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trashmouth-richie · 2 years

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[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.

W/C: 6.4k

A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.

Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)

S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.

You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.

After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.

After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—

“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”

“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”

He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.

“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”

Fucking pig.

The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.

His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.

“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.

He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.

“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”

A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.

You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.

“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”

“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”

He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.

“What about it?”

“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.

You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.

“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”

“Bless you.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”

It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.

“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”

He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.

You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.

The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.

You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.

On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.

One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.

You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”

He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.

You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.

You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”

He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.

“You’re so gross!”

“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.

Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.

“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”

You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.

“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”

The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.

“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”

“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”

“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.

You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.

Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.

“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”

“Eddie!”

He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.

Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”

Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.

“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.

“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”

That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.

“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“

“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”

“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”

“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”

“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”

Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.

“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”

“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”

You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.

Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.

“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.

Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”

“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.

“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”

Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.

Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”

Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”

Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.

The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.

“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”

Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”

“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.

Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”

“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”

Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”

The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.

“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..

“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”

Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.

Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”

“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”

Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.

Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.

He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.

It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.

He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.

“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”

You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.

“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”

Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”

“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”

The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.

“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”

She wasn’t the only one.

Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”

It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.

“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”

The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.

The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.

Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.

Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?

They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.

Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.

The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.

Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.

All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.

Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.

A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.

His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.

Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.

Demon eyed.

He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.

Not you, not Tooty.

His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”

He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.

He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.

The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.

Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.

He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.

The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.

“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”

When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.

Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.

“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”

“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.

You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”

“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”

“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”

Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.

“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”

“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”

Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.

“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together

You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.

“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”

“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.

“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”

“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”

“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“

“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”

“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.

He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”

“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.

“Don’t care.”

Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”

“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”

Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”

The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.

He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.

He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.

Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.

“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”

Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.

“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.

“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.

“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.

You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.

He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.

“Thanks.”

“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.

“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.

That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.

“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”

“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”

“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Were?” you say slyly.

“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”

“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”

He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”

Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.

Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”

You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.

“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.

“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”

Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.

////

SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V

[volume: 5]

putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩

#eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #roommate!eddie #roommate!eddie munson

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ageofnations · 1 year

Text

Carried Away // sfk

Summary: college roommates, friends to lovers

Word Count: ~8.4k

Warnings: 18+ only, smut with plot (and a shit ton of fluff), brief mention of insecurities, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex, let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: it’s been a while, i hope this makes up for it <3

“So you’re not going out or anything?”

He was scurrying about the room when he said it, which is why you almost didn’t hear the question in the first place. He was rushing in an organized frenzy, speaking around the toothbrush in his mouth while he slipped into the sleeves of his button-up. Over the television in front of you, you could hear the kitchen faucet turning on, the sounds of his brushing quickly accompanying it. You smiled at the mental image of him behind you, hovering over the sink as he prepared for his night out.

You never understood why he chose to spend his weekends like this, worried about who he’d see, what he was gonna wear, and what pick-up line he’d use first with the other partygoers.

“Nope,” you answered simply, snuggling a little closer to your blanket to solidify your answer. It was much cozier than what he was doing at least.

He spit the toothpaste out - an exaggerated noise that makes you wince - and paused. You imagined the stare he was giving you as he spoke. “You could come with me!”

You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt at persuasion, something you had gotten much too used to throughout your friendship. “And watch you get shitfaced and flirt with anyone that gets too close to you? Yeah, no I’d rather not.”

It wasn’t the first time Sam tried to convince you to accompany him at yet another party. It’s what he always did, on the weekends especially. When you’d try to hide away and catch up on assignments or much-needed sleep, he’d try to drag you out with him. You were beginning to wonder how he manages such a good academic status when he didn’t seem to be in college to actually learn.

He rarely knew what the occasion was that garnered the parties in question. Was it a frat party? What frat was hosting? A house party whose owner was unknown? A birthday party of a friend of a friend’s? The answer never mattered, but Sam was sure to be there. Said it “boosted morale,” whatever that meant.

There was only one time in which you fell victim to his coaxing. One night after a tough week where you were completely caught up, even ahead in some of the projects for various classes. You deserved the time to loosen up and stop focusing on your grades for once, and your roommate surely knew how to do that. He was your number one supporter when you told him you were considering his offer.

The night ended sooner than it began, with you leaving prematurely and telling him to call you when he needed you to pick him up. You tried to leave as quickly as possible, but not before you had seen his advancements on someone you knew was much less than what he deserved.

He was your best friend, and you couldn’t help being a little protective of him.

“Not my fault I have such a charming personality,” he called out.

That was one way to put it.

You couldn’t keep your eyes from rolling at his statement, but the sly smile on your lips showed that you were far from annoyed.

By the time he finished up at the sink, quickly disappearing into the bathroom to deposit his toothbrush, you were able to rid of the rosy color on your cheeks. But when he came back, you instantly felt the blush returning.

“You could at least invite someone over so you aren’t holed up by yourself on a Friday night. What about that friend of yours from chem?”

You tried to hide the fact that your eyes widened when you glanced up at him. He was only buttoning up his shirt, and you had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but there was something about seeing the tanned skin of his torso that would never get old.

Tearing your gaze away from him was the only way you could return to the conversation at hand. You had to take a second to remind yourself of who he was even referring to.

“Yeah?” You sneered. “And do what?”

“I don’t know. Paint each other’s nails and gossip or whatever it is that girls do.”

No matter how hard you tried to hold it in, a laugh escaped you. You hated how easily his comments could amuse you, no matter how immature. “You are a child.”

“Am not!” He whined defensively, letting out a laugh that matched yours. “I just want you to have some fun for once!”

“I will have fun. Right here on the couch with my shitty soap operas.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes at you, shaking his head as he made his way back to the kitchen and out of sight of you. “You could go pick up some more groceries. I used the rest of the almond milk this morning.”

