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sluttysanemi · 4 months

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𓆩. ⛧ .𓆪 — BAR BLISS. xoxo ’

Sanemi Shinazugawa x AFAB!Reader

c/w: out of character sanemi, fluff, pussy whipped sanemi (lol), sexual tension, ass slapping, flirting, smut, sort of fast paced dont bite my head off, oral (f!receiving), spit as lube, unprotected sex, responsible drinking

a/n: repost cuz its jst... not getting posted lol?? 5.2k words, smut at end!

A soft, dimly lit tavern- a warm glow casting a sense of intimacy. The acquainted aroma of ale, and exotic gin stenches the hostelry, followed with a captivating ambience. The inviting atmosphere charmed with lively music rendered the establishment to grow fairly populous.

Perched at the high tables, closely to the bartender, you gazed upon the assortment of drinks displayed within the umber coloured shelves. A pleasant evening it had held; you decide to indulge yourself to a sweetening cocktail. Expressing your polite solicit to the employee, you await patiently; once more engaging in the scenery amongst. You sat with only yourself, pondering idly. Along the valley of tidily arranged stools, none that sat upon particularly captured your interest. Ignoring the mild loneliness that echoed, you rather dwelled on loosening yourself.

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With a short passing of time, your drink was presented. You mumbled a soft gratitude, and took a brief sip. The vibrant, tropical flavor lingering mildly, accompanying a pleasant after-taste. Whilst firming the spherical glass upon the table, a new presence accompanied. His peculiar fragrance of sandalwood, amber, and a savoury trace of tobacco swiftly caught your attention and coated the air with opulent pleasure. As if hearing your trailing thoughts of intrigue, he sat beside, upon the neighbouring stool.

You peered from the corner of your eye. His diverting scent drew a captivating allure.

Upon the abutting seat, a tall man of a lean, muscular build sat. With jagged, ivory hair, resting closely with the purple shade of his eyes. His figure was cluttered with ragged scars, the firm muscles of his body displayed proudly. A kanji meaning "kill", menacing and bold, emblazoned on the back of his long-sleeved haori followed with white buckles and the nature-coloured katana, painted with uneven dashes of white, resembling closely to his personal scars. This was certainly a sight you did not catch often…

He held a solemn expression, his gaze focused in front, though once he caught vision of whom he’d sat beside, it was as if his eyes expressed what his mouth did not. Tranced by your features; What a pretty face, such a gorgeous woman…

He passed a charming smile to you, as though he were silently indicating his interest, and ordered himself a whiskey.

Quickly poured, the amber liquor- settled within a low glass- is placed in front. Clear cubes of ice float highly. He reaches within his green tinted hakama pants, whilst you stared elsewhere.

“Want one, sweet thing?”, he spoke abruptly.

Pointing your sight to him once more, you watched as his sturdy hand held towards you an open packet of cigarettes. You grinned, rather amused by his braze attitude.

“Thank you.”, you replied kindly, plucking the narrow cylinder from the package. He excused himself to one and sealed the box, resuming its place with a lighter.

“Get close.”, he voiced with firm authority. Following, you leaned, noting closely his obscure musk scent. The leading edges of your shared cigarettes met as he held the ochre flame beneath. You stared as the vibrant glow followed towards the tab, silver emissions effused, and the newly invited fragrance of burnt tobacco evades.

Sighing glumly, he inhales deeply of the throat-clogging nicotine. He focuses on you, watching you with a linger of fascination.

“Like ‘yer eyes. They’re a real pretty colour.”, he remarked affably.

You smiled softly towards his admiration. “I like the scars. They complement nicely to your body.”, you replied simply, slowly intaking the flow of tobacco bodying the cigarette.

He sneers, evidently pleased. “Ye like them do ya, sweet thing? My body too?”, taunting you with your own words. You nod.

“You always such a pleasant show off?”, you asked, cocking an observant eyebrow. He swiftly drinks the bitter intoxicant, replying shortly. “For a lovely sight like you, might as well be.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

An invited silence stretches, whilst he shifts subtly- growing closer. “What’s your name then, sweet thing?”, he asks. You answered his query, gaining a soft grunt in his response. “Sanemi.”, he followed.

“Sanemi.”, you repeated, letting his name marinate within the moment. He purrs in response; a groan of approval. “Like the way ‘ye say it, pretty face.”

“You from here?”, you inquired, studying his expression. He watched you subtly, yet closely. You certainly had his interest. He shakes his head. “Not ‘round here. Was only ‘ere for my job. I’ll be gone by the morning.”, Sanemi inhaled from his cigarette once more, an excrement of smoke escaping the shine of his lips. You hummed in reply. “Thought you stood out. Is your job the premise for the katana, then?” He nods.

“Gotta fight really screwed shit with it. It sort of fucks you over. ‘ye’re not the same after.”, his voice somewhat reminiscent.

You watched at his expression momentarily, a comfortable silence whilst pursing your lips along the nicotine-coated cylinder, drawing in another drag.

“Good money?”, you questioned. He snickers, almost in disbelief.

“Real good money, baby. You like a man with cash?”, Sanemi pursued, his voice a sultry tone. You chuckle in his flirtations. “Perhaps. It makes for good compensation.”

He smiled, his grin tempting, as if he wished to glamor you. “Compensation, aye?”, he snickered. “You with a man then?” He inquired, abruptly shifting the subject. Like he was deeply curious to know…

His forward, careless confidence was alluring. You wished to tease him..“Why? Are you interested?”, she purred, purposely avoiding his advances. You were luring him, and tormentingly so… Sanemi rolled his eyes, unamused by the ingenous act. “You’re torturing me… your taunting could drive this man to murder.”, he whined lowly. He leans over and covers the back of your hand with his calloused palm. Sanemi’s skin was firm, almost abrasive. You could feel it softly skimming, caressing. “Do tell, sweet thing… i think ‘ye pretty face is really grownin’ on me.”

“Just my pretty face?”

“‘Ye voice too. Wanna hear it whine my name all night long.”

You purr a soft chuckle at his bold innuendo, though intrigued. “I suppose I’m available.” You spoke vaguely, though your reply struck a pleased grin. His fingers trailed thin circles along your wrists.

Your hand moved to the cocktail promptly forgotten upon the table. As you raise the glass to your lips once more, you observe Sanemi savouring, indulging in your beauty the same manner you had with your drink.

“Never seen a man stare at me so intently.”, you comment observantly.

“There’ll never be a man as worthy as me to do so.”

You laid a hand on his again, your fingers subtly intertwining. He felt warm; his touch delicate. Sanemi takes your dainty hand, and presses it gently to his lips. He presses swift, continuous kisses to the very tip of your middle finger. Your ethereal beauty left him aghast. He’d known there wouldn’t be another woman so entirely heavenly.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Time was clear to be surreal. He delved into the vastness of your thoughts and emotions. He was apparent to want to truly know you, to connect on more intimate levels than shallow conversation.

His clear need for closure was overly evident. His touch vividly intimate.

It had only been so long until he asked.

“Can I take you home tonight, sweet thing?”

His voice oozed with erotic ecstasy.

“Don’t you want me? I wished ‘ye knew how bad I craved you, pretty…”

His thumb would trace over your bottom lip, eyeing you greedily. It seemed as though he was tormenting himself. Awaiting a possibility to delicately press his lips against yours, feel the soft warmth of your skin, and be submerged in your gentle light. An untamed bliss.

It felt unreal as he guided you attentively through the darkened streets, explicitly keeping you close.

It felt of an overwhelming wave of intrigue as he held the door of a swiftly seized cab, observing your body’s sensual movement.

It felt of ecstasy as he sat close to you, tenderly tracing his fingertips across your thigh.

His fingers slid with precision, caressing until the very apex before manoeuvring down. Twisting inward and tracing sensual patterns on your flesh, his touch sent feverish sensations through your spine. The electric experience left you yearning more, as he began to explore every inch of your body with tantalizing detail, skimming into the interstitial crescents within.

Reciprocating his toy, you place the flat of your hand to the side of his face, drawing him into your gaze. You lean into the crook of his neck and begin trailing provocative kisses, leaving lipstick prints to remain. Lust thickens the atmosphere as desire suffocates; need floods your bodies.

Groaning in exhilaration to your temptations, he tightens his grasp around your thigh. Heavy waves of his breath fall from his chest. “Don’t do that, pretty girl…”, he warned, feeling buried in the terror of your beauty. Sanemi had lost himself more in your sight than he ever had in alcohol.

“I think you like it…”, you retort boldly, your tone flows with arrogance.

He rests his palm on the side of your face, lightly gripping. He peered at you closely, undressing you with his eyes. A faint sigh escaped his lips.

“More than you’ll ever know…”, Sanemi answered passionately. His opposing hand runs higher along your leg, drawing you up to his lap. It skims under your clothing to the fat on your rear. He squeezes hungrily before delivering the flesh a soft slap, humming softly at the delicate echo that followed. Your lips in tantalizing close distance, glaring at the other ardently.

The city lights reflected within the car, providing an idyllic setting. All the more incentive to pursue undisclosed desires.

Sanemi’s thumb would trail over your cheek, drawing in the moment. His breath, a stutter. “Fuck, sweet girl… look at’cha baby… your pretty eyes are gettin’ me needy.”, he spoke in slow detail. Your foreheads were held together close, your shared scents harmonizing.He gently cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. Their eyes locked, communicating a depth of emotions that words struggled to convey. As he leaned in, a gentle breeze stirred, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

Time seemed to slow as their lips finally met, a tender connection that sent ripples through their beings. His taste almost stung, strong with liquor, though resolutely appealing. Sanemi’s touch was feather-light, an exploration of the softness and warmth that made your heart flutter. Your eyes closed, savouring the delicate dance of their breaths becoming one.The kiss unfolded like a carefully composed melody, each moment an exquisite note in their symphony of shared emotions. His lips moved with a soft reverence, as if every caress held an unspoken promise. You responded, your own touch mirroring the tenderness you both craved.

The moon bore witness to their silent exchange, a celestial witness to a kiss that spoke volumes of love, longing, and the beauty of connection.Passion bloomed, becoming sinful, and greed infested the tender scenery. He grew relentless, gripping you needily, animalistically, blinded by his cravings. He was straining to remain composed and not strip you in the confines of the vehicle. He parts from your kiss momentarily.

“Tell me ‘ye need me, sweet girl. Drive me wild with that honey voice ‘ye got.”, he voiced, almost pleading.He moves to your neck, following your previous pursuit with firm kisses. He continuously caresses your thigh as well as firmly grasping at the soft skin of your ass.

“Need you, sanemi. Need you so bad.”, you whisper delicately; the words you spoke carry a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, resulting in Sanemi’s heart to ripple violently. He hums a breath of relief.

“Fuck…yes you do, sweet thing.”, his tone is low, caressing the intersections of your body. His lips travel to your cleavage, nipping the skin delicately. Soft prints flushing the skin remained. He glanced up at you briefly, craving. He longed to catch your essence and indulge as much of your elegance as he could. You followed, capturing in his glare. You looked at the gentle glimmer on his lips, the flush on his cheeks, and the sole euphoria expressed in his eyes. You grew enveloped in his luring expression…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Struggling to leave whole from the confinements of the car, you quickly travel to the hotel, passed to Sanemi’s momentary stay. It held rather lavishly, giving an almost luxurious appearance. He pressed feverishly onto the elevator's control, as if it were a panacea to a speedier arrival. His hand was almost entirely bound to your hip, and he was bitter to move it elsewhere. He was wildly near to seeing your nude grace. If only it would arrive faster… Sanemi grew partially frustrated.

The elevators eventually emerged, much to Sanemi's relief, thus he reacted quickly. He draws you against the room's iron walls, pressing his lips to yours again. The intense atmosphere has heightened. He placed his hand on your cheek, running down your neck. His available hand moves to your thigh and sets it firmly on his hip.

Your fingers are tangled in his silvery curls. Feeling the softness of his hair against your skin; the scent of his shampoo, a subtle mint, fills your senses, enhancing the intoxicating experience. Sanemi’s fingers trail to the inwards, intimate, spaces curved within your thighs. His calloused digits trail to the thin fabric layered over your clit, rubbing attentively; feeling the familiar warmth of arousal pool. He grins.

“Dirty girl…”, his words escape with a purr. His body presses against you more fiercely, the prominent bulge restrained in his trousers, growing in excitement, taunting you. Sanemi grinds his hips subtly, as if attempting to find relief in his heat. He groans aloud in alleviation, yet buries his head against the crook of your neck, trying to conceal his escaping pants of pleasure.

“Sweet girl… gonna fuck your pretty pussy so hard, baby.”

The lift rises and approaches the near top. The door glides open, exhibiting the sexual scenery to the empty corridor. He guides you by your hip to his room, attempting to pry his jumbled keys out of his pockets. With quivering, eager fingers, he eventually fits the key into the narrow gap, clicking it in place and pushing the door widely.

He's leading you into the room, flimsily locking, and conclusively inviting you into his bedroom. Beneath his sheets. He kisses you anew, gently guiding you to the outermost edge of his bed. Now he had time.

And he will make every effort to pursue it efficiently.

He's fervently pressing his pursed lips against your neck and gradually lowering to your thighs. He sits on his knees, taking your leg, and placing it over the firm of his shoulder. The salacious position provides Sanemi easier access into elation. His hands lift the hems of your dress upward, exposing you to him further. Feeling a silent obligation, you part your legs a further distance, eliciting an approving groan from the silver-haired man. “What a sweet mess…”, he coos.

