september 8, 2022

YES SHE DID

me, a supposed writer, when i can’t find the very specific scenario i made up in my head in any fanfic: am i- am i supposed to write it myself??

scandals & handcuffs; burning altars

eddie munson x reader

summary: it’s summer and eddie’s bored out of his mind. and while he spits out mindless questions, clarifying gossip and racy expeditions, eddie finds himself indulging you (and your touch, scent, kisses)

word count: 5, 297

warnings: explicit ones below the cut!

a/n: i know i already posted yesterday (here), but i finished this one early and i wanted to post it. hope you all filthy whores indulge in this eddie smut. mwah mwah

MASTERLIST

explicit warnings: poorly written smut, bondage ft. handcuffs and bandana, soft!dom eddie, cumplay, unprotected sex (practice safe sex!), cumplay, praise kink, multiple orgasms, biting, tongue fucking, cum eating, oral (fem receiving), rough sex, squirting, and short aftercare <3

Lost and Found - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 1)

WC: 4.3K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Just your luck, you get dress coded on your first day at Hawkins High. You're already ridiculed for being the senior transfer, and now on top of that, the only shirt that covers you up in the lost and found belongs to the school freak.

Contents/Warnings: reader wears eddie's shirt, reader gets bullied, lots of teasing, slight innuendos/suggestive material

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You must have set a new school record: You’ve only been attending Hawkins High for three hours, and you’ve already been dress coded. Apparently your shirt is too low-cut, even though it barely dips below your collarbones, and you were ordered to look through the lost-and-found for a suitable cover-up. 

It could be worse, you muse, as you sort through the box of slightly aromatic, ratty, dusty clothes, they could have put it on your school record. Though, as a senior transferring to the school for one last year, you don’t care what’s on your record. They could hate you, for all you care, as long as you graduate. It’s not like you’ll ever have to deal with them again.

Unfortunately, it looks like everything in the box before you is either three sizes too big, or three sizes too small. The beaded tank top that you pull out near the bottom is even worse than your shirt, and you guarantee it wouldn’t go over well with faculty. There’s a winter coat in the mix, but summer still clogs the air with sticky heat, and you refuse to cover yourself up with that. After sorting through the bin for almost five minutes, the only thing even remotely suitable for you is a baseball tee that looks like it’s homemade.

It’s a white shirt with black sleeves, and a ring around the neck. It’s certainly interesting. There’s a red devil on the front, horns protruding eerily from its head, and weapons frame its face, ready for battle. Then two multifaceted dice are poised below the text, numbers etched into their faces.

The bold black text over the picture reads ‘HELLFIRE CLUB,’ and it stinks of what you’re suspicious is weed. You’re not sure what the Hellfire Club is, you presume it’s an underground band of some sort, but you don’t have time to figure it out. There’s a red stain on the chest, what you presume (and pray) is spaghetti sauce, but it’s your best bet in the lost and found bin, so you slip it on and hope that they’ll let you go without any further incident.

Thankfully it’s lunchtime, so when you slip out of the office mostly unnoticed, the shirt resting rather comfortably over your frame, you make a beeline for the cafeteria. You get stares, odd murmurs thrown about you as you walk down the line, people from packed tables squinting oddly at your shirt. You can’t really blame them, either, because you’d squint at it too if you’d seen it on someone else. You’re already silently resigning yourself to being The New Kid when you sit down on the ground, the tables either full or sending you funny glances when you try to sit down with them.

The first thing you do is pull out a walkman and headphones. They slip comfortably over your ears, shielding you from the disheartening whispers thrown around about you. You’re absolutely certain that this is going to damage your reputation, on Day One no less, but what are you supposed to do? Your only option is this stupid shirt: damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

You bury yourself in your lunch, though it’s not appealing. Coleslaw oozes messily around your plate, and you try pushing your fries out of the way, but it’s too late. They’re soaked, and you’ve lost your appetite. You push the tray away from you, and it sits there sadly on the ground. You dig a book out from your backpack, letting your eyes skim over the words instead of the people around you.