You twisted your body so you could peer over the back of the couch at him, squinting your eyes in contempt as he nonchalantly sauntered to the cabinet for a glass to drink from. “So it sounds like you should go get some since you keep using it all.”

He waved a dismissive hand at you while he ran the cup under the tap. “Yeah, but now it gives you something to do!”

His head tipped back to take a quick swig before dumping the remaining liquid into the sink. You watched him continue to rush through the room, smiling at him stuffing his belongings in his pockets. “I’ll be back later tonight,” he promised.

“Call me if I need to pick you up.”

It was sincere, your offer. It was something you always said on nights like these, before he left for his next outing and you knew he’d probably be under the influence. He rarely took you up on it, always making friends with whoever remained sober enough to take him home, but he knew the offer still stood.

He also knew how you’d more than likely be asleep by the time he was ready to come home, and he wanted to avoid interrupting your slumber.

“Yes, mother,” he quipped, finally making his way to the door. He paused before stepping outside, long enough to shoot you a genuine smile and playful wink. “Bye, y/n.”

The break in his sarcasm made your face warm for the umpteenth time tonight. “Bye, Sammy. Have fun.”

The door was already shutting behind him as you heard him call out a faint “You too!”

And with a click of the latch, you were left alone in the living room you shared with your best friend, the soap opera on TV your only company.

————

Hours passed with no word from Sammy. You could imagine the fun he was having while you stayed glued to the cushion you sat on. You could see his smile as he flaunted his charisma to whoever would listen. How his pinkie would swipe across the bottom of his cup while he connected with the other partygoers. You knew he was having a good time, but for some reason, you still felt uneasy.

Your phone would wake you up if he called, but the idea of something happening to him while you were asleep worried you more than anything. It was your goal to stay awake for as long as possible, and you tried to do anything that would help you achieve that goal.

You hoped that a snack would give you more energy to endure the night, but you still found yourself dozing off. You even cycled through various channels whenever you felt your eyelids getting heavy, abandoning the series Sam left you with for a marathon of cheesy holiday romance movies.

It wasn’t long before you got bored with those though, the storylines much too repetitive and predictive. Soon enough, you couldn’t find an interest in guessing who the main protagonist would end up with or what the overall resolution would be.

But right before you let yourself succumb to your drowsiness, you heard the front door slowly open. You let yourself glance over at the doorway, the dim silhouette of Sammy barely visible from the soft light of the television.

He smiled once he saw you move, indicating he was waiting to see if you were awake before he spoke. “Hey.”

You returned the smile as a greeting, wiping at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more. “You’re back already?” you asked through a yawn.

“Don’t sound too excited.” He was smirking through his jesting, shrugging as he continued. “Party was lame, came back to crash this one.”

“Oh yeah, you certainly crashed this party. Soap opera and all.” You rolled your eyes at him, an action that seemed to be routine no matter what you were talking about.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have anyone join you for such a titillating experience.”

He was practically dripping in sarcasm, but that made you feel that much more endeared by him. He still hadn’t moved from where he stood, perched against the wall across the room. It looked as if he were studying you, surveying to see just how good your comebacks would be.

You shrugged. “No one wanted to gossip with me while they got their nails painted.”

You thought your response was funny, inspiration coming back from his earlier quip, but he looked past the humor. His face contorted into something that resembled disbelief, and in one swift motion, he pushed off of the wall and crossed the distance to you.

“Are you joking? I’ll volunteer!” He tossed his wallet and keys on the coffee table in front of you.

“Sam, what-”

“I’ll be right back.” And before you could ask anything further, he had disappeared into the bathroom. You heard him rummaging around in the drawers and cabinets before he came back into view, clutching all of the nail polish and supplies you own. “I didn’t know what colors you’d want so I brought the whole thing.”

“Me?”

He gives you a sideways glance, as if you both had been planning to do this all night. “Yeah? You’re gonna let me do yours too, right?”

“I- I dunno.” It seemed valid to be slightly taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm for such an activity. It felt strange for him to even want his nails painted, even more so for him to want to do the work to paint yours.

“Oh come on, it’s only fair!”

He placed the various bottles on the coffee table before sitting on the cushion beside you, never looking away from you so he could further drive his point. Chipping away at your resolve, piece by piece.

You raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. “Sam, have you ever painted someone’s nails before?”

“I painted my sister’s once for a dance,” he said with a shrug, turning so his body was facing you and his legs were tucked under each other. He continued once he noticed your criticism was still intact. “She didn’t ask me to do her nails after that.”

“Then no!” You laughed. “What color do you want?”

His persuasion didn’t stop there. He perused your collection of bright hues and dark shades, finally landing on a light green polish as his choice. “You’ve got to let me at least try!”

You decided to ignore his statement for the chance to poke fun at his selection. You twisted the bottle in your hand, looking at the liquid with judgment. “Snot green? Really?”

He shrugged. “It looks like Sadie.”

Sadie. The neon pothos plant that sat on a table in the corner of the living room, soaking up the morning sun that would peek through the curtains. It was something you came across during a trip to the local farmer’s market. A plant that was so low maintenance but somehow barely hanging on when you first laid eyes on it. Sammy had insisted that you buy it so you both could nurse it back to health, and within minutes, he was carrying it to the car and discussing potential names for the ‘child’ you now parented together.

The color of the polish did match the plant’s leaves almost perfectly, now that you thought about it, but you had never made that comparison before. It didn’t seem like a color one would want on their nails, hence why it was mostly full and barely used.

You shook your head at him while you twisted to face him, mimicking his position as you shook the bottle in your hands.

“What do I do with these buckaroos?” Sam asked, his hands waving around wildly.

You grabbed his hands just as he began to shoot finger guns at you. “Calm down, cowboy,” you said through a laugh. “Just- here.”

Searching for the best placement for his hands, you finally decided to place one on your knee and the other on your ankle. You tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach from his hands on your bare skin.