He plants gentle pecks within the flesh of your inner thigh, his palm caressing the outskirts. You grasp the sheets with utmost thrill, watching Sanemi delve into the depths of your body. Your chest languidly rises and falls, attempting to compose. His hold discreetly attempts to press your body closer; his face gently pressing against the supple silk of your undergarments. He kisses the soft slit over the cloth, followed by tender suckling. Maneuvering to the supple inner skin of your legs once more, he continuously developed tension.

"Sanemi...," you pleaded, grasping his white hair again. He was belittling you, and it was harrowing... He peers above at you once again, an illicit smile plastered proudly on his face. “Don’t worry, sweet girl… I'll give you whatever you want."

His thumb links under the linen's corner strings and begins to tug in a slow, tantalizing movement. He peels the enticing attire to the floor and discards it. He delves into the supple flesh gently, trailing his tongue along the sensitive lips carefully. Your grip tightens, as a sudden surge of bliss arises. The pink muscle strays flat, as it caresses constantly over your clit. Maneuvering in a sensual, attentive rhythm. Vulgar murmurs pour as he gathers your arousal.

Sanemi's tongue glides delicately, occasionally delving within. He moves his head, ensuring to act attentively to your needs. Licking sensuous stripes over your slit, exploring various paces. Your carnal nectar developed into a gratifying addiction, which he merely drank wildly.

A slew of his name eludes from your lips, your urgent entail for him eliciting a groan. His voice sent pulses of thrill through you, and your muscles tensed.

His hold tightens upon your thigh, and he puckers his lips, suckling the soft slit delicately. His tongue consistently glides over, providing surplus ripples of ecstasy. He fulfills your carnal wishes, eager to satisfy you. Your sickly whines filled him with elation, feeling the arousal within him swallow him entirely.

His tongue traced along your amorous lips, creating ripples of a wet, erotic echo to follow. He quickly swallowed what he had gathered, savoring its taste. He demolished the thought of breathing while delving between your legs.

He lowers his face farther into your glistening cunt, his scarred hand massaging your outer thigh whilst. He twists his sensitive tongue and thrusts it repeatedly. You imitated his penetrations, grinding desperately against him. Tipping your head slightly backwards, blinded by euphoria.

“Please, Sanemi… please.”, you begged mindlessly.

“Yeah? You like that, pretty girl?” He purred, his voice immensely sultry.

His tongue thoughtlessly plunges into and out sloppily, culminating in shambles of pure bliss. He revered the way your thighs quiver eagerly, your fingers grasping him sterner, more desperately. He drank your sweet chirps of joy as if your voice alone produced ripplets of dopamine. There was not a honey poured in wine more pleasurable than the one produced by your trance.

His rose-coloured lingua traveled into the inner depths of your core, his nose pressed against the very delicate pearl of your intimacy. It squirmed, and twitched within. He broke momentarily, sighing against your fold. He took a moment to breathe briefly.

“Sweet girl...”, he kissed daintily.

You brush your fingers over his pale locks whilst marveling at him. He watched you, almost lovingly. Your fingertips were of silk. His expression softens, and an unexpected pink tinge faintly washes his face.

He grunts softly into your throbbing core, before immersing himself once more. He was an alcoholic in your lust. His pulsing yearning became overwhelming; he needed you. To immerse himself entirely in you and to feel your sweetening warmth envelope him most intimately. He grew gluttonous; hungry to have you to himself.

Your glance, your elegant eyelashes, fluttering so delicately. It drove him mad. You had looked so delectable, it plunged him deeper into thirst. Thirst to hear your voice whine to his name. Thirst to take you to unending depths of happiness, so you'll never find a man more deserving than him. Could there really be? For a woman as ravishing as you? He craves to hear you further.

He continues to fuck you mercilessly with his tongue. His nails, while blunt, sink into the crescents of your thighs and press against your flesh. They leave a tender bruise painted upon your thigh. He groans with deeper delight, content to have left his imprint on you.

His pink muscle is saturated in slick, and he continues to lap hungrily, avidly, greedy to reach you to that high. You became wanting. Thighs clenching, thoughtlessly rubbing. So close to heavenly’s peak. His echoing stimuli urging you towards your climax. You experienced a sensuous pulse string across your body, contracting irrationally. You tugged on his hair, seeking it further. Your breath struggles to maintain a fluent pace.

“That’s it, sweet thing. So good f’me…”

Your back arches, and an indescribable rush pours from you. It immerses you in a familiar sense of utopia, yet only considerably deeper. Out of this world, as if no troubles existed. A sensual warmth trails from your body, which Sanemi keenly tastes.

You take a moment to absorb within this reality once more, observing Sanemi's tongue gliding over his lips, clearing the remnants of your pleasure. He breathes softly into your throbbing cunt before placing a final, delicate kiss.

"D'you want me, pretty thing?" he asked, his face resting briefly on your thigh.

You nod calmly, your fingers caressing him. Sanemi smiles sweetly, pressing a kiss upon your skin. It was apparent that he thoroughly enjoyed you. When you touched, caressed. Even when you spoke. He was overjoyed to finally have you.

He rises to his full height. He leaned over and observed you lustfully. His palm rests on the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek. He moves the tips of his fingers diligently across your body. You can feel his touch pulsating within you.

His fingers crook, under the straps of your attire, slowly peeling it from your shoulders. He sighs deeply, unable to suppress his overt excitement. His touch is, however, delicate. His hands glide along your body, as he undresses you carefully. Squeezing the newly found skin with a certain care. He was admiring.

Leaving your garments across the floor, your body was left bare. The moon shone against, giving you a nearly angelic beauty.

“Oh, sweet thing…”, Sanemi whispers, enthralled. He cups your face and leans in to kiss you. The faint imprint of your prior high stays on his tongue.

Whining softly against each other, he quickly grew inflamed. He moves forward and positions himself on top of you, upon the bed. He softly brings you to the plush cushioning at the back, following as you slowly manoeuvre back. His free hand flows to the white buckles around his waist slowly sliding it off. It clicks quietly before it’s thrown thoughtlessly.

You supported him whilst he undressed, stroking your fingertips along his shoulders and slipping his uniform from his sculpted body. Watching as he offered himself to you without a sense of guilt.

Soon, he'd lay in only briefs, which scarcely concealed his arousal as it rubbed against your glistening folds, throbbing uncontrollably. His bare chest, gleaming in droplets of sweat, is marred in piercing scars. With bulging pectorals carved into a definite contour. His back, firm with strong ridges, as if in invitation to be touched. He was the embodiment of beauty. And he was to lay with you.

His hand supported his imposing physique as he breathed idly above. His fingers reached for the band of his boxers. Giving the fabric a firm tug, his heavy cock sprung from the tight confinements. Veiny, and thick, pulsing with demand. Pearly beads of pre, gathering from his rigid tip. He raised his hand in front and briefly spat twice, before pumping his shaft. He slumps forward with a deep groan, lubricating himself as filthy sounds follow.

After a prolonged tension, his dick glinted in his fluids. He reformed his grip at his base, pressing the flushed tip against your folds.

“Hold me gentle girl, hold me…”, he asked softly, his breath wavering.

Following his plea, you wrap your forearms around his broad neck. It held firmly, as did the rest of his body. In a gradual movement, he pushes his shaft inside you, grunting aloud. He surged frantically, teeming in eagerness. You inhale sharply through your teeth, curling your thighs around his waist.

He raised his hand to your upper thigh, caressing gently. “So soft...” “you’re so warm, sweet angel…”, he praises with leisure. He buries himself further into your warmth in a gentle push. He gradually has himself to the very hilt within you, twitching erratically.

He struggles to breathe at a consistent pace. Your enticing cunt fluttered so invitingly, he had difficulties comprehending simple thought. He lays loving kisses across the side of your neck as you acclimatize to each other.

He spread you out, filling you within. His girthy length massaged your crevices, piercing deep within. It's as if he was meant for you; as if Sanemi was designed especially for your pleasure.

He gradually starts to move. Sanemi begins tenderly, rolling his hips gently, his groin lightly slapping against you. His length rocks with ease, creating the familiar sound of skin crashing. He moved his hand to grasp your waist, while his other continually grasped himself upwards.

You felt of a miracle, he had neglected to breathe again. Deep within you, over and over, he knew of heaven. He was conscious that he was vocal, but he couldn't control it. You were too good for his sanity.

You whined aloud, settling your face into the crook of his neck. Your grasp tightens around him, feeling a gradual sensation of ecstasy arise. You could feel his heartbeat, strumming a gentle symphony against your naked breast. A close connection.

His cock plunged into you tentatively, as if you were facile to shatter. Mindlessly rocking and softly pounding into you. His thighs clenched, entranced by the eternal pleasure you offered. You could feel his silky pants by your ear, seeming that even a little of you drove him wild.

He moved, handled and spoke with absolute tenderness. His unending praises are a celestial chorus. He ensured to treat you with nothing but the finest.

But you craved more. His ferocious, animalistic urge, which he promised you in the lift. You wanted him to batter you mercilessly, laying claim to you. You knew he wanted it too.

Traveling your hands to his back, you caressed gently. “Sanemi… faster- please…”, you chirped gently.

He groaned heavily in response, burying his face firmly into your neck. Your voice drove him over, unleashing his wildest impulses. His upholding hand grasps at the sheets, as if a display of him attempting to hold to the last of his humanity. He responds with a harsh thrust.

"Yes, sweet thing." he uttered.

He was quick to follow your demands. His movements grew more brutal, with delicate rolls swiftly developing into animalistic thrusts. His cock plummeted sloppily, reaching unnoticed rises. He used his developed muscles and stamina, his movement appearing unending, ensuring to fulfil your deepest needs.

His breathing became erratic, with groans and grunts against your ear, endured in a sultry tone. He'd babble soothing praises, promising you that no one could fuck your sweet pussy better than him.

You knew to believe him.

You moaned against him, clutching at him desperately. It felt as if he was mindlessly pleasing you, plunging within your innermost soul. It was as if you had only been within his humanity to satisfy him. Your voice grew incoherent, only whispering his name. He tilted his head, succumbing to your idly murmurs with delicate, sensual kisses.

“So good, sweet angel, such a sweet girl.”, he murmurs.

He slides his hand from your hips to your chest. His palm gently rests on your supple breast, kneading the subtle skin tenderly. You arch in answer, forcing yourself against him further.

Even while he stipulated endless erotic sensations, your body desired more. You wanted him completely, and you became greedy. Rottenly greedy. You wanted to be reminded that nothing else in the world matters except him.

Even if he massaged within the innermost spirit, he had to take you completely. Not a portion of your body must be unclaimed

“Please, Sanemi. More- Need it so bad…”, Your voice is a pale melody, though your words strike deeply within him. He grins, doting in your submission.

He catches your wrist and places it above your head. “Oh, sweet thing? You still want more? Hmm? Even with my cock poundin’ you? Ain’t you a dirty girl…”, he groaned. He grips your thighs and lays them over the rigid of his shoulders, almost folding you in half. You could feel every vein along him, pulsing urgently.

“How could I ever deny my sweet girl of anythin’?”, he hums proudly. And as soon as that, he continues moving anew. This time, he is visibly vengeful. His shaft strikes into you rigorously, reaching his very haft in a deep plunge. Filthy, shameful noises pour from your bodies as he pummels your inner depths ruthlessly. His balls smack into your slit diligently, almost causing bruising.

He gazed from above with an almost sadistic look, relishing as he ruined your body, melding your velvet walls for his cock.

Back and forth with a repetitive, harsh manner. Holding vigorous brutality. Yet, it had been exhilarating. A hell had developed into heaven, and it was him.

“So desperate ain’t you? You want this? You want my claim?” he panted eagerly, his chest fluctuating freely. Your hold deepens on his back as you nod in response, mumbling a gentle "please" against him.

You knew not to act irrationally. How could you deny him? After the bliss he had brought you tonight?

Oh, your sweet voice… fervently begging for him. So desperately. You were such a good girl for him.

His hips falter briefly, before he groans profoundly with pride. “Oh, sweet girl.. You’re so good… so fuckin’ good.”, he moans. He kisses your neck needily, craving.

It was shortly until you felt a familiar coil within you. A soft flowering bloom. Your heart raced as the sensation grew stronger, pulsing through every fibre of your body. The anticipation grew excruciating, fueling a burning desire to embrace the intoxicating bliss that laid.

He too felt his climax build, as his coordinated movement grew urgent and eager. Rutting into you, eager to achieve that wave of fulfilment.

Your fingers layered into his white curls. His head is tilted forward, as he plunged endlessly. You grasp your fingers around his face, having him gaze upon you.

And he watches. His entire focus is on your face. His gaze sweeps over every aspect of you, every beauty. He drinks it all mindlessly, imbibing in every detail.

And it ruins him.

His face flushed pink, and he swiftly pressed his face into your neck, absorbing in your sickly scent. His thrusts became frantic, desperate, as he's reminded who he's plunged so deeply into.

“Sweet girl… so fuckin’ pretty… just f’me…”, He rambles incessantly. His grip on your wrist alters, and he soon entwines his fingers with yours. His hands are twitching, and warm, as it pulses with sinful desires.

As you felt the rhapsodic heavens, a white blinded your vision, and you were washed alas with phenomenal delight. You flutter around his shaft, tightening firmly. His hips dragged frantically, and with a quiver of mumbled curses, he finished deeply, too. His dick pulses and spurts ropes of ecstasy, into the warmth of your womb.

He breathes deeply into the silence of the room, prolonging his pleasure with light rolls. He inhaled shakily, his lower lip quivered faintly. After culminating his high to its very end, he gingerly slides your thighs from his shoulders. He rests, laying beside you.

