaving and your core tingling with heat.

“You really want to play this game, little fox?”

You stand your ground. “Go get on the bed.”

Your bedroom is his favourite place. Warm yellow and orange ambiance, a wide bed with crushed velvet bedding. That in abundance with your fervor and passion, Harry swears it’s like sleeping in the sun. Golden, burning desire, deliciously cocooning beams of sunny adoration that wash over you.

As if he’s missed the warmth of it, he sits eagerly on the edge of your bed with a soft bounce. He peels off his shirt, feeling too hot to keep it on. His belt is already undone, he unbuttoned his jeans and you tap your foot.

You saunter towards him, a prowess with hauntingly lustful eyes. He clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness decorate his chin mouth still. You push him flat onto the bed, crawling to straddle him. Your core presses against the fly of his jeans and you can feel how hard his cock is.

His hands find your hips immediately and you push them away with a glare.

“Keep your hands off.”

“Make me.”

Taking it as a challenge, you lean over to the bedside table and open the middle drawer. A draw often opened whenever you and Harry find yourself tangled up in these sheets. A drawer of trust and exploration. You grab a few things, hiding one object under the pillow so he doesn’t see it.

With two pieces of rope, you tie around his wrists and attach the ropes to the steel rings in your headboard. Harry had them installed as soon as he realised how much you loved being restrained in bed. Turns out, he enjoys it just as much.

Your relationship with Harry is a constant stream of excitement. At first, you thought that potentially he would always have the upper hand. But the reality is, you’re two equal souls in every aspect. You split bills, you wear each other’s clothes, you both had control in bed. It has never been like this, though. Tonight is new and different.

He allows you to tie him up, barely tensing his muscles and pulling on the restraints. You know that you’ll be unable to untie him in a split second if he wants to, but the smug look on his face tells you he’s content. For now.

You scoot up, sitting on his chest, smooth and inked. You spread your legs, settling your feet on either side of him. Harry licks his lips at the sight of your core right in front of him. He can see that you’re almost dripping and he wants to catch it with his tongue.

He has no idea what you have planned, only knows that you’re having too much fun playing with him like this.

His eyes watch your every movement, on edge yet intrigued to see what you’ll do next. One hand reaches down to palm his cock through his jeans. He shifts his head back into the pillow with a low groan. Now that you’ve successfully distracted him, your other hand reaches for the other item you retrieved from the draw.

Upon hearing you sigh, his eyes fly open. You have the pink dildo in your hand, running it between your saturated folds. Harry pulls on the restraints, wanting to touch you so fucking bad.

“Holy shit.”

You bite your lip, gripping his cock harder. You pull down the zipper, slipping your hand inside. His briefs are wet with arousal and you push past the barrier of them to find his bare cock.

You lean back a little, fully exposing yourself and slipping the tip of the toy lower. His eyes are full of pleading as you slowly push it inside with a soft mewl. Your hand remains on his cock, slowly working the skin.

“Baby-“

“What?” You raise your brow.

“Please, fuck me instead.”

You smirk, slowly shifting your hips as the tip of the toy sits snugly inside of you. You push it in further, your eyes fluttering at the full sensation of it. It’s nowhere near as good as Harry, but you moan like it is.

Harry shifts with a growl, seeing you look so blissful from something other than him driving him mad. His favourite little gasp you make when he first pushes his cock past your tight walls is now ushered because of a fake dick.

You throw your head back, starting to fuck yourself with the toy. So wound up from the entire night. You work the dildo faster, stirring yourself into a frenzy. Not holding back your moans and cries because you can feel how tense Harry is beneath you because of them.

“Fuck, please stop.” He whimpers, so desperate to have you.

You moan loudly. “I’m so close.”

“Please, oh my fucking god. Please, let me fuck you, I can’t take it. I need to make you come. Please. I’ll do anything please just-“

While he rambles, you grab your panties from his pocket and shove them in his mouth, shutting the stream of begs off right at the source. He garbles around the intrusion, pissed off now. You lick your hand and reach behind you, gripping his cock again.