“I can’t believe you just referred to your hands as buckaroos,” you teased under your breath.

The taunt earned you a squeeze to your knee from Sam, who knew the tickling sensation would make you giggle. “Don’t act like you’re too cool for me, y/n,” he warned. “You’re the one who spends your Friday nights watching… whatever this is.”

You followed his eyes to the TV screen, focusing just as the characters had just shared a passionate kiss in the snow, its artificiality painfully obvious.

You returned your attention to the task at hand, readying the brush for the first stroke on his nail. “And you’re the one who abandoned your sick party to get your nails done.”

He scoffed, but in the end, he remained silent. And you took that as a win.

Doing someone else’s nails is much different than doing your own. It takes more focus, awareness of the other individual’s movements and tremors, and precision to get the task done just right. But luckily for you, Sammy didn’t squirm as much as you thought he would. He remained perfectly still so you could finish pretty quickly.

When the polish dried - thankfully not too long after you completed it - you smiled at the job well done, glancing up to the boy in front of you to tell him you were finished.

“That’s it? Oh, this should be easy, then.” He lifted his hands to eye level, grinning to himself as he surveyed the results. He leaned over to the other polishes on the table. “What color do you want?”

You shrugged. “Surprise me.”

“In that case-” His decision was quick, and before you knew it, he was smirking at you and brandishing the same bottle of polish you had used on him just moments prior.

“Oh, not the snot, Samuel. You must hate me,” you huffed through a laugh.

“You don’t want to match me and Sadie? It’ll be like we’re one big happy family!” He seemed too excited for his own good, even if you were only half joking about denying him. And who were you to disappoint your best friend?

So you didn’t. You let him continue with the plan he was so enthusiastic about, watching as he eagerly unscrewed the top and got to work.

He had trouble finding the most practical placement of your hands, on top of the logistics of keeping the polish close without it being in the way. He tried to use the same technique as you, but it didn’t seem to be comfortable enough for him. Ultimately, you ended up holding the bottle in the hand not being painted while your other was held in his own.

With the proximity, you allowed yourself to take in the details of the scene. How his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes barely crossed in concentration. How the tip of his tongue would peek from his lips as he swiped the brush near your cuticles, careful to keep it as neat as possible. How his nose would twitch ever so slightly as if that was the only movement he could spare for the time being.

You also noticed some of his long, brunette locks threaten to shift from behind his ear, and you knew he was itching to tuck them back into place. Even his fingers were trembling a little, making you wonder if the task - despite being completely unnecessary - had made him a little more nervous than he let on.

It all would’ve made you giggle to yourself if you weren’t ordered to stay as still as possible.

“Stop staring at me to distract me.”

You tore your gaze from your conjoined hands to glance up at him again. It felt as if you had been caught in a bad lie, although it would be completely normal to ‘stare’ in this scenario.

Smugly, you answered with “I’m not.”

It wasn’t a lie. Maybe you were looking a little too intensely, but you were definitely not doing it to distract him. God forbid your nails actually look as if they were covered in slime.

“Well,” he said after rolling his eyes at you. “Stop it”

That made you giggle. The sense of frustration in his voice that you couldn’t quite find the basis of. He sounded almost like a child telling a bully to leave them alone.

“Do I make you nervous?”

You were mainly joking when you asked the question. Of course you’d like to know if there was even the slightest possibility that you affected him in such a way, but you weren’t brave enough to ask without the sarcasm.

But there was something about it that made him pause, the hesitation barely noticeable as he quickly returned to his duties.

“You wish,” he mumbled. “I just can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Shh,” he cut you off with a swat to your thigh, his own giggles filling the space. “You’re moving too much.”

You glared at him with a halfhearted pout, frustrated at his impeccable ability to change the subject so quickly. Deciding you’d lean into the childish act, you pointedly closed your eyes. “I just won’t look at you at all.”

Maybe you were being a little juvenile, but where’s the fun in maturity?

It would’ve been within his rights to get annoyed with you, but instead, you could sense Sam’s head shaking in feigned disapproval. His voice was almost fond as he chastised you. “You are infuriating.”

Eventually, after a few beats of silence between you both, you felt him twist the cap back into the bottle and remove it from your hand. You waited until after you heard the soft clink of the glass being set back on the coffee table. Deciding he had probably had enough of your act, you peeked open your eyes, chancing to stand down and let him win whatever game you were playing.

What you didn’t expect was to see his lips pursed and approaching your fingers he still held in his hand. You felt your stomach twist into a knot of anticipation and nerves, but it immediately loosened with the realization of what he was actually doing.

Sam blew a cool stream of air on your nails, drying the wet polish more efficiently. The sensation made you giggle softly to yourself, relief bubbling from you.

He paused his actions upon hearing the noise. “What?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but once his lips returned to his previous action, you dissolved into another fit of giggles.

“Y/n, what is so funny?”

“It’s stupid, really,” you squeaked in between laughs, shaking your head in an effort to compose yourself and dissuade his interest in your hysterics. Seeing his raised eyebrow, though, proved you were unsuccessful. “I just- it looked like you were gonna kiss my hand, with the way you had your… nevermind. Just forget it.”

Although you started your explanation with confidence, seeing his expression turn from confusion into something more devious made you second-guess yourself. If anything, you expected him to laugh it off and continue what he was doing. You did not expect him to look almost… curious.

It was as if you had taken him by surprise, but his initial shock had mixed with intrigue. His mouth opened, but closed to form a knowing smirk before huffing a laugh. “If you wanted me to kiss your hand, you could’ve just asked.”

Although you tried to remain unphased by his words, the teasing quality of them made your cheeks flame. “And why would I want that?”

A simple shrug was all you received as an answer before he resumed the task, looking up at you with coy eyes and feigned innocence while air fanned over your fingertips. You noted that his lips were significantly closer to your hands now.