He lazily places his palm on the side of your face. He observed you, holding the same soft stare he had in the bar. He smiles sluggishly.

“D’you think I could… see you again?” He inquired calmly, his thumb sliding over your cheek. You studied him curiously before beaming sweetly at him.

Your breathing synchronizes with that familiar, serene melody, developing a pleasant silence in the room. The moon illuminated your paired beauty as you gazed at each other tenderly.

You felt his warmth, his scent.

And you felt safe.

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voyeurmunson · 7 months

Text

Cashmere and Cigarettes (SteddiexReader) Part Two:

⚠️explicit sexual content. Minors DNI⚠️

Part One found here

Your eyes widen as you watch their lips meet. You hear a soft moan from Steve as Eddie tilts his head to the side, his tongue begging for access.

Steve parts his lips and their tongues collide feverishly. All of Steve’s hesitation seems to fly out the window as his hand moves to the back of Eddie’s head, his fingers threading in his dark curls.

You can see Eddie smile against Steve’s lips before he pulls away breathless.

“I take it you didn’t hate it?” Eddie smirks at Steve who shoves him away, rolling his eyes.

Steve turns back to you, his eyes gleaming, his cheeks extra rosy. He leans in close, his lips meeting your ear. “I- I liked it.” he whispers, making you giggle. You lean back, gripping the sides of his face as you pull him in for a kiss. You can taste the familiar peppermint from Steve now mixed with Eddie’s new flavor of tobacco.

You suck on his tongue, savoring the taste of both of them. Suddenly you feel him again. Eddie. His rings are on the back of your neck, pressing you closer to Steve. Then you feel Eddie’s lips on your cheek, slowly trailing across your jaw and to your neck.

You moan into Steve’s mouth as Eddie sinks his teeth into your soft skin, harder than you’re used to. You pull away from Steve with a gasp.

“You okay, baby?” Eddie mumbles, still hiding in the crook of your neck.

“Yes.” you answer rapidly, making him chuckle.

“Why don’t you lay down here?” he kisses your neck one more time before pulling away. You nod and scoot back toward the middle of Steve’s bed.

“I want you to fuck her, Steve.” Eddie turns toward Steve as he stands up from the edge of the bed. Steve nods softly, his eyes going back and forth between you and Eddie.

Eddie reaches out, his fingers landing on the hem of Steve’s sweater, pulling it over his head before going to work on his jeans. You watch as Eddie hooks his fingers in Steve’s belt loops, yanking his pants to the floor.

Eddie’s eyes fall lower, seeing Steve’s cock pressing hard against his tight Calvin Klein boxer briefs, his tip poking out the top.

“Damn, Harrington.” he smirks, making Steve blush once again as he comes to join you on the bed. Steve crawls on top of you as Eddie takes a seat in Steve’s desk chair, leaning back casually, legs spread slightly. You glance over at him wanting to ask why he wasn’t joining but you didn’t want to seem too needy.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m gonna play too. Just wanna watch for a minute.” he answers your unspoken question. “That okay?”

“Yes.” you answer timidly, feeling a familiar throbbing between your thighs. The thought of someone watching you and Steve turning you on in a way you’ve never felt before. You grab Steve by the neck, smashing your lips to his. You reach down, running your hand along his hard cock, earning a moan from him.

“Need you, Steve. I’m so wet, baby.” you whisper, guiding his hand between your thighs.

“Holy shit..” he groans, feeling your soaked panties. He wastes no time stripping you of your clothes, tossing them to the floor as he kisses you hungrily. You feel his thick head gliding up and down your folds. You lift your hips into him, aching for more. For all of him.

“So wet.. you’re so fucking wet.” Steve breathes, swirling his head through your slick.

“Fuck her, Steve.” Eddie’s voice comes from the side, making both of your heads turn. You can see the bulge in his jeans making you even wetter.

“Touch yourself.” You blurt out hastily, making Eddie smile. “I mean.. are you gonna touch yourself?” you try again.

Your eyes remain glued to him as he reaches down for his belt buckle, slowly pulling it through the loops. His ringed fingers then move to the button on his black denim jeans.

He pulls them down to his knees, freeing his cock. Fuck, he’s huge. Slightly longer than Steve but not quite as thick. His brown eyes bore into yours as he wraps his fist around his cock, beginning to pump up and down, the image making you inhale sharply.

You cry out as Steve thrusts into you unexpectedly, giving you every inch of him. Your attention shifts back to him, meeting his lips as soon as your head turns his way. He rolls his hips, sliding easily in and out of your soaked pussy, pulling moan after moan from your lips.

“Ever choked her before, Stevie?” Eddie asks, his voice closer than before.

“Uh- no… I don’t wanna hurt her.” Steve mumbles softly, slowing down his thrusts.

“What if she likes to be hurt.. do you like it, sweetheart?” Eddie burns, kneeling on the bed next to the two of you.

You swallow hard, meeting Eddie’s dark eyes. “I- I don’t know.” you admit quietly, looking between the two of them. Eddie’s fingers trail up your arm lightly, dancing across your shoulder, landing finally on your throat.

Steve starts to move again just as Eddie adds a little pressure to your throat, a small moan escaping immediately. Eddie smiles wickedly, gripping even tighter making you moan even louder.

Steve watches with lustful eyes, keeping a nice pace, entering you deep every time.

“Wanna try, Stevie?” Eddie encourages, removing his hand from your neck.

Steve takes Eddie’s place, his fingers tentatively wrapping around your throat.

“Oh fuck.” you let out a needy moan, feeling Steve’s soft hands on your skin. Something about your usually sweet boyfriend choking you made your mind completely fuzzy, your body craving more from him.

“You like that?” Eddie asks, watching from his place beside you.

“Yes.. mhmm..” you whimper.

“What about you, Steve?” Eddie turns his attention to him.

“Y-Yeah.. can I do it harder?” he asks breathlessly.

“Please.” you beg, feeling his fingers tighten even more.

“There you go, Steve. She loves that.. look at her.” Eddie praises, observing every noise coming from you.

“Yeah you do, angel. Look how wet you are.” Steve chuckles deeply, his speed increasing, making you cling to him fiercely. Eddie moves to kiss your lips and you greet him happily as Steve drives into you below.

“Shit..” you laugh breathlessly as Eddie’s lips move lower, his mouth landing on your breast. You couldn’t believe any of this was happening. All of it feeling like some wild dream.

You bring your hand to Eddie’s head, holding him close as he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple. His brown eyes lock onto you just as he bites down making your mouth drop open.

He smirks, seeing your reaction, taking the soft bud in between his teeth, rolling and nipping.

Your eyes widen as Eddie moves even lower, wet kisses across your skin, continuing his trail down your body. Steve slows his thrusts, watching with the same curiosity as you.

Eddie reaches your warmth, using two fingers to spread your lips. He glides his tongue into your slit, flicking rapidly across the sensitive bud as Steve begins to roll his hips again.

“Fuck..” you moan breathlessly as Eddie’s lips lock down on your clit, tugging gently as Steve rocks into you.

You struggle to remain still, the feeling of both of them almost too much. But you didn’t want to move. You didn’t want it to end. Eddie lifts his head slightly, lips still brushing across your dripping slit.

“Let’s make her cum, Steve. I wanna taste her. All of her.” he mumbles, his voice sending vibrations across your pussy. He kisses your clit one time before pulling away, making you whimper pathetically.

“We’re gonna take care of you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” He hums as his lips are replaced with two of his fingers. He begins to swipe across your clit rapidly just as Steve picks up speed, fucking you harder.

Your back arches and Steve hooks your leg around his hip, driving even deeper as Eddie’s fingers continue torturing your sensitive nub.

“Too much..” you whimper. This is normally where Steve would stop, but Eddie doesn’t, his fingers keep their rhythm, sweeping across your throbbing clit.

“Hmm.. you can take it, sweetheart.” Eddie hums, watching your face carefully.

“I feel- I feel like..” your mind is a jumbled mess as you feel a familiar yet different sensation building fast. Steve rolls his hips perfectly, his cock ramming into your soft spot as Eddie speeds up his fingers even more.

“Let go, baby. Let it all go.” Eddie instructs in a low tone.

“Ho-Holy fuck!” you squeal, hands grasping at the sheets as stars cloud your vision.

“Fuck, baby. Oh my god.” Steve moans, watching in awe as you squirt all over his cock.

“Good fucking girl… I knew you had it in you.” Eddie mumbles lustfully, fingers still playing with your pussy as you soak the sheets beneath you.

Steve doesn’t stop, face full of surprise and pleasure as your body trembles wildly beneath him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Steve breathes.

“Keep going, Steve.” Eddie burns as you shake your head rapidly.

“I- I can’t.” you gasp, tears filling your eyes from the pleasure.

Steve’s eyes darken slightly as he leans over you. “You can take it, angel.” he repeats his own version of Eddie's words with a confidence you’ve never seen before, making your eyes roll into your head.

“Harder, Steve!” you surprise yourself with your cry for more, your body already feeling like jello.

“She’s a filthy little thing, Stevie. Look at the mess she’s making.” Eddie chuckles as Steve pounds into you relentlessly.

“So filthy.. s-so fucking hot..” Steve mumbles in between his moans as he plunges into your drenched pussy.

“Slow down, Steve.” Eddie orders and Steve leans back, taking his time with each thrust, watching as he enters you.

Eddie’s tongue meets your stomach, dipping lower, finding your warmth again. His lips glide across Steve’s dick as Steve continues to fuck you slowly. Eddie catches your cum on his tongue as he flattens it against Steve’s length.

“Shit..” Steve breathes. Eddie keeps his tongue in place causing it to glide across the top of Steve’s cock with every stroke.

“I- Eddie..” Steve releases his name with a moan making Eddie smirk as he removes his tongue. Steve pulls out, his cock slick with your cum and you both watch in awe as Eddie takes Steve in his hand.

“O-oh my god…” Steve chokes out, watching carefully as Eddie takes his tip in his mouth.

��Shit… holy shit.” Steve pants, tentatively bringing his hand to Eddie’s brown curls.

Your eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s face and Eddie’s. Steve is struggling to keep his eyes open as Eddie’s lips bob up and down on your boyfriend's cock.

Jesus Christ.

Eddie pulls off slowly cleaning Steve’s dick of your cum eliciting the smallest whimper from Steve.

“Lay down, Steve.” Eddie whispers and Steve nods quickly, laying back on the bed. Eddie turns to look at you, giving you a little ‘come here’ motion.

You come to kneel next to him and he grips your chin, pulling your face close to his. His lips brush yours as he speaks. “That pussy tastes good, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you cum all over my tongue...” He trails off, his voice low and husky.

Fuck.

Eddie presses his lips to yours and you moan timidly and you can feel him smile against your lips.

“But first…You're gonna help me.” Eddie asks, nodding toward Steve’s hard cock.

“Yes sir.”

Part three 🖤

Tag list: @gracieluvthemoon @paleidiot @munsonsblunt

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #steddie x reader smut #steddie x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader smut #steve Harrington #steve Harrington smut #eddie munson x reader #steve Harrington x reader #steddie smut #Steddie #steddie x you #eddie munson filth #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve x eddie x reader

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themirroredmoon · 2 years

Text

Wine in Witchcraft - Meanings and Associations

Wine is generally associated with Happiness, Success, Love, Relationships, and Offerings. However, specific types can be broken down further and have more associations.

RED WINE (In General) Element: Earth Season: Winter Associations: Love, Warmth, Contemplation, Happiness, Success, Money, Passion, Health, Lust

[Cabernet Sauvignon] Tastes Like: Full-bodied, dark fruit flavors of blackcurrant (cassis), black cherry, blackberry with notes of green bell pepper, spice, tobacco, wood, and vanilla Element: Earth Associations: Grounding, Protection, Banishing, Strength, Energy, Lust, Fertility, Ancestors, Written Magic (Sigils)

[Merlot] Tastes Like: Soft/round, dark fruit flavors of black cherry, blackberry, plum, and raspberry layered with herbal notes and undertones of vanilla and mocha Element: Water, Fire Associations: Unity, Love, Passion, Self-Care, Protection, Healing, Prosperity, Sexuality, Sea Witchcraft, Water Magic

[Pinot Noir] Tastes Like: Delicate and fresh, complex flavors that include cherry, raspberry, mushroom and forest floor, plus vanilla and baking spice when aged in French oak Element: Earth, Air Associations: Prosperity, Protection, Wealth, Success, Beauty, Passion, Glamours

[Shiraz] Tastes Like: Hearty, spicy, black pepper, black currant, clove, blackberry, plum, leather, tar Element: Fire, Earth Associations: Wealth, Banishing, Divination, Tech Witchcraft, Comfort, Mystery, Secrets, Endings

[Zinfandel] Tastes Like: Rich, zesty, raspberry, raisin, black cherry, blackberry, pepper Element: Earth Associations: Growth, Wealth, Plant Magic, Vigor, Stamina, Happiness, Love, Healing, Versatility

WHITE WINE (In General) Element: Air Season: Summer Associations: Joy, Happiness, Love, Relationships, Friendships, Endings, Success, Energy, Purification

[Chardonnay] Tastes Like: Wider-bodied, light, velvety, apricot, mango, green apple, citrus, melon, vanilla Element: Water Associations: Peace, Emotions, Safety, Success, Happiness, Balance, Polarity, Purification, Mental Power/Abilities

[Moscato] Tastes Like: Sweet, acidic, fruity, grapefruit, musk, citrus, apricot, rose, caramel Element: Air Associations: Love, Mystery, Lust, Relationships, Fertility, Purity, Cleansing, Healing, Love Magic

[Pinot Grigio] Tastes Like: Crisp, dry, fruity, peach, pear, acidic Element: Air Associations: Rebirth, Endings, New Beginnings, Happiness, Reality, Creativity, Longevity, Divination (especially open-ended, like tarot)

[Riesling] Tastes Like: Steely, crisp, fresh, slightly sweet, pear, apple, peach, petrol, honey Element: Fire, Water Associations: Energy, Movement, Growth, Rebirth, Love, Friendship, Attraction, Activity/Movement (dance, preparation, cleansing, etc)

[Sauvignon Blanc] Tastes Like: Herbal, grass, bell pepper, green apple, lime, gooseberry, jalapeno, melon, mango, black currant, passionfruit, peach Element: Air, Earth Associations: Love, Peace, Friendship, Companionship, Arts, Healing, Happiness, Joy, Spirit Work

ROSÉ WINE (In General) Element: Air Season: Spring Associations: Beginnings, Happiness, Excitement, friendship, New Romance, Love, passion, Playfulness, Relaxation, Luck

SPARKLING WINE Element: Fire Season: Summer Associations: Success, Completion, Celebration, Wealth, Opportunity, Setting Things in Motion, prosperity, space Witchcraft, Weather Magic, Adding a “Spark”

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idesofrevolution · 1 year

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Hi. Love your work. It’s my Birthday today. Any chance of a story turning me into a younger, cigar smoking jock from my 40 year old white collar suburban everyday 9-5.

love your work even if not :)

You open the door, startled by such a forceful knock at this time of the day. Looking around, you see nobody anywhere nearby, if anything, an unnerving quiet had fallen over your neighborhood as if you were the only one around for a mile. Just as you were preparing to shut the door and return to whatever you were doing, you feel the tip of your toe hit something as you retreat back into your home. Looking down, a small package in nondescript brown packaging sat ominously at your feet.