“Be. Good.”

He growls, slamming his head back into the pillow in annoyance. You continue fucking yourself, grinding your hips. The warmth build and tingles in your lower stomach, the toy pressed tight against your g-spot from this angle.

The warmth blooms and spreads, so close to exploding. Your walls clench mercilessly around the dildo and you gasp at the pleasure building hot and fast. Harry can tell that you’re almost there. Tell that he’s worked you up with his mouth and now you’re edging towards the precipice of euphoria.

“Feels so good,” You gasp. “so fucking big, oh shit.”

Harry bucks his hips up, pulling on the restraints around his wrists until it burns. You reach forward, removing the panties from his mouth. As fun as it is to gag him with them, you miss his voice, miss the dirty words that colour it.

“Give me your pussy now.” He snarls.

“Do you deserve my pussy, Harry?”

“Yes,” He hisses. “I’ve been good for you, haven’t I? Now untie me so I can fuck you.”

“No.”

Harry swears loudly, pulling on the ropes and you’re sure he’s about to break through them. But then he relaxes to glare at you, his nostrils flaring.

“You’re in big trouble, little fox.”

You fuck yourself harder, unfazed. “I’m sure I am.”

“You know that as soon as you untie me I’m going to fucking ruin you, don’t you?”

The threatening promise sets you off, your orgasm hitting you so hard you almost collapse at the pleasure of it, crying out his name. Your vision is blurred, tiny white dots clouding it. You remove the toy just as a burst of clear liquid from your cunt paints Harry’s chest and face.

Harry’s jaw drops as it hits him, his eyes narrowed at your expression. You look gorgeous when you come and from this angle, he can see everything. Feel it as it wets him.

“Fucking shit.” He hisses, surprised that he didn’t just come because of what is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You come around quickly, stripping off his shoes and jeans before shifting to settle between his legs. He calls your name as you take his cock in your hand before quickly swallowing him. He grits his teeth, so fucking close to exploding down your throat.

“Untie me.”

Your eyes twinkle with mischief, taking him deeper. Your hand plays with his balls, rolling them in your palm gently. Harry throws his head back, his ears ringing. He snaps his head back up, seeing his glistening chest painted in your orgasm.

And then he feels something circle his ass, nudging very carefully at his rare entrance. The toy. Saturated in your wetness, now about to be used on him. Just the idea of it has his balls pulling up tight and his entire body tingling. If you progress further, he’ll finish before you even get started.

“No, no you naughty little- fuck!”

His cock is tucked snugly down your throat, the sensation unreal as you gag around him. You continue to tease him with the toy and he just about loses it.

“Baby, you gotta stop. I’m right there, fucking stop.”

He starts to almost panic, not sensing you slow down at all. Almost as if possessed, he flexes every muscle in his arms and rips right through the rope restraining his wrists. You jump up in shock, standing at the edge of the bed.

You’re not able to get far as he grips you by your throat and presses his forehead against yours. His chest is heaving as he pushes through his aggression.

“What did I tell you, hm?”

You smirk and it pisses him off further.

His voice is low and dangerous and he grips your throat tighter. “I told you that I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“You’re all talk.” You manage out past the grip of his hand.

His fingers move from your throat to the nape of your neck. He pushes your face towards his glistening chest.

“Dirty fucking girl. Look at the mess you made. Clean me up and then ask me to fuck you.”

You hum, smiling at how filthy he is. You push him back onto the bed, following after him. Your tongue licks up the mess from your orgasm on his chest, up his neck, and his chin. You suck on his tongue, your limbs feeling like jelly and you know you’ll be a mess before he’s even done with you.

“There’s my good girl.”

You want to defy him a little more. You kiss down his chest again, down his toned stomach, and find his navel with your teeth. He hisses out, taking a fistful of your hair. He’s not falling for this again. He needs to fuck you. Now.