Attempting to regain your footing, you tried to come up with a quip of your own. “I think you’re projecting,” you accused with a humorless laugh.

He rewarded you with an eye roll, a reaction you were hoping for. You hoped he would leave it at that, move on from the subject so you could have the last word. Instead, he added, “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it before.”

“About what?”

He chuckled. “About kissing me.”

You could only manage to scoff at him, in utter disbelief at where this conversation had gone. It was supposed to be a joke, just something else for you to share a laugh about. But now, he seemed completely serious. But he couldn’t be, could he? Not about something that would cross every unspoken boundary of your friendship.

And even if he was serious, you’d still never tell him the truth. You’d never tell him that yes you have thought about it, plenty of times. And you’d certainly never tell him that your thoughts have traveled further than just a simple kiss. Not about how convenient it would be to slip into his room when you’re lonely and searching for affection at night. How easy it would be to ease into a routine of spending countless nights cuddled up together, whispering sweet nothings and nuzzling into each other as you leave kisses across whatever skin you had access to.

He was just your best friend, but living in the same residence had only given you a taste of domesticity with him. The resistance to acknowledge your attraction was only made worse when you saw him with messy hair from a good night’s rest or bare-chested after his showers. His charm was inescapable now that he was almost always around you, but his natural flirtiness always made you question if you should try to escape. Or if you should consider leaning into the feelings that were brewing for him.

Of course, in an act of self-preservation, you made yourself avoid and ignore any pining you had ever experienced for him.

But you would never tell him any of that.

“Would it help you admit it if I told you I’ve thought about it?” The question broke the silence that had unintentionally settled between you. He could tell that you were thinking about something, and he liked the thought that he was the cause of your contemplation. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, though.

Once again, you tried to laugh it off. To stall and push another joke to escape the situation you had somehow gotten yourself into. “Of course, you’d think about kissing yourself, you egomaniac.”

For a moment, you thought you won, taking his laughter as a good sign. But you should’ve known better. “No, doofus. Kissing you.”

And just like that, the breath was stolen from your lungs. You couldn’t laugh anymore. You couldn’t roll your eyes. You couldn’t run from this. Not anymore.

Of course, you knew what he meant as soon as he said it, but something in you wanted to deny it and continue with your avoidance. But with it in the open, obvious and crystal clear, there was nothing left for you to do but face it.

“I’ve thought about it since the first day in Comms,” he started again, this time a little more hesitant and cautious.

The mention of the communications class almost made you wince - an introductory public speaking course that was required for all students to take. You dreaded signing up for it, and your hatred for public speaking persisted even after you passed with flying colors. But luckily for you, something good had come out of that class, other than a boosted GPA.

It was how you met Sammy, after all. Paired together for a collaborative project, you both bonded over your disdain for the class. As opposed to you, though, he actually seemed to have confidence when he’d present.

“You’d always chew on your bottom lip before it was your time to speak. That’s how I knew you were nervous,” he continued. The mention of your anxious habits made you realize you were currently doing exactly what he was speaking of: biting at your lip to quell the nerves. “You were nervous, but it was like you owned the room, when you got up there. Your passion was… unmatched.”

He seemed to be talking to himself as he reminisced, marveling at something you had never noticed about yourself. You saw him look down at your fingers that he still held in his hands, the nail polish surely dried by now. He had no reason for his grasp to persist, but he continued for the sake of fidgeting and toying with your hand as if it were natural to him. He huffed a laugh before he resumed.

“We were always assigned stupid topics, but even then, I couldn’t look away. And when I tried to focus and pay attention to the content you were talking about, I’d always get distracted looking at your lips… So yeah, I’ve thought about it a bit.” He spoke quietly, another breath of nervous laughter to punctuate. He chanced a look back at you, softening as he saw your watchful eyes on him. “You’re blushing, and that makes me think about it even more.”

It wasn’t until he pointed it out that you realized your cheeks were warmer than usual. You tore your eyes away from him and back down to his fingers.

He was right. Hearing his admission made you want to concede as well. And a deep breath was all you had to take before you muttered your own confession. “...I’ve thought about it too.”

“Will you let me then?” He didn’t miss a beat, seemingly eager to get the question out.

“Sammy…”

“Just once? Just to satisfy our curiosity?” His hands gripped tighter to yours, now completely holding onto them as if they were his lifeline. “And if you don’t like it, we don’t have to talk about this ever again. It’ll be like it never happened.

The sheer anticipation that was building in his voice made it obvious that he was being genuine, that he truly wanted this. But you still hesitated.

If something happened during the kiss, if he realized he didn’t like it as much as he expected, you’d still have to deal with the consequences. You may not talk about it, like he promised, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t bother him. As tempting as the offer was, you didn’t want to risk your friendship for a moment’s worth of satisfaction.

But it wasn’t that likely with a single kiss, right?

“...Just once,” you finally settled, speaking before you realized your mouth was even open.

You expected him to jump on the opportunity as soon as you gave him your consent, hungry and desperate to avoid you going back on your word. But instead, he was gentle, cautious in how he approached you.

He held a grin as he placed his hands on your cheeks, the skin of his palms somewhat clammy from being in contact with yours for so long. You watched with bated breath as he inched closer to you, trying to give you plenty of time to back out. But once he realized that you wouldn’t, he let go of all reserves.

Kissing him was a little different than you had expected. You imagined stiff and awkward, unnatural and abnormal. You imagined your lips as puzzle pieces of the same cut, destined to be in each other’s company but not necessarily made for one another. You imagined feeling icky and wrong before, during, and after the kiss ensued.

But this… this was unlike anything you could’ve possibly prepared for. This was easy. This was comfortable.

Out of your fair share of kisses, this was undeniably your favorite. And out of all of the ‘first’ kisses with anyone, you knew they could never compare to this.