No label, no return address, nothing. It was your birthday, so you thought to yourself that perhaps one of your neighbors was being kind and wanted to do something nice for a change. You pick up the box and gently shake it. Something loose inside of it rattles about, clearly not heavy, nor breakable. You take the box inside, sitting down onto the couch and begin to tear the brown paper from it. Atop the taped cardboard box, a small note was attached.

"Happy Birthday. Hopefully this brings you memories of a simpler time. Enjoy." The letter was unsigned, written in inhuman, clear lettering. Intrigued, you open the box. Inside, rolling around was a single cigar. You pick it up, feeling the smooth cylinder glide between your fingers. Smiling, you light it up, ready to unwind for just a moment. It is your birthday after all.

Taking one deep drag, you lean back into the sofa, exhaling a huge cloud of thick tobacco smoke. The cigar tastes funky, salty almost. The unexpected flavor takes you aback for a moment, though even stopping for one moment made you crave one more drag. Bringing it to your lips, you take another inhale, feeling your chest rise and fall as the cloud escapes your lips. The cigar feels at home between your lips as they plump up and stubble begins to crawl down from your sharpening jaw to your chest.

You rub your itching pecs as they begin to grow, your shoulders widen and square out with thick deltoids and traps. You take another drag. The sensation of smoke flows deep into you, coursing through your veins, filling your expanding biceps and rock hard forearms. Between your callousing fingers, worn from hard labor and barbell scratches, you roll your cigar and savor the newfound vitality which overwhelms your thickening muscles.

You slide your pants off as your quads inflate, setting off a stirring in your groin. Your balls grow heavy and pendulous, filled with thick, juicy, potent seed. Pre begins to leak out of the lengthening shaft, your new funky musk wafting from your damp pits and sweaty balls drives you wild as you begin to paw at your rock hard bulge. Slipping your increasingly moist boxers off, your 11" cock slams against your cum gutters throbbing with each burst of muscle growth in your calves. Taking it in your hand, you beat your musty donkey dick as you feel your toes strain against the confines of your socks, sweat pouring into the cotton fibers before the loud tearing sounds of the fabric giving way notate their inevitable demise.

You stroke faster and harder, your balls swinging and jumping with every tug of the meaty member. Your slick cockhead slipping in and out of the sticky foreskin inches you closer and closer until you can't contain yourself any longer. With one final slamming down of your fist onto your groin, ropes of sticky, thick cum shoot out of your cock like a geyser. Every shot your face grows younger, fuller, sharper. Your brows fall downward into a permanently furrowed look as your hair curls wildly, becoming a sweaty mop atop your chiseled skull.

Breathing out, you exhale the last remnants of yourself. Sitting there, covered in your own splooge, you chuckle to yourself as you rub the baby batter into your skin. You crack your toe knuckles and jump up, slipping on your favorite pair of Wrangler jeans and your ripe Timberland boots. Being sure not to forget your gifted cigar, you sauntered out the door, looking to find a good time to make your perfect birthday complete.

#happy birthday man

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garfieldsladybird · 2 years

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heyyy idk if ur request are on or off and if u still write for timothée. but if you do, i had an idea. so like i think its number 6 and the prompt is “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?” and the reader is dating timothée and they r at his apartment smoking and he falls asleep before she does and wakes up to her in his shirt

my requests are open so your all good and I will forever write for him!! :)) i love thisss!!! thank you for requesting lovely <333 also sorry it took forever :(( it didn’t have to be this many words but for some reason I just wanted to make it longer.

Cloth | Timothée Chalamet.

timothée x reader. (established relationship)

warnings — words: 1,136. fluff. drugs. marijuana. very detailed about smoking bong hits. smoking a piece of blunt wrap in a bong. blunts have tobacco in it, mentions of tobacco.

a/n: also very proud on how this turned out :)) to all my ppl that lay on the right side of the bed im sorry, I had to choose a side and I sleep on the left 😬

Credits -> This is my work. Their ^ idea. It is to not be plagiarized. Timothée Chalamet is a real human being and I do not know him. This is all fictional. Even if he’s real.

Masterlist, Navigation, Timmy C. List.

It was just one of those lazy days today.

Best days of all days, were you and timothée were just you and timmy, even though that’s an everyday thing with you both, it was a day of no work, no fans- unless you do run into someone when out but no online stuff, and that's it. Just comfort for each other.

The day already passed by, not doing much except smoking, exploring each other’s bodies a few times, going for a walk and ordering some food but it was way too late to order food now, yet the city wasn’t asleep. I mean we are in the city nicknamed ‘The city that never sleeps.’

As of right now, you and timmy were just taking bong hits, relaxing on the bed, and watching a new show on netflix. Today you’ve smoked two blunts and a joint, while also taking bong hits, pen hits, and some dap hits too but that was throughout the day. And now you didn’t have that much weed to roll a joint, not even to roll a blunt... especially when all the cones and blunts you have are rolled and there was no point to smoke one right now.

A sharpe sound was heard, interrupting the tv as the pink lighter in your hand generated a flame. If you look close enough, there was blue at the bottom close to the metal where it was sprouting out from, continuing to go into an ombré of orange to yellow in the form of a candle, but between the blue and orange, it was clear, see-through. surprisingly.

You pull the now lit lighter to the bowl that was full of ground-up weed and a very small piece of a blunt wrap— it was from a leftover roach earlier that day, both of you smoked the weed from the roach so now you were smoking the wrap.

The bong was in your hand over the side table as you lit your herbs on fire and begin to inhale. Covering the carb hole with your thumb, you hear the tv playing but also hear the water bubbling and feeling it drip back down too.

Watching the bowl for a few seconds, a familiar burning sensation in the back of your throat starts building up. Just before it gets too much, you move to uncover the hole and continue to inhale, the air aiding to direct the smoke into your lungs.

You take as much as you could before pulling away, smoke lines come waving through the dark fiery weed from in the bowl. You slowly blow the smoke out, making a small white cloud form in the dark tv lit room.

A grape taste fulls your mouth and the air now smells like it to, and it wasn’t like the medicine grape or the powerade grape flavor but it was in between both of them, tasting better than both in your opinion, the little tobacco in there making it all hit you more. Making the high so much more better.

“mmm, mon amour?” he asked in a mumbled, his face stuffed in a pillow; eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed with his lips in a pout. He was so tired, his arms felt like they could fall off, and he couldn’t open his eyes for shit, he was on the brick falling asleep but he need to say something.

“yea?” you ask with a soft smile.

“come to bedddd…”

Turning to him, you see him all snuggled up, going to lay on your side in front of him, your left hand cupping his jaw, just looking at him with a soft look, memorizing his face once more.

“Je t'aime, and sleepy.” he mumbles, eyes kind of fluttering open but still closed, yawning before his lips push into a kiss face with him humming, his way of saying ‘i wanting a kiss.’

“I love you too,” you gave him a peck but he whines when the warmth of your lips leaves his, giving him a few more smiling when you feel his before pulling away, your lips still touching, “go to sleep,” you whisper with a playful smile.

“no, you,” he mumbles, his hand now wrapping around your waist.

“I’ll come to bed with you, I just have to change, okay.” you kiss him before getting up to change, his arm flopping on the bed, the strength he has, not able to hold you down, all because of the high but as you leave he hums disapprovingly, ‘mhm mhmm’.

When you finally climb back into bed, only a few seconds had passed but he was out like a light. As you were going under the covers and turning the tv down in the process, his arm suddenly wraps around your waist, scaring you a little as he pulls you in, gaining his strength in those two minutes. Both of you are now cuddled together with the show still playing, high, asleep, but still together.

A beam of light was peeking into the room, it was lightening and warming up the carpet, indicating that the sun was up and above the window, saying it was morning. Not that many birds were chirping, but if the windows were open you would hear them talking beautifully to one another, saying good morning to everyone. The cars still making sounds as usual. The city still alive.

The warm ball in the atmosphere has yet to touch the people in the bed. Both still in deep sleep from the night they had, even though that’s an everyday night. on some occasions.

As the hours went by, the morning went higher into the sky, the bright light drifting in the room, going from one place to another, until it shone on the wall above the two lovers from where the rays were glimpsing inwards.

They look beautiful. And peaceful.

He was on his back with you cuddled and laying on him, face in his neck, leg wrapped around his waist, arm on his chest. Like a koala bear.

Disturbing the peaceful air in the room, Timmy grumbles as he rolls over, gently to not disturb you. Now laying more on you, he breathes you in, yawning before giving you a few pecks on the neck. He gets your usual smell but also gets the scent of his too. Lifting his head up a little, he looks down and sees his shirt on you. As soon as he sees that a smile rises up and he buries his face in your neck.

soon enough, you started waking up from the kisses. you cuddle into his chest, he responds by holding you even more. Breathing him in, you lift head a little, yawning you see he’s awake. “morning.” you say quietly, with a very tired smile.

“morning my love,” he says quietly too, voice raspy, with a pleasant smile, before kissing your forehead. You respond with a hum and smile on your face, leaning more into him.

“is that my shit?” he says quietly in your ear with the teasing voice in a smirk.

Still tired, you slowly open your eyes, quickly looking down at your shirt, you look up, making eye contact with him “oh, um. you mean our shirt..?” you end your question with a smirk.

‎© 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽𝗌𝗅𝖺𝖽y𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽. 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾!!

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iliektehhaxs · 5 months

Note

cid passing u his unlit cigar so he has u put it between your lips and light it yourself, then pass it to him. so that every drag he takes is an indirect kiss (bonus points if ur the type to wear lip products that leave a mark)

This could work with even before they’re in a relationship, but I’d like to imagine this is the breaking point before Cid finally gives in, a very long game of cat and mouse.

You look at him as he passes you the cigar, not looking away from his eyes for even a moment as he lights it for you, smoke passing between ruby red lips as you inhale the familiar taste of tobacco. Waves of grey fan across your face, enjoying the way Cid’s eyes haven’t lifted from yours.

“New flavor?” You ask, to which he hums in response.

“Wanted to try something new.”

You quirk your eyebrow in response. “What made you decide that?”

A click of his tongue, he leans back in his chair and thinks for a moment, leather-clad fingers drumming against his leg.

“It’s good to try new things, don’t you think?”

“New things, huh?”

There’s a tension similar to the levin he commands, it makes your heart race. You take the cigar from your lips between two fingers and pass it back slowly, and you swear you can feel the sparks fly when your fingers barely touch each other.

Cid looks at the cigar, at the stain left at the end, then back to you as he takes it into his mouth, the ends curling up into that signature smirk.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Nothing wrong with a new experience once in a while.”

“Once in a while?”

“Once in a while.”

At that you lean forward, pushing your chest as far as it can go and enjoying the bold once-over Cid gives you. You almost feel the path his eyes take across your body, from your chest down to where your legs cross.

“And what if it wasn’t once in a while, Cid?”

His grin lights up at that, putting the cigar out and spreading his legs, an invitation to which you’re eager to accept. You slowly rise, step by step, until you straddle him, his hands reaching up to stroke your sides before forcing you onto his lap, letting you feel everything he has to offer with a sigh. You arch into his touch, the cool leather a comfort against your blazing skin.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little repetition darling,” he smiles against your skin, biting at the sensitive flesh of your neck. “How about we start now?”

#robo speaks #ask #cidolfus telamon #yall I think I’m on a cid kick #he’s always been my baby daddy but RECENTLY….#ahahaha🥴

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not-wholly-unheroic · 6 months

Note

What kind/flavor of cigars you think Hook smokes? I've always got him for a sweet kind of guy, like cocoa or chocolate. But I'm very curious about your opinion.