He grabs you, flipping you on your stomach and spanking your ass hard. And then again on the other side. You cry out his name, feeling a little disorientated from the change of position and sudden switch of control.

He’s holding the reigns now.

He bites your reddening cheek, growling out and coming to straddle over you. You turn your head to watch him and he shoves your face into the bedding. You can’t even hide your glee, pleased to have successfully riled him up this much.

He spreads your cheeks, slipping his fingers between your folds to feel how wet you are. He cocks his head to the side with a smile before he wraps his hand around your chin, delving three fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, knowing he wants them nice and wet.

Now wet, he spreads the moisture on his fingers along his cock and lines himself up to your cunt.

He pauses, moving his hand from your head so you can turn to look at him. “Say please.”

“Please fuck me.” You whimper.

“Are you done with your little game?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

And then he’s slamming into you so hard you feel winded. He doesn’t stop, pressing into you before retracting. He fucks you into the mattress, his hands anchored on your hips as he takes you. He knows he won’t last long, so overworked from the whole night. Your cunt is wrapped around him so tight and it doesn’t help.

He spreads your cheeks, spitting directly on your ass and he uses his thumb to spread it. You stifle a moan as he massages the tight area before slowly pressing his thumb in. While he’s slow and gentle there, his cock is splitting you in half, shredding an overwhelming euphoria inside of you that he knows how to build so well.

“Fuck, Harry, so good-“

“Yeah? Is this what you want, hm? Want me to get rough with you?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Mm, or did you just wanna play with me? Tie me up, play with that dildo, squirt all over me, leave me all wet. Fucking tease my ass with the toy you made yourself come with.”

“Fuck, yes. I wanted to tease you.”

“Filthy fucking thing. You think daddy will let you play with his ass like that?”

“Yes, daddy.” You breathe out.

“Think again.” He exchanges his thumb for two fingers, slipping them into your ass with ease and matching his rhythm with his cock.

You can feel the pressure in your stomach as he pushes you against the mattress. He’s so out of it, delirious with his need to fuck you until you’re a blubbering mess. You fist the covers, needing to grip something before you lose it. He’s everywhere. On your tongue, in your ass, your pussy, your fucking soul.

You feel like you’re about to come, and Harry curses as your walls clamp around his cock, feels you tighten around his fingers. He pulls out, moving you onto your side and lying behind you. He kisses you, gripping your outer leg to hold it up. He drags you closer, slipping his cock back into your warmth.

“Fuck, dreamy fucking cunt. My favourite, oh shit.” He’s obsessed with how you feel and you can sense that he’s lost all ability to think straight.

With your arm wrapped around his neck, you roll your hips back to meet his thrusts. You’re so wet for him, the slaps in the room of his skin hitting yours growing louder and louder. He grips your wrists in his hand, licking his fingers on his other hand before reaching down to play with your clit.

He’s notorious. Knowing you’re overly sensitive. He pinches it between his fingers, rolling and rubbing it. You careen forward, so overwhelmed and so close to coming. It’ll shatter you, you can just feel it.

Harry flips you onto your back, coming over you and putting your legs on his shoulders. His hands shake as he reconnects with you and starts fucking you so hard you don’t know which way is up. He loves fucking you this way. He can see everything, see your face, see how hard you shake.

You cry out as he places his hand on your abdomen, pressing down until you can feel his cock and the pressure of it.

“You gonna come, sweet fox?”

You nod, tears forming in your eyes at the intensity of him.

“Yeah? Go on, give it to me.” He encourages.

Almost as if it needed permission from him, your body explodes automatically. Wet, tight, toe-curling. Harry admires how fucking beautiful you look when you come. So out of it, spiraling in a world of pleasure that leaves him wetter than your last orgasm.

“Yes,” He hisses out, lightheaded at how tight you are. “good fucking girl.”