It felt as if you melted into Sammy’s mouth, instantly falling under a spell that caused you to dissolve into nothingness. He wasn’t forceful in his approach, he didn’t try to take over, he didn’t proceed in a manner to coax more from you. He simply kissed you to revel in the moment. Just for the sake of kissing.

But just like all good moments, it came to an end much too quickly. The separation felt forced, as if he was reluctant to pull away from you. Which might have been why he didn’t put too much space between you when your lips disconnected. His hands fell from your face, landing to rest on your knees, but you were still mere inches from one another.

“Good?” He mumbled.

All you could do was nod, much too entranced in all things him. How he smelled, how his hands felt on you, how he kept shifting his gaze from your eyes to your lips.

He was holding back, trying to keep his promise of “just one kiss.” It was obvious to you that he didn’t want to overstep, that he was trying to follow your lead. But that kiss had sparked an overwhelming desire within you both, and you simply did not have as much restraint as he. All it took was one more fleeting glance at your lips before you found yourself leaning in to meet his again.

This time, you could feel his smile, the remainder of a laugh huffing from his nostrils. He seemed to find amusement in your desperation.

Although you quickly felt yourself falling into another daze, you were hyper-focused on Sam’s hands. Their placement. The way they had involuntarily twitched as soon as you kissed him again. How they had started to move up your thighs. How the tips of his fingers brushed under the fabric of your pajama shorts as they traveled upward and kneaded your skin. It wasn’t long before they found your hips and tugged.

You were in his lap before you knew it, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you tried to balance the push and pull of the kiss that immediately deepened. A gentle nip to your bottom lip caused a soft moan to tremble from you, making him chuckle and pull away again.

“Don’t get too carried away,” he mumbled against your lips, rushing to place additional pecks on the corner of your mouth.

You tried to match the sarcasm evident in his tone. “No, I’d never.”

“What happened to just one?”

“I’d ask the same to you- oh.” His lips had managed to travel down your neck, and a bite to your collarbone had led to your quip drawing out into a whine.

Kisses turned into lips lazily dragging across skin, soft grunts turned to deep, ragged pants. He was letting you take what you wanted from him, what you needed. He didn’t mind that you were unabashedly whimpering into his neck, he didn’t even poke fun at how your hunger had caused your hips to grind against him. It only spurred him on that much more.

His head tipped back as he let out a groan, muttering a simple “Christ...” as if he were begging the deity to give him strength.

You didn’t imagine God would be too happy with the acts being committed, if he were looking down on you right now, but Sammy’s plea seemed to work. His hands stilled your hips as he shifted, and promptly, you were lying on your back with him hovering over you.

You were feeling bold, and sure in your actions. So when his fingertips graced the bare skin that resided under the hem of your shirt, you let him remove it from you. But when he bent to kiss you again, you felt the cool metal of his necklace against your chest, and you soon felt much too exposed.

He felt your body stiffen, and he immediately ceased his actions. “Y/n, what-” he stopped his question as soon as he broke away from you. You had covered yourself and shielded away from his gaze, making him realize just what had caused your apprehension. “Don’t do that. Let me see you.”

Your wrists were bound in his hand and pinned into the cushion above you, a quick move that made you gasp and blush a deeper shade. His pupils were dilated, stare as stoney as ever while he admired you. There wasn’t a hint of disappointment in his expression, but the attention made you more nervous than anything. Your only refuge was to hide your face in the pillows cushioning the back of the couch.

But, of course, he didn’t allow that. After a sound of disapproval, you were pulled into another deep kiss. One that left you dizzy after he pulled away.

“Stop hiding from me, okay?” He spoke softly in your ear, careful to not sound too demanding or harsh. “It’s just you and me right now. You’re okay.”

You sighed as he pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, the hand not serving as your restraint moving back down your body to hitch one of your legs onto his hip. “Friends don’t do this, Sammy. I don’t want to lose you.”

You felt silly to be worried about such a thing when it all seemed to be one-sided, but the thought of losing him after a spur-of-the-moment decision made your stomach twist. It wouldn’t be worth it to you.

Without hesitation, he pulled away both of his hands from their previous jobs, letting them rest on your face to caress your cheeks.

“You’d have to be more than stupid to think you’re gonna lose me after this,” he assured, letting his eyes rake across your features with sincerity. His thumb swiped across your bottom lip just as he added, “And to think that we’re just friends.”

With his confession from earlier still hanging in the air, you shouldn’t have been as stunned by his words as you were. You wanted to believe him, but there was still uncertainty behind the thin line you so desperately wanted to cross. You could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into the worries that clouded your mind-

Hey-” he interrupted your mental anguish, waiting until he had your full attention and eyes on him. “Do you want me?”

You sighed, hoping to let go of the nerves that plagued you. “You know I do.”

Sammy smiled at the admission, seemingly more pleased now that you had said the words out loud. “Then you have me. In every way, baby. I’m yours.”

Yours. There was something so intimate about the statement, him placing himself in your possession. The knowledge that you would exist in his world, even when you were apart. It was more than you could ask for, yet everything you wanted.

The desire bloomed within you, and soon, you were no longer anxious to be displayed in front of him. Your fingers desperately clawed into the front of his shirt, pulling him back down to meet your lips again. It only took one tug at its hem to encourage its removal.

You sucked in a gasp at the feeling of his bare chest pressed against yours, a noise quickly swallowed down by the man hovering above you.

He seemed to be making up for lost time, each kiss telling a tale of its own and bringing you closer to him. Eventually, his lips traveled to graze the shell of your ear.

“What do you want?”

You sighed, the warm air against you sending shivers down your spine as you answered. “Your mouth.”

Without hesitation, he shifted and repositioned himself between your legs. His fingers looped under the band of your sleep shorts and panties, and after receiving a silent nod from you, he worked them both down your legs. His nose crinkled with a snicker, amused by your wiggling attempts to help him remove the garments. He tossed them to the floor and placed a gentle kiss to your navel as he moved to lay on his stomach.