From what little I know of it, the first flavored cigars didn’t exist until at least the 1800s, which is long after “my” Hook would have been on the sea, so initially, I think the idea of some of the modern flavored cigars would be off-putting to Hook. He’d be resistant to it as something new and strange because it’s a cigar?? It tastes like tobacco??? What else is it supposed to taste like??? But if he eventually gave in and actually tried some, I think he’d enjoy something mellow but not overly sweet… Maybe something with a bit of honey or vanilla or floral notes…similar to the sorts of tea he likes.

#captain hook #peter pan #headcanons #asks #James hook #captain james hook

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sanguinifex · 8 months

Text

Losing my mind at how Big Tobacco kept it secret for years that smoking causes cancer

And then how when everyone else finally found out bc everyone was like “wtf why are all these people in their 60s dying of lung cancer,” they got away with no penalties except having to put warning labels on their products and all tobacco taxes and higher insurance premiums fell on the consumers they’d deliberately gotten addicted to their cancer sticks as in they spent billions of dollars of advertising worldwide to get people hooked

And then just when it was starting to look like public health was about to win the war on smoking, they rolled out vapes and used the exact same playbook they had with cigarettes, as in they knew their products were dangerous and they lied that they were safe and heavily marketed their toxic lung destroyers to kids. And they’ve STILL faced no penalties. The companies didn’t get nationalized and forced to only make the least dangerous products possible that could still contain nicotine and that looked like unappealing medical devices. Nobody’s gone to prison. No company or individual has paid a single significant fine. They haven’t even had to settle a serious lawsuit.

I cannot stress how uncool smoking had gotten by 2010, around when the first commercially successful vapes hit the market. I knew so few people my age who smoked that I could count them on one hand. Nobody in the honors/AP program smoked. Smoking was seen by the vast majority of teenagers as something nasty and smelly and seriously stupid and uncool that maybe your parents or grandparents did, as old people stuff like being bad at computers or buying single-ply toilet paper.

The public health campaigns and the warning labels and the posters in the pediatricians’ offices had worked. It was all set up to be the greatest public health victory since routine childhood vaccination. The public health people were already doing victory laps. But, like a bacterium that discovers how to resist an antibiotic, Big Tobacco developed a new addictive product and a new marketing strategy.

Vapes weren’t marketed very much to adult smokers, not at first. Like, the first couple products did that, and also tried to look as close to real cigarettes as possible, but adult smokers were primarily older, suspicious of new tech, knew Big Tobacco had knowingly gotten them hooked on an unsafe product before and didn’t trust them, and probably most saliently, other nicotine replacement products like gums and patches, plus a couple of meds that make the cravings less bad or something, already existed.

No, the first effective vape marketing focused on kids. This was legal because all the laws focused on tobacco leaf products; you had to be 18 to buy tobacco replacement products, but ones that are approved by the FDA have to be unappealing to tobacco-naive consumers.

From everything I’ve heard, nicotine gum tastes terrible, and it it’s packaged like medicine (I found some at a relative’s house when I was a kid, and it was about as appealing to children as prescription antibiotics pills, in fact less so because it wasn’t colored). Because nicotine patches are FDA approved, it’s illegal to make ones that look like cute stickers that middle school children would love.

Big Tobacco realized that this was a problem, and decided to forgo FDA approval as a smoking cessation device, even while positioning to regulators and the adult public that it was one and the FDA just had too much red tape, and marketed vapes heavily to children. They designed vape pens to look like school supplies and cell phone power banks instead of like cigarettes. They marketed them to the kids who were in middle school and late elementary in 2010. They marketed them as a legal high, fun flavors, told them the vapor clouds were cool like skateboard tricks, and perhaps most importantly, sold vapes as something that was different from smoking and also as safe as chewing gum.

By 2014, per the CDC, vapes were the most used tobacco product among US adolescents. By 2016, when I graduated college, vapes were already not an uncommon sight in bars, though most people preferred cigs in the few bars that allowed smoking; by the time I started going back to bars after the pandemic became less dangerous, every fourth or fifth person was sucking on a vape.

The kids who were toddlers in 2010 are in high school now. Per data from 2022, 14.1% of them vape. That doesn’t sound like a lot, but put it this way: in a typical class size of 30, there’s 4-5 kids who vape either socially or habitually and are willing to admit it to federal researchers despite it being illegal for people their age to vape; that means there’s 2-3 more at minimum who won’t admit it, and likely several more who will take a puff if someone offers one in the school restroom or at a party, but who don’t currently have the money to develop a proper habit; most of those will get addicted within weeks of becoming old enough to get a work permit or their first college work-study, not to mention also becoming old enough to buy vapes at a store instead of from a dealer. That’s nearly half the class! The kids know it’s unhealthy, but they think it’s like ice cream is unhealthy, not the way shooting up a cocktail of meth and tranq dope with a dirty needle is unhealthy.

Capitalism literally causes cancer. The vapes weren’t safe; they cause heart attacks, strokes, and horrifying lung damage. They cause them far sooner than cigarettes do. We don’t know anything about the cancer risk yet, but I suspect that will show up in another 10 to 20 years, and that it may be different from and/or more virulent than cancers caused by traditional tobacco products. Or it may be fewer cancers but weirder ones. We simply don’t have the data yet.

Big Tobacco got another generation hooked on a killer, and capitalism let it. The execs are still eating $500 meals at Michelin-star restaurants instead of prison food. We should change that.

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waywardrose-archive · 2 years

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 4

stranger things | eddie munson x reader | rated e | 3.6k

spotify playlist | for @punk-in-docs

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, fantasizing, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Apologies for the wait. As always, life finds a way to prevent me from writing. 😫 (I swear, we are army-crawling closer to the smut.) Thank you once again for the likes, reblogs, and comments! 🖤 Check the #em tagd tag ⬇️ for previous chapters.

The line rang and rang. You paced by your bedroom desk. The new phone cord restricted your range to three steps in any direction. Pulling out a notepad, you wrote ‘longer phone cord.’

“Dammit, Eddie.”

The line clicked as someone answered on the other end. You straighten, hoping it wasn’t his uncle with bad news.

“Hello?”

Eddie.

“This is the second time I’ve called, butthead. Where were you?”

With a smile in his voice, he said, “I stopped to take a leak.”

“You scared the shit outta me.”

“My apologies, milady.”

“Don’t ‘milady’ me, sir. I thought you were dying in a ditch.”

“Nah, just peeing in one.”

You laughed despite your fading worry and sat in the desk chair, bending to unlace your Docs.

“You don’t deserve my mixtape now.”

“I don’t? Don’t you want to civilize me?”

“My music’s hardly for the civilized.”

He hummed, and it almost sounded like a purr. You froze, and your stomach swooped. You imagined him making that noise as you smoothed back his unruly hair to suck on his neck.

The tinny scratch of a lighter and the crackle of burning tobacco filled the silence. You wanted a cigarette, too, but it wouldn’t help.

“You’ve spoiled me,” he said. “My cigs taste like shit now.”

“Then buy better cigs.”

“Or I can keep bumming from you.”

“That’ll cost you.”

“Yeah? What’s the toll?”

You wanted to say kisses. Make-out sessions. Orgasms. But what if he laughed? Blew it off? Made a joke of it? Then you’d have to roll with it and laugh and say you were only kidding. No, of course, I wouldn’t extort affection from you!

You hummed in thought. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“You’re making me worried over here.”

“Serves you right.”

“Were you really that worried?”

“Yes!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really had to go.”

You sighed, the endearment softening your resolve. “I believe you. It’s just this town. It feels...”

You shrugged a shoulder.

“Yeah, I know,” said Eddie. “But I’m fine. Just hungry.”

“Well, eat something.”

“But I’m talking to you.”

“Then I’ll let you go.”

“No. No, don’t...” A faucet gurgled, then silenced. “I’ll drink some water.”

It was quiet as he drank.

“Eddie?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did you have a good time at the party?”

“Meh.” He exhaled. “It got better when you showed up.”

You dipped your head to ease the sudden tightness in your throat and coughed. It barely worked.

Your voice was raspy as you said, “Yeah, same here.”

The party had been a typical house party: couples dry-humping to pop music, jocks posing, a girl crying in the bathroom, someone highjacking the stereo, and hormones clouding every square inch. The only thing different had been Eddie. You could’ve sat on that glider bench with him for the rest of the night.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, throat’s dry.”

“Maybe I should be the one letting you go.”

You grinned and said, “I’ll manage.”

You’d given him the promised mixtape before class started, telling him you had enough leftover songs to make a second. Maybe even a third. However, if he didn’t like this first one — and you said it was totally cool if he didn’t — you wouldn’t subject him to more. He’d read the track listing and recognized one band out of fifteen.

He hadn’t wanted to look ignorant, but he was impressed. He’d nodded, thanked you, and pocketed the tape.

No one in Hawkins had this kind of unusual taste, he thought as he opened and closed the empty cassette case. The plastic click was nice. So were you.

You were also special — and weird. He liked weird. He liked you. He liked your smile, your lips. Fuck, your lips. He wanted to kiss you all the time, kiss you until it hurt. He felt constipated in his brain with how much he wanted to kiss you.

He couldn’t concentrate on writing a decent continuation of the campaign for Hellfire. Sitting next to you during O’Donnell’s was the best and the worst. He didn’t have to wonder what you were up to, because you were right there. But you were right there, and he wanted to talk to you — or crawl under your desk. He wanted to learn everything about you. But then you would ask him about him, and he didn’t want you discovering how much he’d failed at, how many milestones he’d missed.

You didn’t know he lived in a run-down trailer park. No matter how many drugs he pushed, he couldn’t get him and Wayne out. Something always went wrong with one of their vehicles. Or the roof leaked, or a pipe cracked from a hard winter’s freeze. Sometimes Wayne’s hours were cut at the plant because the union had been busted years ago and his bosses were assholes. A belt broke in the washing machine, and they’d had to haul soapy clothes to the laundromat. Then that one time when the microwave started flickering and smoking as if possessed by the ghosts of TV dinners past.

That might’ve been his fault.

And fuck lettuce. He’d never buy another stupid head of lettuce again.

Still, it was always something.

And you didn’t know any of it. Eddie didn’t want you knowing any of it.

You were definitely too good for him. The thought of you settling for him made him queasy. Sure, he’d leave Hawkins after graduation, but he realized he wouldn’t make it far. Maybe Indianapolis or Columbus. If he were lucky, Chicago — where he could maybe find work as a studio musician.

In an ideal world, he would lead Corroded Coffin to Los Angeles, where they’d play gigs and be discovered by a record label. Maybe after that he could find a partner and have a deeper connection than some eye-fucking during a concert, followed by a quickie in some backseat.

Granted, he’d only done that once, but he wanted more. He thought about you wanting more. Did you feel the same? Chicks were supposed to want the whole shebang. He liked the thought of you wanting that from him. It still made him queasy, but maybe...

Maybe he could earn it and make you proud.

The phone rang in the kitchen, jolting him from his thoughts. He nearly fell off the corner of his bed where he’d been sitting and staring at the silent boombox. Like a nutcase. He was thankful Wayne had already left for work.

He stumbled over his feet — and a few things on the floor — as he left his room. He righted himself in the hall and answered the phone in the middle of the third ring.

“Hey, did you listen to the tape yet?” you asked.

He was immediately on high alert. He hadn’t expected you to call after checking on him Saturday night.

“Yeah, some of it,” he said. “Popped it in the van after Hellfire Club—”

“Hellfire? Like the English group of devil worshippers?”

“No.” He scratched the back of his head. “I mean, I named it in honor of them, but no.”

“Then what’s Hellfire Club?”

He feigned a serious tone as he said, “An exclusive club for persons of quality.”

You sounded less than impressed when you asked, “So, just guys, then?”

“No, ‘persons.’ Anyone cool.”

“But what is it?”

With a shrug, he said, “A bunch of nerds that play Dungeons and Dragons.”

You laughed, making him feel electrified. He didn’t care if you laughed at his expense. He got you to laugh, and that was what mattered.

“One of my old friend’s boyfriend played D and D,” you said with a smile in your voice. “He had a huge collection of sourcebooks and stuff.”

He sat at the kitchenette, not believing his ears. You’ve read Lord of the Rings, knew D&D, had cool taste in music, and were gorgeous. According to the Munson Doctrine, ladies like you were out of his league.

“You ever play?” he asked.

“No, but I paged through his Dungeon Master’s Guide while they made out in the living room.”

“That’s like the Bible for DMs.”

“Figured as much.”

He said, “I’m the DM for Hellfire.”

“Of course you are.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“You seem like a leader, is what I’m saying.”

“A compliment, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“A shepherd for the lost sheep at Hawkins.”

“Is that what you do?” you asked in a teasing tone. “Tell stories for little lambs?”

He hummed in amusement. “Unfortunately, going to class impedes that second calling.”

You opened the latest issue of Propaganda to finally read the interview with The Sisters of Mercy. A list of upcoming tour dates ended the article. You frowned because they were playing two shows in New York this coming weekend, but you didn’t live there anymore. You lived in stupid Indiana now.

But then you saw they were playing Chicago on Halloween.

You snuggled into the mound of pillows on your bed as you thought. Halloween was on a Friday this year. Chicago was less than three hours away. Your parents were leaving that morning for some business conference in Cincinnati. They’d be gone until Monday night.

If you posed as Mom and called yourself out of school, you could be in Chicago just in time for lunch.

You glanced at your phone. Eddie might want to go with you. He’d said he liked both cuts from the Sisters you’d put on the mixtape. However, Halloween was a party night. He’d probably be busy dealing. Or maybe Corroded Coffin would have a show — where he’d be all sweaty and beautiful again.