You grip his arms, trying to hold onto anything while it feels like you’re floating through nothingness. Your core is unrelenting, sucking him deeper and deeper, pulsing through the aftershocks of your orgasm. Harry groans, releasing your legs and dropping his face into your neck.

His thrusts turn into grinds, wanting to get as deep as possible inside of you. Addicted to how snug you are.

“Fuck, so close.” He rasps. "Dreamy fuckin' pussy. Made for me. Made for my cock, holy shit."

Your fingers tangle into his hair, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your heels dig into his back and your hands pulling his hair adds to the sensation.

“Come, Harry. Please, I need it.”

“F-Fuck, where?”

“Inside me.” Your words are barely a whisper but he hears them loud and clear, encourages him to fuck you harder.

“Yeah? Want daddy to fill you up with his cum?"

"Please,"

"I’ll give you all of it, get you fuckin' pregnant. Make you give us a baby. Fuuuck, I’ll cum in you every fuckin' day until it happens.”

“Fuck, please.” You whimper, so turned on and in awe of what he’s blabbering about.

Harry’s orgasm hits him like a freight train. He doesn’t stop fucking you through it, grinding and screwing up into you. Your walls are painted with thick white ropes of his cum and you gasp at the feeling of how deep he is. He bites down on your neck, moaning your name with a deep growl.

He kisses you for ages after, his cock softening inside you. Your body feels like a live wire, your heart thumping boldly in your chest. Harry gives you a final kiss before retrieving a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you with.

Your frown at his raw wrists, burned from the rope. “They look sore.”

He shrugs, his eyes kind. “Doesn’t hurt that bad. Let me take care of you.”

So, you let him. He always takes care of you. Takes his time to cherish your body, restore it and clean it. Kiss every inch and tell you how much he loves it. He traces your stretch marks, kisses every freckle, soothes every trembling limb.

And, once he’s done, you reciprocate with another cloth. Gentle kisses, even more gentle touches to his wrists. You run your hands through the mess of curls, cuddling him close as you settle under the covers of your golden abode, feeling warm and loved and content.

“I left my soul at The Score.” Harry comments, running his hands up and down your back.

“You fucked mine out of me.”

His chest shakes as he laughs, kissing your forehead with a chuckle. “It was those damn panties. They possessed me.”

You both laugh softly, wrapped up in each other with tranquil heaven that exists wherever your two hearts are connected.

He has diminished any chance of a sullen existence in a sometimes devastating world, a delicate and colourful essence that was made for you. He’s a burst of light, shrouding any ounce of uncertainty. A rush of adenine that makes life worth the rush. The resolute constant that will cradle and cocoon you. He is every adventure and endeavor. And you’re his sidekick till the very end, benevolent and tender-hearted.

Foxy, bubblegum, snow, and cloudy joints. All are facets that encapsulate two souls melding into one inconceivably free entity.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles filth #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #hslot #smut #hes

[fushiglow]

satosugu mailman au 💌

a very special delivery for @kymsys's birthday! how many days will it take for satoru to fall in love with his new mailman? let's find out!!

here's part one for my tumblr pals to enjoy! however, i'll be posting this work over quite a few days over on twitter/x, so please head over there if you want to follow along! if you don't have an account, i'll be uploading the entire thing to my ao3 when it's done — so don't fret ♥️ enjoy the fic!!