--

“Eddie,” Dustin is out of breath when he sits down, too excited to inform his friend of the strange thing he’d managed to witness in the lunch line to think about breathing, “Eddie, the new kid’s wearing a Hellfire shirt!”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he munches thoughtfully on a pretzel, “You’re out of your mind, Henderson.”

“No! No,” He shakes his head, “Honest! Look,” He points to you, the text over the devil on your shirt clear as day over your book, “I saw ‘em on my way back from class! They just walked in with it.” He lets out a breathy laugh, “Do you think it’s catching on? Like, you think there’s more than just us? Do you think there’s members all around the world?!”

“Dumbass,” Jeff swats at the back of Dustin’s head, “How could it be catching on, no one knows about it but us.”

“Maybe they-“ Dustin is eager to elaborate on his theory, prepared to make up some hair-brained theory as to how the transfer student could have heard about Hellfire outside of Hawkins, but Eddie’s eyes narrow as he stares at you, and he waves a hand at Dustin, effectively silencing the boy.

“There’s a stain there. On the left.” He recognizes the messy splotch, his face twisting in indignance, “That’s my shirt!”

“I thought you lost that one,” Mike frowns, his hair hanging over his face, “How’d she get it?”

“I dunno,” Eddie stands abruptly, tossing his bag of trail mix to the table and tugging his jacket determinedly around his shoulders, “But I’m gonna find out.”

✨ Eddie Munson + Details Part 1 ✨

One guy’s hilarious post is exactly how we all feel about this photo of Obama, Trudeau, and Mexican president Enrique Peña Nieto. 

date of origin: 1st of july, 2016.

Ship Gazing via PixelArt

pairing; tsukishima kei x afab!reader

summary; Do you know that he can hear you from his room? That his ears perk up to the muffled sound of you sliding open your bedside drawer, and he’s nearly jumping into bed in anticipation of what comes next?

warnings/tags; MINORS DNI 18+! NSFW! timeskip!tsukki, friends to roommates to lovers, PWP, smut, male masturbation, oral f!receiving, fingering, vibrator/toy play, slight voyeurism

wc; 4.3k+ (sorry)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The walls of this apartment were much too thin.

Tsukishima’s never really noticed this before, not in the past six months of living at the damn place.

He’d specifically chosen this unit for the second bedroom, having every intention of using it as office space, or a place for storage. He figured he’d hang some shelves, decorate the walls with a few portraits he’d picked up over the years, and imagined the kind of desk he’d have sitting on the corner beside the window (a standing one, he thought).

Apparently, you had completely different plans.

It wasn’t easy for you to get him to agree, not by a long shot. It took weeks of wearing down on his defenses, using every single tactic you could think of.

“Come on, Tsukishima! We’ve been friends for years, you know I’d be a good roommate.”

“I swear I’ll cook dinner for you every week! You’ll never have to buy takeout again!”

“Please, Tsukishima? I just don’t want to be alone.”

It was the way you had said that last sentence that truly got to Tsukishima. You’d been cutesy in all your attempts prior, always adding a dramatic bat of the eyelashes or an exaggerated giggle. But this time, you couldn’t meet his eyes, shuffling your feet as you barely muttered out the last word, and it was this that made Tsukishima pinch at the bridge of his nose and sigh.

Of course you can move in.

You were his best friend, weren’t you?

That Boy Is A Real Pussy Pleaser

Matsukawa, Atsumu, Tendou, Tsukishima, Ushijima when their s/o sits on their face. 

Matsukawa Issei x Reader

Miya Atsumu x Reader

Tendou Satori x Reader

Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

A/N: This is all I have to offer today,,, I was just in a silly goofy mood and thought hmmm hmmm! Face-sitting with the besties!!! This is sooo much crack bc I wrote this during a thunderstorm while being scared shitless so…. muah, pls try to enjoy! 

VERY SMUTTYYYYY // NSFW !!!