Still. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, though, would it?

It was Wednesday, and after ten, so he should be home. If not, you’d ask him before class tomorrow.

You went to the phone, hesitating with your palm on the handset.

Did you want to be alone, far from home, with a guy you’d met a month and a half ago?

Eddie wasn’t a creep, though. He was a good guy. He didn’t seem the type to force himself on anyone, either. He wasn’t aggressive. Sometimes he was loud or boisterous, which wasn’t a bad thing. It was a fun thing, an Eddie thing. It made you wonder how he’d be during sex. The sole guy you’d done it with had been silent, only coming with a sharp inhale.

Instinct told you Eddie would be vocal, which made you hot all over. Maybe you’d never find out either way, but you’d like his company on Halloween. It was just a road-trip and a concert.

You picked up the handset and dialed his number. It didn’t ring long until he answered.

“Hey,” you said.

He answered with a drawn out ‘hey.’

You laughed, realizing Eddie was high. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothin’ much, baby. What’re you doing?”

“Calling to ask you something?”

“Is it something illegal? Do you need help burying a body? Are we pouring you a new patio?”

You laughed again. “No!”

“Pfft! No fun.”

“Well, it might be. If you say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Ha! That was easy.”

“What did I agree to?”

“Coming to Chicago with me on Halloween.”

“Why’re we going to Chicago?”

“To see The Sisters of Mercy play.”

“As one does.”

“Yep, as one does.” You twisted the phone cord around your finger. “So, do you want to come with me?”

He hummed. “Halloween’s a Friday.”

“Yeah, I’m going to skip.”

“And drive back that night?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead. If you did the long drive up, went to the concert, and drove back that night, you wouldn’t be home until almost dawn. That was a long day — even for you.

You said, “I guess we could get a room for the night? There’s got to be something nearby.”

He hesitated, and your heart sank. Maybe he wasn’t comfortable with you like that. He’d only met you last month. He didn’t know you weren’t a psycho. Plenty of people kept their distance because of how you dressed. It usually worked in your favor, but perhaps not this time.

Then again, it was short notice for a road-trip, concert tickets, and a night in a hotel. He may not have the money, which wasn’t a big deal.

Or maybe he had the money, but he just didn’t want to do all that with you.

“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. “If you don’t want to, it’s cool.”

“No, it’s...”

“If it’s gas money, I’ll drive, no problem. The tickets won’t be super expensive. And my mom will give me food-slash-emergency money before they leave. I can use it to pay for the room.”

“Leave?”

“Oh, yeah— Heh! Forgot to mention: my parents are going out of town that weekend.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

“But still, if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

“I...”

“Please? It’ll be fun, I promise. We can do whatever we want! Anything you want.”

His gut tightened at your promise. Anything he wanted. He wanted a lot of things. His dick jerked against the zipper of his jeans. He definitely wanted to be alone with you, go on a road-trip with you, get crazy at a concert with you. He wanted to kiss you and touch your tits and feel your legs around his hips and and and—

Shit, he was too high for this.

He dragged a hand over his face, wishing suddenly it was your ass. He wanted to rub his face all over it, make it wobble against his cheeks. He liked your ass.

He liked your mixtape, too. All of it, actually. The Sisters of Mercy were on there — that he remembered.

It wouldn’t matter if he missed a day of school. The flock would survive one day without him. Hellfire wouldn’t be meeting that night, anyway, because the freshmen wanted to go trick-or-treating.

“Eddie?” you asked.

Fuck it.

This is the story of how a Munson had an adventure, and found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected.

He said, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

You squealed in delight, giving him a new kind of head-rush. It was like weed plus whiskey, sprinkled with Doritos and nacho cheese with extra jalapenos. He leaned more on the counter as he laughed. He didn’t know what he laughed at, but his laughter relieved a tension no drug could soothe.

It was all so simple. He’d been overthinking, examining each interaction with you from every angle. But it was simple. He needed to concentrate on the good shit. You trusted him and invited him on an adventure. You wanted to share something with him. On Halloween of all days, which must be a high holy day for goths.

And he was going to treat you so good, you wouldn’t know what to do.

The smile was so bright in your voice when you said his name again. Like sparklers on the Fourth of July. He wanted you to say his name like that every day.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replied.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We’ll plan then.”

He grinned. He knew it was goofy. Wayne would’ve seen right through him, if he were home.

“Good idea.”

“Well... Good night.”

“Good night, milady,” he said softly, placing the handset in its cradle and trailing his fingers down it.

It took days to persuade Wayne to call him out of school on Halloween. Eddie didn’t really need to do it — he was nineteen, for fuck’s sake, and could call himself out — but he didn’t want to lie to Wayne. He lied enough as it was.

Wayne asked for every detail: who he was traveling with, whose car, which band, what hotel. And what about meals, huh? Wayne didn’t expect him to live on cold Pop-Tarts for forty-eight hours — though Eddie could totally do that.

When he told Wayne he was going with you, Wayne grunted and took a long pull from his cigarette.

Eddie tried to play it casual. He kept his eyes on the TV, watching the commercials during Designing Women. Wayne did the same before grinding his cigarette out in the ashtray by his recliner.

“You like this girl?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah, I guess. She’s cool,” he said, recrossing his ankles.

Wayne was silent for too long. He glanced over to find Wayne observing him.

“Edward,” he said, tone serious. “Do you like this girl?”

He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand on the thigh of his jeans.

“Yeah, I do.”

Jesus, he really did. And he hadn’t even kissed you. Maybe he could roll for constitution in Chicago. Because he hadn’t skill checked at all during Jimmy Kirk’s party. He didn’t know why he was thinking in D&D terms. He needed to focus on the present conversation.

“—parents know you’re goin’ with her?”

It took him a second to fill in the blanks.

“Um, yeah? I think so?”

Wayne grunted again. “And how old is she?”

“Seventeen? Eighteen? She’s a senior.”

Wayne nodded.

“Alright, but you keep your wits about you, hear? Thinkin’ cap.”

He agreed by pantomiming putting on a hat.

“No funny business, either,” Wayne said. “We don’t need no miniature Munsons runnin’ around in nine months.”

His face burned. He looked to the ceiling, lips curled between his teeth. He wasn’t up to bat with you, let alone getting to any bases. Knocking you up hardly seemed a possibility. He liked the activity that led to babies, naturally, but no babies just yet.

“Jesus Christ, Wayne.”

“Well, somebody had to say it!”

Wayne laughed, then coughed, then continued laughing.

“And you elected yourself as spokesman?” Eddie asked.

“Damn straight, kiddo, you’re my blood.”

They shared a grin before Wayne tacked on: “Now get me another beer.”

On the Wednesday before Halloween, he suggested meeting around nine on Friday at the park by the community pool. It should still be open. You replied you could pick him up at his place, but he thought fast to say it wasn’t a big deal. Wayne wouldn’t mind dropping him there after work.

“I thought he worked second shift?” you asked.

“He does, but sometimes third, too.” He shrugged. “It’s more money.”

You nodded.

“Of course,” you said, but didn’t sound convinced.

Eddie knew not to say any more. Lies, even white ones, had to be kept simple. It wasn’t as if Wayne didn’t occasionally work third shift.

He’d have to talk Wayne into waking early to drive him when he got home after school.

Thursday night, he unearthed Wayne’s old army duffle from the floor of his closet. He shook it out and gave it a sniff. It smelled like old canvas. He left it to air out as he rolled joints. You seemed cool with weed. He riffled through the lunchbox, finding little bottles of molly and k, and leftover tabs of acid.

He couldn’t leave that for anyone to find.

He kicked the lunchbox under his bed and folded all the bottles and baggies in a pair of acid-wash jeans. If you didn’t want any, they were safe. If you did, he had an assortment of goodies.

Staring at the lone pair of jeans next to the duffle had him spiraling. He wasn’t going to a heavy metal concert. He was going to a goth concert. He wasn’t goth. He didn’t know what goths wore to concerts. He assumed leather pants and ruffly shirts, neither of which he kept in his vast repertoire of sumptuous attire.

In hindsight, he should’ve thought about this when you’d first invited him. It hadn’t dawned on him until the night before his usual threads wouldn’t do.

Goddammit, he did this kind of shit all the time.

Okay, he thought. Okay, okay, okay. If he wouldn’t fit in, he at least didn’t want to embarrass you... Plain wasn’t embarrassing. Plain was good. He had plain stuff.

Dark t-shirt, check. Dark henley, check. Dark jeans, check. Leather boots, double check. Leather jacket — waiting by the back door — big check. Socks and underwear, check. Toiletries, check and check.

He didn’t know how many checks that had been, but figured it was plenty.

Friday found him scrambling for extra money and music. There hadn't been enough checks last night. He couldn’t believe he’d nearly forgotten two essential elements. Actually, yes, he could.

Wayne gave him a twenty as Eddie stuffed bills from the Get (the fuck) Out of Hawkins Fund in his wallet. He looked at the twenty and back to Wayne, but Wayne only shrugged. It wasn’t an endorsement, per se, yet it felt like one. It was a lot of money, too. That was two tanks of gas — with extra for a Slim Jim or whatever.

The ride to the park was quiet without the radio on. He would usually want music, but this wasn’t his ride. He tried not to bounce his knee as he hoped they weren’t too late. It was only five after.

You were already in the parking lot, though, leaning a hip against your car. You didn’t appear pissed as you straightened when Wayne stopped nearby. Honestly, you looked beautiful in the golden light streaming through the autumnal trees. You lifted the black sunglasses off your face to give him a radiant smile.

His gut clenched even as he smiled back. He was screwed.

Wayne nudged his thigh. He turned to find Wayne — his uncle, the man who took him in over a decade ago, whom he probably disappointed on a weekly basis — offering a small box of condoms.

“Jesus H. Christ, Wayne,” he whisper-screamed, snatching the box from Wayne.

Wayne smirked as Eddie hid the box deep in the duffle.

“She’s pretty,” Wayne said. “So keep your wits about you.”

“I will, promise.”

Wayne nodded, saying, “Good.” He pointed with his chin. “Best get goin’ then.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #reader insert #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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exe-does-not-work · 2 years

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General Sander Headcanons

A gentleman, but a confident gentleman.

He's also extremely hard to read sometimes.

Okay, I think it's safe to say he has toe/paw beans. So does Drew and Freddy. He covers them because he thinks it'll ruin his tough exterior. Give 'em a squish!

His tail is snugly tucked in his pants at all times. He can't show emotions in battle or working in the office, bless it. One wag and he'd never hear the end of it!

Files his claws when he's in his office. Yeah, they could be useful, but they just get in the way sometimes.

His favorite flavor of cigars are the ones that have bourbon taste notes. His second favorite are just the plain tobacco ones. Anything else gives him a headache.

The smell of cigars always linger on his clothes, so he's got a very pleasant aroma.

Likes a good drink from time to time. He'll sometimes experiment with different cocktails and such.

His favorite food is barbeque, specifically smoked ribs. No, I will not elaborate.

Often scolds the Decree guards for not filling out proper reports. No, he doesn't need to know about your collection, nor does he need to know about the Miramon contest. PLEASE just tell him the important points that happened in your mission.

He can't ever relax his muscles are so TENSE. ALL THE TIME. He is in desperate need of a deep-tissue massage.

His kitten is his new right hand man. Everyone knows about the cat but they don't know about its instant promotion. They tease him about it in secret. But oh boy if they only knew the kitten would fire them all in a heartbeat, and Sander would let it.

#dislyte #sander #dislyte sander #dislyte headcanons #dislyte imagines #dislyte x reader #x reader #headcanons

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bearsandcigar-stories · 2 years

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Tobacco Barn by StogieJock (2001)

… a minor domination and transformation story

A young man working on a tobacco farm finds new ways to relate to his boss

Our neighbor Chet owned and operated one of the last tobacco farms in the state, most farmers having gone south for better soils and longer growing seasons. He said he still farmed it to 'keep it in the family', and I also think he loved the work.

Chet was almost always smoking a cigar of some sort, even though the tobacco in them was not from his farm. "It supports the industry," he always said. He would keep it in the side of his mouth, and often talked around the cigar as to be able to work, smoke and talk at the same time. I always admired Chet when he did that, and it never occurred to me as to why until this summer.

It was harvest time just before my sophomore year in college, and I always worked on his farm in the summer for some extra cash. Well, it wasn't just extra cash, it was often a lot of money, and we worked hard for it. One of the most labor-intensive parts of tobacco farming is the harvest, which must be done by hand, or at least had been since Chet's grandfather started the business. You take a super-sharp sickle and cut the mature leaves from the outer whorl of the plant off by hand, and load them on the tractor. You'll do this every week, since you wait for the younger, inner leaves to mature, and harvest them later. Then you bring the leaves to the tobacco barn to hang and dry before delivery to whatever factory you have a contract with.

Most of the work was finished one day, and it was just me and Chet left finishing the hanging. In the winter the floor of the barn is used as a stable for horses and cows. By summer, the animals are put out to pasture, keeping the barn free for tobacco storage. Chet was down in one of the stalls sharpening sickles. I was up in the rafters of the long, drafty barn, hanging a bundle of the large, sweet smelling leaves.

From out of the corner of my eyes I saw Chet stop sharpening, reaching for his matches and a cigar. I recognized this cigar as a Jereboam, one of the bigger cigars with a diameter of almost an inch, and a length of almost a foot. In most people's eyes, such a huge cigar would look ridiculous. To me, it seemed to make Chet even more of a man than he ever was.