There were three things Gojō Satoru loved above all else: sweets, scale model kits, and sleep. He was a simple man in that sense — really, he asked for very little except a healthy supply of sugary treats, the occasional plastic mech, and an undisturbed lie-in seven days a week. So, when the shrill ring of his doorbell wrenched Satoru from a beautiful dream at exactly 8am on a Monday morning? Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased. Now, Satoru wasn’t an unreasonable person. He understood that the rest of the world started moving a little earlier than him — which is why Satoru had taken special measures to protect his precious rest without hindering anyone else. He’d chosen a job that allowed him to work from home, forgone the company of a housemate in favour of living alone, and — most importantly for a hobbyist like Satoru who ordered more kits, paints, and crafting tools than any one person needed — installed a secure parcel drop box outside his front door, preventing the need for anyone to pester him. That’s why Satoru didn’t bother getting out of bed after the first ring, assuming that the person who’d decided to disturb him would eventually figure it out for themselves. Perhaps they were a bit slow though — because less than thirty seconds later, the doorbell came screaming through the house again. Swearing into his pillow, Satoru pulled the duvet up to his ears. All he could do was hope they’d leave quickly so he could snatch at least some sleep in the 45 minutes left until his alarm went off. No such luck. Right when Satoru thought it was safe to relax, the doorbell started up again — and this time, it didn’t stop. With a stream of profanities falling from his lips, Satoru hauled himself out of bed, seeing red as he stomped down the stairs and marched across the hallway to the front door. He flung it open with a frustrated snarl, preparing to share some choice words with the impatient piece of shit on the other side — only for his insults to die on his tongue at the sight of the man standing before him. The broadest shoulders he’d ever laid eyes on; thick arms, tanned and toned; a muscular torso tapering down to a tiny waist — and all packaged in a uniform, for god’s sake. When Satoru finally managed to lift his jaw off the floor, he looked up at the man’s face and the damn thing unhinged from his skull all over again. He was all sharp cheekbones and sunkissed skin and the sweetest smile Satoru had ever seen. Perhaps a little too sweet now that he really looked at it. ‘I think your doorbell is broken.’

Sure, the guy was hot — easily the prettiest person Satoru had ever seen — but that didn’t stop his eye from twitching at the blatant passive aggression masked behind that sickly sweet smile. Satoru matched it with one of his own. ‘I assure you, it’s not.’ ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ Satoru didn't think he seemed sorry in the slightest — even if his voice did sound like melted chocolate. ‘I’ve got a parcel for Gojō Satoru?’ When hot mailman tilted his head to the right, a lock of glossy black hair fell into his face. Too short to secure in his bun and too short to tuck behind his ear, he simply brushed it away from warm eyes the colour of honey. Satoru wondered if every part of him was as gorgeous. ‘It needs a signature.’ Shocked out of his stupor, Satoru's gaze travelled to the box at the right of the door. ’The regular guy always puts them in there.’ Hot mailman simply beamed at him. ‘Do I look like the regular guy to you?’ No, Satoru thought. There’s nothing regular about you. As though he could read minds, hot mailman winked at him. ‘Then I’ll need a signature, please.’ And god — he was so effortlessly charming that, for the first time in his life, Satoru found himself speechless. For a long moment, he simply stood there, gawping like an idiot. When hot mailman eventually quirked an amused eyebrow in his direction, Satoru had no choice but to take the signature pad being waved at him, managing to make a hash of his name before wordlessly handing it back. Having completely and utterly embarrassed himself, Satoru had started to retreat into the safety of his home when a strong hand closed around the edge of the door. Hot mailman popped his head around the side. ‘You forgot your parcel.’ Satoru watched those amber eyes as they slid down the length of his body — and hot mailman's sickly sweet smile morphed into a devilish grin. ‘Your clothes, too.’ Glancing down at himself, Satoru’s heart stopped in his chest when he realised he’d answered the door in nothing but his boxers — and not fitted Calvin Kleins that emphasised what he was working with either. No, the ratty, stretched out Digimon boxers he’d owned since he was 17. With a mortified squeak, Satoru snatched the parcel from hot mailman’s hands and slammed the door in his face, uncaring of whether his stupid bangs got caught in the doorframe. Tossing the package onto the floor, Satoru brought his palms to his rapidly heating cheeks, taking a moment to stare into the silence of his hallway. Then, he summoned all the air in his lungs and let out the single loudest ‘fuck!’ he’d ever produced. Hot mailman’s beautiful laughter travelled down the entire length of the driveway.