WC-3,339 (I cannot believe how long I made this)

~~~

Seguir leyendo

Nanami’s Secret Wife

**** HEAVY JJK MANGA SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT ****

Nanami likes to keep his home life and work life separate, so of course his best friend Gojo knows nothing about him having a secret wife.

Seguir leyendo

And We Shatter

No, things were not getting out of hand.

That was exactly the same mantra you kept on repeating and repeating and repeating ever since the day of Gojo’s sealing happened. It was the same life-saving mantra that kept your gradually slipping sanity in place. It has been weeks since Gojo had been kept here in his room after that unfortunate event. It was a miscalculation on his part, but no one had expected Geto to pull a trick like that and lock Gojo inside his own body. 

You had all been playing into his hands, after all. 

You turned to spare your fiancé another look of dismay—so strong, but also so helpless. You willed him to snap out of his comatose state and just stand up to kiss you again. You would be dreaming if that happened.

Someone called your name.

Your head snapped awfully fast to Gojo’s. You heard him! He was finally awake, like you were imagining just now and—

“Aren’t you going to eat yet?”

—it wasn’t his voice.

 A frown taking its form on your face, you turned to the direction of the voice as your lips curled downwards to a pout. 

Nanami was as supportive as he could be, and you were willing to bet that if he wasn’t around, then you would have lost your mind already. Because of your increasing distress, however, you find his constant reminders exhausting.

“I’m not hungry,” you sighed impatiently, burying your hand in your tangled hair, “If you are, because I’m sure you are, then go eat without me.”

Don’t toy with me Miss Nagatoro AU with Senpai! Nanami x Kohai! Reader‼️ 😩

sin city wasn’t made for you (angels like you)

; summary

; stats

; links

; music

; author’s note

Gojou Satoru 

“He’s a Dork by the Way” (mafia!au x mafia!reader  | drabble  | fluff, flirting) 

— A successful mission deserves a drink, and as you stood behind the bar, you realized that there were two drinks to serve instead of one. 

Re:frain (fluff, comfort, slight slight nsfw (a heated kiss!)  | humor ) 

— Dating a sorcerer includes limited quality time, but somehow…it makes spending time together even more special and magical. 

© mooncademia. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.

pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader

warnings: none really, angst and fluff!

word count: 1.3k+

a/n: hey y'all! here's chapter three of absolute girlfriend!! im a little iffy on it but i think i got done what i wanted, so tell me what you think!

part one | part two | part three

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What do you mean you lost her?”

“I didn’t lose her, she ran away!”

Nanami holds his phone to his ear, his other hand occupied shielding his head with his umbrella while he looks around the quiet streets of Tokyo. After the initial shock of you running out he’d called Gojo, completely unaware of how to handle this situation, and of course the sorcerer’s first move was to tease him.

And We Shatter

No, things were not getting out of hand.

That was exactly the same mantra you kept on repeating and repeating and repeating ever since the day of Gojo’s sealing happened. It was the same life-saving mantra that kept your gradually slipping sanity in place. It has been weeks since Gojo had been kept here in his room after that unfortunate event. It was a miscalculation on his part, but no one had expected Geto to pull a trick like that and lock Gojo inside his own body. 

You had all been playing into his hands, after all. 

You turned to spare your fiancé another look of dismay—so strong, but also so helpless. You willed him to snap out of his comatose state and just stand up to kiss you again. You would be dreaming if that happened.

Someone called your name.

Your head snapped awfully fast to Gojo’s. You heard him! He was finally awake, like you were imagining just now and—

“Aren’t you going to eat yet?”

—it wasn’t his voice.

 A frown taking its form on your face, you turned to the direction of the voice as your lips curled downwards to a pout. 

Nanami was as supportive as he could be, and you were willing to bet that if he wasn’t around, then you would have lost your mind already. Because of your increasing distress, however, you find his constant reminders exhausting.

“I’m not hungry,” you sighed impatiently, burying your hand in your tangled hair, “If you are, because I’m sure you are, then go eat without me.”