Chet was big, blonde and blue-eyed like most folks in the area. Most of the emerging grey hair in his fortysomething temples were obscured by his thick, wavy blonde hair. He had a wide, trimmed mustache that reached across the length of his lip from each end of his mouth. He had strong lips, which gripped his cigars firmly.

He trimmed the end of his Jereboam off with his cigar clipper, and rolled that end on his tounge, wetting down the rough edges left from the cut. He moved the cigar deeper into his mouth, tasting the bitter-spicy flavor of this particular brand. He removed the cigar from his mouth, and ran the length of it under his nose to smell the aroma of the fresh, unsmoked cigar. I could hear the scraping of his bristly mustache against the veiny skin of the cigar, and my cock started to twitch and bulge.

I didn't understand why my heart started racing and my face to turn red. It was just a cigar! My cock swelled in my dirty work jeans, and I continued to stare, transfixed, at Chet's cigar ritual.

He placed the cigar decidedly back into his mouth, and I knew he was gonna light it soon. Sure enough, his strong callused hands, coated with curly golden hairs, reached for a matchbox. He took out a wooden match and struck it against the flint. The match flared brightly, highlighting the golden stubble on his face for a moment, and he brought the match to the end of his cigar.

This is the part I always loved to watch, and my cock agreed. My dick was filling out my crotch completely, and was aching for release from my Levis. Chet took a hard draw on his cigar and the flame from the match was pulled into the end of the cigar, lighting it. He drew more air into the cigar, and thick, white smoke started to pour from his mouth into the cooling evening air. The smoke curled out from under his mustache, up and around his head, and off to fill the barn, hopefully to capacity!

I didn't realize I had been staring, nor for how long, until Chet looked right up at me, the glowing cherry of his Jereboam seeming to point at me. "You doing all right up there Jimmy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just taking a break," I said dumbly, my words slurring out from my spinning head. At that moment, I had forgotten that my cock was fully erect within the confines of my jeans.

Chet seemed to smirk a bit, and the effect of his smile around the cigar startled me. "It's time to quit for the day, why don't you come down and enjoy a cigar with me?" In a trance, I nodded, and slowly started climbing down from the rafters to the barn floor.

I reached the bottom, and as my feet hit the floor of the stall I realized Chet was right there with me. I turned around, and there stood all six feet of this farm-hardened man, cigar jutting out from his Nordic jawline. He always wore the same tan leather workboots, faded and torn jeans, and a red plaid cotton shirt which barely covered his barrel chest. Grey and blonde hairs sprouted from under his collar, and I knew there was more hair than that under his shirt. His thick, strong arms were also coated with wiry blonde hairs.

He looked into my eyes, raising one of his bushy blonde eyebrows. "You like cigars, don't you Jimmy? Do you wanna try this one?"

It was almost too much, but I managed to say, "Uhh, yeah, sure Chet. But I've never smoked before."

"Don't worry about that son. We'll have you smokin' in no time." His words seemed to hold some other meaning, which was lost on me at the time. He brought his meaty hand to his cigar, held it, and took a deep draw from the cigar. My cock perked back up at attention as I watched the cherry of the large cigar burn fiercely. Chet looked down the length of cigar, loving every inch of it as he inhaled the thick smoke. He stopped inhaling, held the smoke for a bit, and exhaled a billowing cloud into my face. The smoke seemed to hit me with force, and I staggered a little from its impact. The smoke embraced me, and I inhaled from the cloud which, moments before, had been in Chet's hard body.

It seemed to be slow motion when Chet offered the cigar to me. In a dream-state I took it from his hand, and raised it to my lips. It was a little wet from his spit, but I eagerly put the end into my mouth, hoping to taste the combination of tobacco and Chet's saliva. The butt of the cigar tingled in my mouth, and for the first time ever I tasted the bitter and sweet flavors of a cigar in my mouth.

"Go ahead, take a draw on it. It'll put hair on your chest!" Chet said with a grin.

He didn't need to tell me how to do what came next. It was almost instinct. I pulled air into the cigar, filling my mouth with warm smoke. I let it out of my mouth, hardly believing that cigar smoke was now coming from me. I took a stronger draw on the Jereboam, loving how my mouth embraced the cigar in a perfect 'O' shape. More warm smoke filled my mouth, and a little went into my lungs. I felt a little tickle as the smoke irritated my lungs, but somehow I knew that the rush from smoking a cigar would overpower that feeling. This time I let the smoke out from my mouth slowly, watching it curl away.

Chet spoke up again, "Damn! You love those cigars almost as much as I do! Let's see you take another draw like that."

I was only too happy to oblige him. Wanting to please him seemed much more important than a potential coughing fit. I wanted to show him I was a man too, just like he was. I wanted to show him I could enjoy cigars the same way he did. I loved the warm, tasty cigar in my mouth.

I let out the rest of the air from my lungs, preparing for the next Big Draw on the Jereboam. This one was gonna be the biggest fuckin' cloud ever made by a college kid, I thought. I held on to the big cigar, so I could draw as much smoke as possible. I slowly pulled air into the cigar again, and the smoke pouring into my mouth from the cigar butt was even warmer than before. Then I began to actually inhale fully, the rate of air through the cigar increasing dramatically. I could feel the smoke go down my throat, and into the depths of my chest. It tickled, tingled, and gave me an almost immediate buzz. So this is what it feels like when Chet smoked, I thought. He does this every day, and I never knew the erotic feel of a cigar in my own mouth.

I held the smoke in, just as I had seen Chet do minutes ago. As I stood there enjoying the tingling in my body, I looked at Chet, who was staring at me intently. I then exhaled a huge cloud of smoke, which blew his way. He greedily breathed in the smoke, then beamed at me with a smile that stretched his mustache across his face.

"Good job, son! That was great. You're gonna be a cigar smoker just like me!"

I felt a warm glow of pride inside me when he said that, a warmth which spread to my still-hard cock. I suddenly realized that I had a huge erection, and that Chet was staring right at it. I blushed with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about that son," Chet said as he surveyed the eight inches of my cock bursting from under my jeans, "Like me, you don't know why the cigar makes you hot, do you? Every time I smoke, the cigar makes me hard too. Sometimes I can't even look at a cigar without getting a hard-on!" Sure enough, his cock was snaking down the length of his pants leg too. "Let's get a little more comfortable Jimmy. Take off those clothes."

Again I obeyed the orders from Chet, put the cigar back in my mouth, and stripped open my button-fly crotch as fast as I could. My cock practically jumped out from my underwear, which I stripped off as well, puffing on the cigar all the while. I took off my work boots, socks and shirt, and stood there naked in front of Chet, who had also just finished stripping off his work clothes.

He was a monument to mankind, standing there naked. Although he had a little beer-gut, he was mostly solid from head to toe. Farm work will do that, and his 20 plus years of chores could put any gym rat to shame. Muscular calves, thighs, pecs, shoulders, arms, all covered with golden body hair. He had always been hairy, but his middle years had made his body hair thicker and more wiry in texture. His cock was thick and probably nine inches long, also covered with a bit of blonde pubic hair, which spread from the base of his cock over his balls and up his hairy belly. His chest was matted with greying blonde hair, and tufts of hair came out from his armpits as well. Although I couldn't see his back at the moment, I was sure it was covered with blonde fur too.

For a moment I thought of my naked body standing there. I had buzzed sandy blonde hair, and some fuzz on my legs, ass, and arms. My body was pretty fit from regular gym exercise and running, but was certainly not the monolith that Chet's was. I was still drawing heavily from the cigar, grey-white smoke pumping out of my mouth. By this time, the cigar had been smoked down to about six inches.

Chet reached for the cigar and took it from my mouth. He surveyed its length, much of which had been consumed by me. "You're workin' that stogie like a pro, boy! Let's see what other kinds of fun we can have with this cigar. Now exhale, and don't inhale again until you know you should."

I had no idea what his intent was, but I exhaled and stopped breathing. Chet languidly took a draw from the Jereboam, pulling on it and drawing the smoke deeply into his body. I wanted to get a breath, and I could tell my body would need to inhale soon. Chet had finished his inhalation, had pulled the cigar from his mouth, and moved towards me. Just before his lips touched mine, I saw his mouth open, and the wall of smoke within. I needed to get a breath, and knew he meant to exhale his cigar smoke into me, so I opened my mouth and inhaled just as he exhaled.

Our lips sealed together perfectly, and the smoke from within Chet's body blew into mine. The sharing of smoke almost seemed to last forever, and I wished it did. Feeling his bristly mustache against my face was also an erotic rush. With our lips still sealed, I exhaled back into his lungs the smoke he had just given to me. We repeated this probably six times, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling again. My entire body was charged with erotic energy, and I'm sure Chet felt the same way.

We finally separated our mouths, and smoke trailed from both of our lips. Chet looked into my eyes and said, "Yeah boy, that's called cigar sex, and I haven't done that in years. I never imagined it would be with you though. I bet you've been watching me smoke for years, haven't you boy? You've wanted to smoke my cigar, feel it in your mouth, right?"

I dropped to my knees and wrapped my lips around his salty, sweaty, hairy cock. In addition to the cigar smoke, I could smell his funky crotch, ripe from a full day of work in the fields. A dribble of pre-cum was quickly diluted by my saliva, as I hungrily covered the length of his cock with spit. As I sucked hard on Chet's cock, he sucked hard on his cigar, producing more clouds of smoke. I couldn't stop worshipping his hairy crotch, covering every inch of his cock and balls with my tongue. I sucked on each of his balls separately and ran my tongue between his thigh and ballsac, not getting enough of the sweaty cigar-man that he was.

Chet looked down at me and said, "Good work boy, you smoke that cock like you smoke your cigars! Stand up, and go over by that support beam." I wasn't happy to separate myself from his cock and balls, but did as I was told. I leaned up against the beam, and watched Chet grab some twine from storage, puffing on the cigar as he went along.

"Stand up straight, feet together, and arms at your side." Chet came at me with the bailing twine, his intentions clear. He secured my arms to my sides and my legs together with the cord, without cutting off any circulation. All I could do was move my head and bend forward, but doing so would cause me to fall. So I leaned back against the beam, waiting for Chet's next move.

He worked on his cigar, pulling deeply on it. I knew what was coming, so I exhaled. He came at me again with a lungful of thick cigar smoke, and this time we shared almost ten breaths together. Every breath was an expression of love for each other, and with every sharing of smoke I knew that I also shared a part of Chet.

Chet put the cigar back into the corner of his mouth, and walked toward a bundle of drying tobacco leaves. These leaves were damp, flimsy and still a little uncured, but had reached a deep tan in color. He took a single platter-sized leaf, and began wrapping it around my erect cock, which had not been bound to my body with the twine. As he wrapped the leaf, he said, "Let's make your cock look like a cigar. Maybe I'll smoke it if it looks real enough!" Something about this excited me, and I saw that indeed, my wrapped cock now looked just like a fresh Jereboam. Even the head of my cock now looked like the end of a cigar, with a small hole in the end for drawing smoke. Instead of my blood vessels pumping energy into my cock, there were now the veins of tobacco running through the leaf around my cock. I couldn't believe what a detailed job he did. I guess years in the cigar business will teach you things, I thought. My cock tingled slightly, perhaps from the nicotine seeping from the damp leaf.

I struggled to get more comfortable, but Chet had bound me tight. A small wave of panic went over me, but went away as I rationalized that he wouldn't hurt me. I had to trust him, now that I was tied up and helpless. Meanwhile, he was sealing the leaves around my cock by licking the dried leaf, which stuck to itself and my cock, making a smooth seal. I flexed my cock a bit, and felt that the leaf was very tightly wrapped around my cock. The saliva from Chet had made more of the tobacco chemicals seep into my cock, creating a wonderful burning and tingling sensation. It felt natural and wonderful, and I longed to have a cigar in my mouth again. I wanted as much contact with tobacco as possible, and the thought frightened me a little.

Chet had now smoked the Jereboam down to a short butt, and was in danger of singeing his mustache hairs soon. He took a last huge inhalation from the cigar and breathed into me. I couldn't get enough of his smoke, as greedy as I was for more. He then took the hot, glowing butt down towards my cock, and started to dry the damp tobacco leaf which wrapped my cock. He moved the cigar just millimeters from my tobacco-skin, up and down the length of my cigar-cock. I could feel the tobacco tightening around my cock as it dried from the heat treatment, which stimulated me even more.

Chet was finally finished processing my cock into a cigar. "There, take a look at that, boy! You have a cigar for a cock!"

I looked down, and my cock was now a tan cigar, looking like a Jereboam which was somehow attached to my body. The image drove me wild, and a moan of erotic satisfaction escaped my mouth. Chet ran his rough hands along the length of my cock-stogie. I could feel his hands, and also feel the leafy texture of my cock. Chet began to light up another cigar, this time one a little smaller than a Jereboam. I think it was called a Churchill, but the tobacco wrap on it was almost black. He took a few healthy puffs on it, and placed it into my greedy mouth. I heartily sucked smoke from the new cigar, and this time the flavor was much richer and sweeter. Whatever the flavor, I drew smoke even deeper into my lungs. My whole body was charged now, and I could hardly feel anything but the tobacco in my mouth and around my penis. Maybe my penis was tobacco, and at the moment I couldn't care less if it was.

After a few more draws into my lungs, I realized I was hardly breathing fresh air at all. I was so into the cigar smoke, that I was drawing all my breath through the cigar! In a daze, I stopped smoking and focused on what Chet was doing.

He was on his knees, apparently giving me a blow job. However, he kept his mouth at the end of my cigar cock. It appeared that smoke was coming out of his mouth, but that couldn't be! To my horror, I realized that Chet was now smoking my cock! Smoke drifted from his mouth as he sucked again and again. Somehow, he was pulling smoke from within my burning body.