#hbd my love!! 🫰 #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fic #gojo satoru #geto suguru #sugusato #stsg #sgst #五夏 #夏五 #goge #gego #呪術廻戦 #my writing #fushiglow

[one-squash-one-end]

An unhinged recap of Ronan's homosexuality

Hi! This once again belongs to my big Raven Cycle analysis, click here for the masterpost.

Again, there's not much room for speculation here, but i had to write it for completionist purposes. I apologize for certain metaphores used, for the most part when I was writing this I was going through it (brain was fried).

Here u go (also spoilers for Greywaren)

d) Ronan Lynch

Next to Adam, Ronan is the only other canonically queer person in the Gangsey. A flaming homosexual with a car fetish (because there was something unbelievably sexy about cars at night). Ronan is the original Be Gay, Do Crime. (Adam is the Be Crime, Do Gay to that.)

You get the gist; he is seriously involved with one guy but used to have some bits of self discovery (not only on the topic of his sexuality) with another, which ended because that guy kidnapped his brother because despite being gay, Ronan unbelievably was not into him. I’m sorry, I really do not want to dissect the entirety of Pynch in here, that would go way too far and I bet there are so many people who could do and have done this better than I ever could, so I’ll stick to elaborating some more on how we find out that he is gay, considering I think he doesn’t say the word until Call Down The Hawk.

In the first book, Ronan does not get a pov, maybe because Maggie needed some more time to figure out how to make a character subtly and thirst over another character in a secret and homosexual way. Still we get some small hints, based on conversations with other characters, or just his behavior in general.

Gansey: “From now on I need all of us to be straight with one another” Ronan: “I’m always straight” Adam: “oh man that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told” This, of course, is legendary. Ronan is gay, he jokes about it, Adam knows it. I genuinely cannot tell whether Ronan had come out to his friends, whether he just did it through jokes like this etc. If the latter is the case, I honestly doubt that Gansey would have known, as oblivious as he is.

We also have the case study of Declan and his Ashleys. Ronan seems to despise the heterosexual standards that his brother portrays, but it is not clear whether that’s because of heterosexuality, or because of Declan, because let’s be honest, in book one, Ronan would hate, absolutely hate, anyone Declan dates out of principle, because Declan’s just a bitch, or a manwhore, as Gansey would say.

Then it gradually all becomes very much obvious in The Dream Thieves. We got the parallels with religion, his nightmares (his night horrors/self-hate maybe being because of internalized homophobia?) and of course the secrets. The secrets you keep from yourself, the very obvious metaphor. Plus Kavinsky literally calls him the f-slur. You will very easily pick up on that if you’re not as oblivious as I was when I first read the book (I was in my Declan Lynch era with a tummy-ache ok?), but it is explicitly resolved in the epilogue. There is no more room left for ambiguity, thank you Maggie for ending the queer speculation yourself, within the book.

Then there’s gender, of course there’s gender. Gender is like Tad Carruthers, just always materializing out of nowhere, especially when you just want to stay away from it because it’s fake and a massive bitch.

Ronan definitely identifies as male, but if you look at this a certain way he is somehow trans or defies the entire concept of gender either way, considering he is a supernatural being, spirit, entity, that was just socialized as a boy. Ronan is like Cabeswater, or Lindenmere, which both don’t have a gender, obviously, they are forests. The Greywaren is often referred to as an “it”, which makes sense when people don’t know the Greywaren is human, but something about the entire thing smells very trans rights to me. Also that eldritch horror, not quite human at all,  jumble of dark matter thing in Greywaren was just so gender of him.

Ronan would wear a crop top, there’s no doubt to me.

#still sorry about tad carruthers #ronan lynch #adam parrish #the raven cycle #trc #the raven boys #the dream thieves #the raven king #blue lily lily blue #greywaren #greywaren spoilers #the dreamer trilogy