The first flick of his tongue was languid, slow as if he were savoring the taste of you on his tongue. But soon enough, he found his footing and increased his intensity rather than speed.

You must’ve cried out at the feeling. Sam’s eyes had flickered up to you, peering through his lashes while he worked between your thighs. You were already lost in the haze of pleasure he was sharing with you. His wide, lust-filled eyes looking at you in awe, his hands splayed around your thighs and holding you steady, his perfectly sculpted nose dipping in and out of sight as the tip grazed against your clit. It was something you’d always imagined, but never believed would be right before you.

Your hand had traveled to his hair at some point, unbeknownst to you. Every tug causing a low hum to rumble from his stomach and against your skin, drawing you closer and closer each time.

You could feel it. The crest of the horizon in sight and in reach. But just as you were about to chase it, your fingers tightening in his hair, he pulled away with a lewd pop. The sound was soft, but audible enough to make your cheeks warm. Your frustration quickly surpassed any feelings of embarrassment.

Your head had been tipped back, and in the process of snapping your gaze back to him - ready to whine about his teasing - his lips crashed into yours again.

You couldn’t help but moan at the taste on his lips, a concoction that had only become more sinful as he savored you.

He was distracted, his mind drifting somewhere else while he kissed you. You could feel movement, as if he were rummaging through a crowded drawer for a specific item. The nerves that you had successfully shoved away stormed back to you, filling you with worry all over again. You gently broke away from the kiss, desperate to see what had occupied him so suddenly.

His hand was out of sight, in the pocket of his denim jacket that had been tossed haphazardly across the back of the couch. You heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper, and soon enough, he removed a small square package from the jacket.

The sight of the condom made your cheeks flush and your throat tighten, but you weren’t exactly sure why. It only took a few weeks of living with Sam to know all you needed to about his sexual habits. It made sense for him to bring a condom to a college party. But that didn’t stop the pang of jealousy in the pit of your stomach from the thought of his hands on someone else. He had never expected that you’d be the one under him tonight.

“You okay?”

His voice brought you out of the envy-induced haze you were in. You met his eyes, carefully studying you to make sure he hadn’t already messed up what had barely even started. You looked past your doubts and nodded in response, reaching for him to give you the condom.

He trusted you to tell him if something was wrong, but he gave a look of warning before handing the condom over to you. You knew he was not going to let this go, but you were thankful that he pushed it under the rug for now. You were much too embarrassed to discuss it now.

Sam was already working on unbuttoning his pants by the time you looked at the foil package in your hands.

“Didn't think you’d be a Magnum kinda guy,” you taunted under your breath, hoping to bring a sense of lightheartedness to the situation.

Instead, his hand was wrapped around your wrist in an instant, the sudden movement making you let out a noise of surprise. He pulled your hand away from its task and positioned it so the thin layer of his briefs was the only thing between him and your palm.

The thought made you shiver, but your cheeks burned from your previous taunt.

“Oh…”

He smirked at you, only a little proud of himself for making you discount your teasing. But through the smugness, you could sense a hint of bashfulness. And an attempt to remain humble through the ego boost you provided him.

You fiddled with the package as soon as you were released from his grasp, making quick work of tearing it open and retrieving its contents. By the time you finished, he had removed the remaining articles of his clothing.

You didn’t look up at him, and you tried to not hesitate to take him in your hand.

You relished in the way his silken skin felt against yours as you slowly began to roll the condom down his length. A soft moan escaped him, a sound of sheer disbelief and utter pleasure. His stare was unwavering, watching your every move. But once you tilted your head to look at him, he was already in the motion of leaning to kiss you again.

He used it as a chance to lay you back down and get you comfortable, using one of his arms to hold himself up and hover over you.

“Please let me know if something needs to change or if you want to stop, okay?” He panted, resting his forehead against yours. “I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

A loving smile crept on your lips as you nodded to him, giving a quick kiss to his cheek as affirmation.

He didn’t pull away to align himself with you. Instead, his cheek was pressed against yours as he slipped inside you, a low groan rumbling right at the shell of your ear.

At some point, your hands had wrapped around his forearms as a way to ground yourself. Your loosening grip was the only signal he needed before he began a slow, steady pace.

You tried to focus on the feeling of it all – the way his hips rolled against yours, the delicious tension that each thrust added, the grunts that would slip from his parted lips. But you couldn’t get past the simple fact that this was really happening. After all this time of imagining yourself with him, it was real. And it was so much better than you could’ve fantasized.

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him as close as possible and praying that he wouldn’t disappear. As if he were promising that he wouldn’t, he nuzzled further into your neck. The intoxicating drag of his lips against your skin made you whine, digging your nails into his back as if it were a reflex.

Sam sucked in a breath at the feeling, but before you could worry that you had hurt him, you heard a chuckle.

“Easy, baby,” he warned with a smile, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes. His had already flickered down to your lips before he continued. “Don’t wanna mess up your nails.”

It amazed you how easily he was able to bring you back down. Even in this situation, he grounded you and reminded you that he was your best friend. And all it took was a wink and a bit of banter.

He grasped the back of your knee, hitching it to his side and pushing even deeper into you. The new angle successfully drawing a mewl from you and pulling you out of your romanticized thoughts.

A hum of satisfaction shook from him, almost sounding like a hungry growl as his smirk widened. “Right there? Is that where my pretty girl likes it?”

Everything about the question flustered you, the phrasing, the pet name, the tone. You were nodding your head before you even realized you were responding.

“Just like that, yeah?” He continued. “Fuck…you feel so good.”

If it wasn’t for his pace faltering and his stumbling over his words, he might’ve been able to hide the fact that he was already close. Not that you wanted him to hide it, of course. Seeing him like this was everything you had wanted and more.