And burning it was. I felt fire within my lungs, my bowels, my heart. I could not stop the overwhelming urge to draw my only source of air through the cigar in my mouth. The smoke invigorated me, and I realized that the smoke Chet was drawing from my cock came from within me and from the cigar in my mouth!

The feelings were too much to experience at once: my cock had become a cigar, my hairy buddy Chet was smoking his boy's cock-cigar, the cigar in my mouth, the smoke in my lungs, my heart racing. Suddenly, Chet's head was obscured by a huge cloud of smoke, which I realized was my cum, now turned to smoke. I came and came billowing clouds into his face, which he inhaled the best he could. At the same time he was cumming jizz all over the barn floor, moaning like an animal in heat.

I collapsed over him, still bound, exhausted from the experience. He righted me, untied me, and took the damp, chewed cigar butt from my mouth. He kissed me firmly, a bristly kiss that lasted a minute or more. I looked down at my cock, disappointed to see that it really wasn't a cigar, and much of the fantasy must have been in my mind. Or was it?

https://web.archive.org/web/20050212114701/http://www.maelstromx.com/trans/stories/story2.html

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babybluelove2 · 6 months

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what listening to too much lesley gore as a thirteen-year-old in the present time will do to you (if you are a female ben hanscom and also being stalked by a demon clown) (alternatively titled: i’ll cry)

is this anything ? does anyone care about the extremely niche version of the losers club that i made up in my head where they are all girls and also dating ? ive been having fem ben hanscom thoughts so much that i thought i would share. u can take this if u want to

~♡~

Ben Hanscom was having a bad day, to put it in schoolgirl language. The talking-to-your-mother-crying bad day, the she-holds-you-and-tells-you-everything-will-be-alright bad day. Except that wasn’t it. Because Ben Hanscom has had bad days before. Schoolgirl bad days. And she has learned to not go to her mom after them; it just makes her feel worse.

Anyway, she had this feeling, gut deep, higher-power-level, that this was not a schoolgirl bad day. That this was just going to be a bad life, at least for a little bit. Things were bad. She could deal. She was good at distractions, at keeping herself company.

Ben Hanscom was a dreamer. A Lisbon girls dreamer. (Her words; she had watched The Virgin Suicides once when she was eleven because she heard one of the characters was named Bonnie, like her. Upon watching, she felt connected to the Lisbon girls. Like if they were her friends, they would understand her in the ways her mother never could.

Bonnie Lisbon hangs herself at the end of the movie.)

She was thirteen now, Cecelia’s age, and had taken to writing in the margins of her favorite books, the ones she kept close to her heart. She liked poetry the best, it described the things she couldn’t form the words to herself, the liminal loneliness that permeated her very being.

Thirteen-year-old Ben Hanscom’s existence was poetry and music. Because music could fill a room. Music could be laughter or tears. Music could be It’s My Party by Lesley Gore.

According to the tobacco-chewing man who worked at the Virginia record store, Miss Lesley was “vintage”. Ben hadn’t known that by vintage, he had meant irreparably damaged. It’s My Party was one of the only songs on her I’ll Cry If I Want To vinyl that played all the way through. She didn’t mind much. It was her favorite song on the album. A basic pick, but Ben didn’t pride herself on her individuality. The things that made her noticeable in a crowd were the things she hated most about herself.

So it was an It’s-My-Party bad day, although Melanie Martinez’s rendition of the melody was more fitting objectively. She sat on the cheap mattress on the floor of her new bedroom and cried, Lesley Gore singing slightly off-key in the background. Today, the middle of March, was her first day at Derry Middle School. It was shit.

As a sort of first-world survival mechanism, and because of her destiny as an empath, Ben could sort out the good people from the bad. When she was little, she insisted on seeing the good in everyone, but she found with moving and new schools and a distinct lack of friends that she never got close enough to anyone to find their good. Usually this meant a lot of neutral. People would blend into the background, the type to not interfere if things got ugly when the bad presented itself.

At Derry Middle School, there was no neutral, just bad. It vibrated in the sound waves of her teachers’ voices refusing to call her Ben (“Don’t be silly, Bonnie. Ben is a boy’s name.”), dilating the pupils of her judgmental classmates’ glares. At lunch, the only flavor she tasted was the putrid peach of anxious nausea. There were no empty tables when she entered the cafeteria, so she stood around awkwardly for about a minute-and-a-half and then hid out in the bathroom for the rest of the period.

The people were mean. It took her all of five minutes to run into Henry Bowers, who told her she’d better leave his town before she regretted it, like she had a choice in the matter, and said a few choice words about her weight that would inevitably take residence in the back of her thoughts always. She slipped out of the back door after the end-of-day bell, avoiding him and going back to her aunt’s house, her new home.

The record skipped. It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to. Cry if I want to–cry–cry–cry–

Like a girl with a car-crash-induced stutter, the song caught on the word cry, over and over. It was enough to elicit a reaction from the distraught teenager in the room. A little on the nose, she thought bitterly. Ben rubbed her tears into her complexion as she went to remove the record.

She had meant to hit the off button. Someone else would say their finger slipped, but Ben knew better.

Her book of fairytales was packed away in a box somewhere. It was pink with golden sparkles and a built-in ribbon-bookmark. She didn’t need it in front of her to recount any of its tales. Sleeping Beauty was her best friend in second grade, far more reliable than anything else in her life. She used to write little confessions to Aurora, schoolgirl-bad-day musings next to her hopes and dreams.

Sleeping Beauty was cursed to prick her finger on the spinning wheel, just like Ben Hanscom was cursed to prick her finger on the needle of her record player, only she didn’t fall asleep for a hundred years.

She gasped a breath in when it happened, sticking her pointer into her mouth where it was bleeding.

The music was still playing–cry–copper was on her tongue–cry–everything felt surreal; maybe she had taken her daydreaming habit too far this time–cry–her mom always said she was too separated from reality.

The vinyl shattered. She screamed, startled, covering her face out of instinct. A shard lodged itself into her arm, right through her baggy hoodie. Another cut through her baggy sweatpants.

She scanned the room, maybe looking for her fairy godmother to step into view, rambling about how that wasn’t supposed to happen and she’s sorry, let me clean you up, darling. Or for someone entirely human to tell her she was going insane. But she was alone, the sudden quiet buzzy and disorienting.

After a pause that ensured one of her cousins wasn’t going to come and investigate, Ben moved to the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to look at the vinyl residue littering the carpet.

She was crying again by the time she pulled the pieces of vintage Lesley Gore out of her body. She had stopped some time before and was paying for it. Her tear ducts had finally caught up to produce sobs that died with the air that struggled to reach her lungs. Her clothes were ripped, and she wasn’t really in a position to afford new ones. She was in pain too, though she didn’t really feel it; all of her senses were being eclipsed by phantom hearing–cry–cry–cry–

It met Ben Hanscom that day, and her life would never be the same.

(@amorasalvatore i posted this whoops ty for listening to my ramblings)

#has anyone else ever thought that fem ben hanscom would listen to 60s girl groups and lesley gore and subsequently ended up listening to #lesley gore #sorry about the long title i learned from lana del rey my lord and savior #had to come up w a title on the spot for this it is in google docs as “ben angel loml sweetheart hanscom”#ben: im so boring i blend into the background my favorite lesley gore song is its my party #also ben: *buys all her favorite 60s albums on vinyl*#fem ben hanscom #fem losers club #it 2017 #ben hanscom #is using the main tags misleading ? this is so far removed from canon its probably easier reading with no knowledge of the actual source #ok bye <3 #if anyone wants to know more about my fem poly losers club brainrot hmu PLEASE

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bokauffmann · 4 months

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5 cigars for new smokers

Are you a beginner cigar smoker looking to enhance your smoking experience? Look no further! In this video, we'll share some invaluable tips to help you navigate the world of cigars like a pro. We'll even give you a list of 5 solid, flavorful cigars that are perfect for the new smoker.

With their rich history and complex flavors, Cigars have long captivated aficionados worldwide. However, for beginners, the world of cigars can seem daunting and intimidating. Part of this intimidation stems from the various elements of a cigar - its size, shape, wrapper, filler, and binder. Understanding these components is vital to unlocking the enjoyment that cigars can offer.

So, let us explore the fascinating world of cigars and why they can be intimidating for those just starting out. Here are three very sound tips for new cigar smokers:

Tip number 1: Start with a mild cigar - recommendations include Macanudo Café Hyde Park, Montecristo White, or Oliva Connecticut series.

When it comes to cigars, beginners often need help with the various options. Choosing the right cigar can be daunting, especially for those who have yet to develop their palate. That's why tip number one is simple: start with a mild cigar.

Mild cigars are known for their smooth and subtle flavors, making them the perfect introduction to the world of cigars. They offer a gentler smoking experience that allows beginners to ease into the complexities of tobacco without being overwhelmed.

Tip number 2: Look for a cigar with a Connecticut wrapper for a smoother taste

When selecting a cigar, the wrapper is one of the most important factors to consider. The wrapper leaf plays a significant role in the overall flavor profile of the cigar, as it contributes to the aroma and taste. A cigar with a Connecticut wrapper is an excellent choice for beginners seeking a smoother taste.

Connecticut wrappers are known for their light, golden-brown color, and delicate texture. They are typically shade-grown under muslin cloth or in greenhouses, which results in milder flavors and a smoother smoking experience. These wrappers tend to have subtle notes of creaminess, cedar, and sometimes hints of sweetness, making them an excellent option for beginners who want to ease into the world of cigars without overwhelming their taste buds.

Tip #3: Pay attention to the size and shape of the cigar

Another essential aspect to consider when starting with cigars is the size and shape. Cigars come in a variety of sizes and shapes, each offering a unique smoking experience. It's generally recommended for beginners to start with a classic size - such as a Robusto or Toro.

These sizes are known for their balanced proportions, allowing for an even burn and consistent flavors. Their medium ring gauge (typically around 50) provides a comfortable smoking experience without being too overwhelming. Additionally, their length (usually between 4 and a half to 6 inches) ensures a manageable smoking time that allows beginners to fully enjoy the flavors without feeling rushed.

Next, we will give you a list of 5 flavorful cigars which are highly recommended for new smokers, but please take a minute to like this video and subscribe, would you? Thank you so much!

Macanudo Cafe Hyde Park: The Macanudo Cafe Hyde Park is famous for beginners due to its smooth and mellow flavor profile. It features a Connecticut Shade wrapper, which lends a creamy and slightly sweet taste with notes of cedar. The Hyde Park size, measuring 5.5 inches by 49 ring gauge, offers a comfortable smoking experience that allows you to savor the flavors without feeling overwhelmed.

When smoking, you'll find flavors like delicate creaminess, subtle cedar, and occasional hints of sweetness. This combination creates a well-rounded and enjoyable smoking experience for beginners.

Oliva Connecticut Reserve Petite Corona, The Oliva Connecticut Reserve Petite Corona, is another excellent choice for beginners. With its Ecuadorian Connecticut wrapper, this cigar delivers a smooth and creamy smoking experience.

The petite corona size, measuring 5 inches by 43 ring gauge, is perfect for those who prefer a shorter smoking time. It offers flavors of toasted nuts, subtle spices, and a hint of sweetness, making it an enjoyable option for beginners exploring milder flavors.

Romeo y Julieta 1875 Bully: For those looking for a classic and well-known cigar brand, the Romeo y Julieta 1875 Bully is a great choice. This 5-inch by 50-ring gauge cigar features an Indonesian shade-grown wrapper that produces smooth and mild smoke.

The flavors of cedar, nuts, and subtle sweetness make it an appealing option for beginners. With its consistent construction and approachable flavor profile, the Romeo y Julieta 1875 Bully is a reliable choice for those new to cigars.

The Montecristo White Lable Grande Tubos Robusto, The Montecristo White Label Grande Tubos Robusto, is a premium cigar sure to impress beginners and seasoned smokers. Measuring 5 inches by 52 ring gauge, this Robusto-sized beauty offers a generous smoking experience.

Its stunning Ecuadorian Connecticut wrapper, which lends a smooth and creamy character, sets the Montecristo White Label apart. The flavors of this cigar are rich and complex, with notes of cedar, leather, and a touch of sweetness that lingers on the palate. The construction of the Montecristo White Label is impeccable, ensuring an even burn and a satisfying draw with each puff. The Grande Tubos packaging adds a touch of elegance and convenience, allowing you to enjoy this exquisite cigar wherever you go.

The CAO Gold Robusto The CAO Gold Robusto is a cigar that combines quality and affordability, making it an excellent choice for beginners. Measuring 5 inches by 50 ring gauge, this Robusto-sized cigar offers an approachable and enjoyable medium-bodied smoking experience.

Its beautiful Connecticut seed Ecuadorian wrapper sets the CAO Gold Robusto apart, which gives it a smooth and creamy flavor profile. The notes of vanilla, cedar, and a hint of spice create a well-balanced combination that will please any palate.

The construction of the CAO Gold Robusto is top-notch, ensuring that each puff delivers a consistent and satisfying draw. With its affordable price point, the CAO Gold Robusto allows beginners to explore the world of cigars without breaking the bank. Whether relaxing at home or out on the golf course, this cigar will surely provide a pleasurable smoking experience every time.

The leisure of smoking cigars is one of the fastest growing hobbies in the world. Learning to appreciate the flavors, qualities and workmanship that goes into these fine works of art is a lifelong journey. Please watch this next video, which has been handpicked for you.

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