Dec 10, 2023
carpenter's boy
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carpenter's boy
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A fanart of Jojo's I made months ago lol.
Polnareff my beloved
NEED👏THAT👏MAN👏PREGNANT *SEASON TWO* ROUND 1 POLL 146
TUMBLR! Who's getting pregnant?
Saint Joseph (The Bible)
Singed (Arcane)
PROPAGANDA:
[Joseph]
"So he knows what Mary went through."
[Singed]
"He gets crazy and starts inventing new war crimes when he doesn't have a child to take care of. Getting him pregnant is a humanitarian mission."
The Girl No One Noticed X Eddie Munson
MasterList
Joseph Quinn Masterlist
Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist
I’d always been the quiet girl at the back of the classroom the one teachers forgot to call on, the one boys never bothered to talk to unless they needed a pencil or answers to last week’s homework. I wasn’t invisible, not exactly, but I definitely wasn’t someone people looked for.
In some ways, I’d grown used to it. Expected it, even. Everyone had their place in high school, and mine seemed to be somewhere between the spare chair and the bookshelf.
The boys in my year loud, messy, chaotic hardly ever noticed I existed. They’d laugh with each other, talk about girls who looked nothing like me, and tease the ones they actually found interesting. I was never on that list.
Not even close.
And every time I liked someone, there was always something wrong with him.
He drank too much. He smoked behind the gym. He cheated on his girlfriend. He had a reputation he’d definitely earned.
It made me feel stupid for even hoping.
So I stopped expecting anything. I kept my head down, books close, dream of love quietly folded into the back of my mind like a note no one would ever read.
Until Eddie Munson sat next to me.
It happened on a Thursday the kind of day where everything felt slightly off-kilter. Mrs. Kline had rearranged the seating plan because she “felt the energy in the room had grown stale.” Everyone knew that just meant she was bored.
I usually sat by the window. Quiet corner. Easy escape.
But when I walked in, my seat was already taken.
By him.
Eddie Munson. Leather jacket. Wild hair. Soft brown eyes that held mischief and warmth in equal measure.
He glanced up the moment I hesitated by the desk.
“Oh,” he said, smiling, like he’d been waiting. “You’re Y/N, right?”
My stomach flipped. People rarely used my name unless I reminded them of it.
“Um… yeah. That’s me.”
Mornings with you - Johnny Sinclair
content : fluffy, fluff, fluff, reader and johnny are sleeping together, established relationship, relationship is fairly new (not mentioned), reader has hair, cuddling !
summary : literally justreader and johnny getting out of bed in the morning—or lack thereof
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
it had been at least four hours since you’d both woken up for the first time at 7 a.m.
you’d whispered ‘good morning’s’ to one and other, smiling and even a little shy in that first-thing-in-the-morning way. then you’d tucked your head into his chest, draped your leg back over his hip and weaved your fingers through his hair.
he’d woken up first that time—barely seconds before you had, he watched you for a couple seconds before you started stirring, then you regained your senses that sleep had numbed, smelt his weird, expensive all in one shampoo, that supposedly smelt like coconut before he’d swam and surfed too much and it stared smelling like salt, sea and something else that you guessed was the scent of coconut fighting to not be rid of, you felt his arms, one slung over your waist lazily, his hand tucked just under the curve of your ribs, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin, his other arm under you, being squashed by your weight for so long that having a blood supply may as well have been considered a luxury than a necessity, especially since he swears he’d rather have it fall off before moving it.
lastly, you heard his breathing, even and familiar and a little faster than you knew it to sound when he was asleep.
so, considering all of those things, you opened your eyes and there he was, a small smile on his lips, eyes half lidded, hair a tousled mess, eyebrows raising a little when his eyes met yours, like he’d wanted you to sleep forever and a little longer.
you whispered, ‘morning,’ and so did he. you said you felt gross, he told you that you looked perfect. you called him a lair. he called himself your boyfriend.
you smiled and scrunched your nose, before nestling your head into his chest. he kissed your hair and there was a little pillow talk, until your breathing fell back into that tired rhythm and so did his.
the next time, you woke up first and it was already a quarter past nine.
his lips were slightly parted, releasing small puffs of air every so often, a few damaged, bleached blonde stands of his hair fell onto his forehead, his arm still tight around your middle like he was afraid you’d take off at any given moment—even in his sleep.
your fingers parted through his hair, pushing back the hair that lay across his forehead, brushing it back, letting your finger nails gently scrape against his scalp in the way you knew he’d always loved so much.
then his breathing caught and his mouth closed—he waited a couple seconds, as if to see if you’d stop if he shifted, or woke up too fast—then his lips curled into a grin—a pleased, content grin. his eyes flickered open and met yours immediately.
he told you that it was considered creepy to watch people whilst they sleep. you denied all charges and claimed that he snored—he did a little. he called you a liar. you made ridiculous snorting noises that were supposed to mimic his snoring and called him a tractor.
he was adamant that you were lying. you teased him and he called you mean. you countered him by reminding him that he loved you. he agreed, without a second thought, pulled you back in and pressed dozens of kisses to your forehead.
you melted back into him instantly, your leg wrapping back over his hip, your foot pressing against the back of his thigh, letting out a little sigh as you did so. his head nudged its way into the crook of your neck, taking advantage of your hair laying against it, using it as a pillow and taking in the soft smell that he loved so much.
he suggested that the two of you stay like that all day and as much as you wanted to, you refused and said you had to be real people and that others would notice if the two of you disappeared all day. he told you that the world could survive without you guys for one day.
you called him clingy, although you were already pushing your arm up through the duvet to let your fingers drag through his hair like they’d never left. he called himself your boyfriend, yet again and then you announced that you’d both only stay in bed like that for five more minutes.
five minutes became ten and ten became fifteen then you’d both drifted back off to sleep—until it was just a couple minutes shy of eleven a.m and of course, he woke up first—after you explicitly told him not to let you sleep in all day.
he weighed out his options : wake you right then and face your fake-mad attitude, let you sleep for longer and face your real mad attitude or pretend that he was also asleep and let nature take its own course.
as tempting as the last option was, he knew he should wake you up.
so he did, and to his surprise you were hardly mad. all he got was a groan, but you were just as tired as him and you couldn’t be mad at him right after waking up, not when he already looked like he was bracing himself.
when you finally stared sitting up to push yourself out of bed to make yourself presentable, his arms tightened around your waist, keeping you stuck in place. you accused him of wanting you to look like a sleepy mess all day. he told you that that wasn’t true at all and the you looked cute that way anyways.
after johnny failed miserably at trying to convince you that you guys laying in bed for at least three days was ‘self care’, and people did it all the time, you managed to peel his arm off of you and slip out from under him.
he whined and called you a monster. you told him you’d take that over being lazy. he groaned.
when convincing him to get up wasn’t enough, you pressed the tiniest, quickest, barely-there kiss to his lips and told him he wasn’t getting anymore if he didn’t get up and brush his teeth.
he got up and stayed wrapped around you like a koala whilst you brushed your own teeth and washed your face, trying to occupy him with one hand combing through his hair as you sorted yourself out, his head stuffed in the curve of your neck.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
David Dastmalchian in The Creep Tapes