Sammy released the grip he had on your leg, his hand soon disappearing between you two. His thumb circled your clit with fervent hunger, as if he were desperate to see you writhe under him. The action made you cry out, his name slipping from your parted lips as a soft whimper.

“Shhh…I know, baby,” he reassured. He smoothed a hand across your cheekbone to wipe a stray tear before it could fall. “God, you look- so fucking gorgeous.”

He was speaking out loud now, voicing each of his thoughts as a way to bring himself closer. He wasn’t looking for a response, but the sentence rang through your ears the entire time he was above you.

The sound of each quickening thrust, the way his forearm tensed while he touched you, his hair shifting with every movement and deep breath. It all fueled the fire in your abdomen, and soon enough, you felt your muscles tighten.

He talked you through your orgasm with filthy words and sultry praise, coaxing you to give in to the pleasure and enjoy it for what it’s worth. His own climax cut off his encouragement, though, and with a huff, his head dropped as the pleasure overtook him. His body trembled with each remaining thrust, and as much as you wished you could watch him at his peak, your eyes were squeezed shut.

It took a while for you to come down from your highs, but eventually, his hips had stilled, and you had no choice but to be reined back in. You could hear that his breathing matched yours - deep, quivering breaths that shook throughout your bodies.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him smirking down at you, a cocky smile that was still kind and gentle in its own way. His free hand had settled on your thigh, his thumb sweeping across the skin to bring you back to him.

His chest was still heaving, and you could see stray marks up and down his torso and arms from you unknowingly clawing at him. Past the hints of your embarrassment, you sensed a feeling of pride. Seeing him above you, with marks that you made. It was as if you staked a claim on him, a mark of unspoken territory.

He was yours. No one else’s.

The thought made your smile widen.

Sammy chuckled at you, bending down to place a kiss on your jaw. “What’s all that for?”

With a laugh, you shook your head, not wanting to give him the benefit of knowing what was going on in your mind.

His teeth grazed against your neck before he began to leave sloppy kisses on your jugular. He only paused briefly to pull out from you, muttering a quick curse under his breath and returning his lips to your skin.

Your fingers had found their way back to his hair, playing with the locks of brunette while his kisses covered every inch of your neck.

As he reached the shell of your ear, he rasped a whisper. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

The question made your heart skip, but instead of letting it show, you grinned at him. “You already live here, Sammy.”

He pulled away from you, lightly slapping your thigh. “Don’t give me that, you know what I mean.”

“Ohhh, you mean in my room,” you said sarcastically, giggling as he rolled his eyes. You waited until his eyebrows raised expectantly before you stopped playing coy. “After you shower. You stink.”

He faked a frown at you before his smile broke through, laughing at your teasing. “If I’m taking a shower, you’re coming with me.”

He had already begun shuffling off the couch so he could stand. You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, partially to cover yourself, but also to keep up the act that you had going.

“Why do I have to come shower with you?”

For a moment, he looked puzzled, almost as if he believed that you didn’t want to follow him. “Maybe 'cause I’ll miss you if you don’t.”

It was meant to be a joke, but you could see in his eyes that deep down, he really meant it. You were going to go with him anyways, but hearing his excuse made you blush.

“Sammy…” you paused, searching for the right response for something so silly. It was a small phrase, but you could sense the immense amount of truth behind it. “You’re so…soft.”

He smiled down at you, annoyed but enamored by your playfulness. “Anddd you’re done,” he warned, grabbing your wrist to pull you off the couch to your feet. “Come on, up you go.”

“Easy baby,” you mocked, repeating his words from earlier. You were in a fit of giggles as he tugged you to the bathroom. “Don’t wanna mess up your nails.”

Ahead of you, he huffed a sigh. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

You didn’t have to see him to know that he rolled his eyes at you again. He stopped in front of the bathroom door and opened it, placing a gentle hand on your back to usher you inside. “Yeah…I do.”

taglist: @gretavancreep @joshkiszkas @streamsofstardust @gretavanflipflop @stardustingold @tripthelight-fanfic @gmolszewski @poofyloofy @the-chaotic-cow @hippievanfleet @doodle417 @gretavanfleas @myownparadise96 @fireandsaltydogs @auroraseddie @meetingthestarcatcher @jakeyboiiiiiii @jakeydoesit @fan-girl-97 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @welightthefire @maedesculpaeusoubi @josiee-gvf @brokenbellz @sammysvanfeet @haleylovesgvf @streamingcolors-gvf @prophetofthedune @groggyvanfleet @aconfusedhippie @star-lightsundrop @sammyslappers @agirlwithmanytastes @teddiie @gretavansteph @sammiejane22 @safarithong @tearsofbri @ashabeannn @Gvfvanfleet @Kerryxoliver @daniellefersblog @gretavanbitches @jordierama @alexxavicry @spark-my-nature @gardensgatedaisy @Jmksbuttsupremacy @shesawomaninadream @milkgemini @andromeda-raine-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @gretasimp @wingedgardener2000 @m3t4ll10n @courtkiszka @mweasley19 @fretaganvleet

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solar-sunnyside-up · 11 months

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Community Fridges-

A community fridge is a fridge located in a public space (on private land). Sometimes called freedges, they are a type of mutual aid project that enables food to be shared within a community. They require a small group of volunteers to run and require a fair bit of organizing but otherwise run fairly passively as a mutual aid project!

History-

2015- Starting up as a response to food insecurity in Germany by a group called "Foodsharing" and quickly started popping up places like Spain, New Zealand, India, Israel, the Netherlands, and Canada particularly as Covid picked up.

2020- As Covid hit the world there was a sudden boom across countries, particularly the states, where they where very suddenly established.

In New York City, community fridges, nicknamed “Friendly Fridges,” were introduced. The first one placed by an activist group, In Our Hearts. In Our Hearts has now set up at least 14 of the 70 fridges around New York City.

In Cincinnati Travis Mcelroy working with the vollunteers to fill Community pantries and Fridges with Covid Tests and Hygiene supplies like menstruation products, toothpaste, shampoo, etc.. across the city. Highlighting their location and use ages when they where needed most.

In Thailand, entrepreneur Supakit Kulchartvijit's Pantry of Sharing pantry cabinets, a variation on the community fridges, was launched in Bangkok and Rayong

Now most cities have at least one established fridge somewhere hidden in an alley if nothing else. In addition to an uptick in Food Pantries.

What can I do?

You can either find an already established one through a bunch of sites such as freedge.org or changex.or or your can start a fridge, this will take research into your particular area but here are some guides based on country at least

If your in the states- How to Guide

If your in canada- how to guide

If your in UK- How to guide

(i know this is v commonwealth centric but its the places i have the best idea of the legal system and therefore can trust the resources im sorry yall!)

#reaping week #ref #sprout guide #food #community #projects #solarpunk #hopepunk #anticapitalism #mutual aid

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mypookiebeardavyjones · 1 year

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Davy Jones Headcanons 🐙

(A/N) mostly fluffy! little headcanons I was supposed to post a while ago, but never did. I also added onto them-!

Dating Davy Jones is interesting…

He’s not fond of PDA

Mostly because well, the Undead Octopus captain has a reputation to uphold here!

So dates will normally be inside his quarters (as if he could go out on land to do anything anyways)

At most beyond that is you two going out looking at the beautiful ocean, at night while the crew slumbers and talking about anything really.

If you’re far into a relationship, those moments will be the ones where he tries his best to add in some words of affirmation.

With a small smile to back them

He is an insecure in a relationship admittedly, his previous had scarred his heart to the point he had to remove it so- it’s understandable

Reassurance you’re not leaving him is greatly appreciated to him lord he needs it

Physical affection in private makes him feel humane, if you touch him like a human rather than a deadly beast he’ll soften.

But also appreciate the monster-like features, the claw, the tentacle beard- it’ll make him feel more assured you’re in love with him.

He’s not too keen on nicknames, but will allow you to in private.

He steals clothes, jewels, and whatever he can find from the newly sunken ships of the deceased and hands them to you as a gift.

You might have issues with him mourning his past love, but with time, they’ll pass by and his heart will truly belong to you and you alone

Also to mention, kisses are… odd firstly you have to get used to the slime

…And the pirate breath. He’s undead, don’t expect minty fresh toothpaste smell.

At best- probably a fresh cigar smell.

In the beginning, it’s probably you who will give kisses first.

Because around you, he’s cautious with touch, very cautious. He doesn’t want to hurt you or ruin anything.

But if he’s upset, as in aggressively playing the organ. Just stand by and watch him till he’s done, then you can comfort him.

Whisper to him things like ‘I’m here for you Davy’ it’s something that he probably never received.

listen ily tia dalma but girl was NOT THERE FOR HIM 😭

#davy jones #fanfiction #potc davy jones #potc fanfiction #davy jones x reader #davy jones x y/n #potc x reader #x reader #potc #davy jones reader #davy jones/reader

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karniss-bg3 · 9 months

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I would like to hear your thoughts about Larian giving Kar’niss female pedipalps?

Personally I feel like it was just another f you from Lolth

Alright so, this is a complicated and detail-heavy topic. For that reason I’ll be splitting this theory into two sections: Technical Aspects & Lore. There will be a TL;DR at the bottom.

Technical Aspects

Kar’niss is a complex model and I imagine the rigging on him was wild. To my understanding his walking animation was done by hand which makes sense. His torso could be motion captured but the arachnid portions needed to be moved in engine. The best time to witness the separation is if you play music for him as a bard. His torso will bob and sway the same as the rest of the NPCs but his legs stay perfectly stationary. I do get a kick out of the idea of the Larian devs trying to put a tiny motion capture suit on a spider but alas.

I bring this up because the pedipalps add an extra layer of complication that the devs didn’t really need. In fact the concept art for driders doesn’t include them at all which suggests they weren’t part of the original design. A lot changed from concept art to the final version it seems. He used to have extra arms, his legs were longer, and his facial features were more twisted. His skin was also darker but it was either changed because he is a Szarkai or because his skin tone blended too heavily with the color of the chitin.

This would align with a lot of the concept art from D&D. There are many examples of driders without pedipalps, both male and female.

All that said, when it comes to the technical aspects, I have a theory as to why the original and final designs were so vastly different: Time. Kar’niss is one of the more detailed models in the game and even the final version didn’t turn out perfect. If you look closely at where his torso attaches to the spider body you can see some model tearing when he turns at certain angels, as well as what I refer to as “tubing”. I’ve seen this in a few games and it’s where limbs or portions of a body thin out to an impossible degree and they look like a squeezed out tube of toothpaste. This could be due to improper skeleton models, broken seams or rigging but as I don’t work in the industry those are my best guesses.

When you have a strict budget and time limit sometimes a development team has to cut some fat. They didn’t have the time to add in the extra arms, super long limbs or highly detailed face model. Perhaps they looked at the final design and weren’t satisfied with the lack of monster features. Thus, the pedipalps were introduced. But since drider are canonically sexless they designed the palps in such a way that they were made for battle; hence the sharp barb present at the tip of each. They are located face level for most races which make them perfect eye gougers or maybe they use them to subdue prey. Palps are also used to “taste” in most spider species and he could likely use them to discern if prey is edible or not.

“Pedipalps contain sensitive chemical detectors and function as taste and smell organs, supplementing those on the legs”

As for why they are female in design the simplest answer I have is that it was an oversight. If they were already scrambling to finish the model then they were likely going for the path of least resistance. Male pedipalps would’ve required a bit more work and either they didn’t think that much about it or chose the easiest design to model. I know about the Kar’niss is trans theory and I’ll be touching on that in the next section.

Lore

Anyone who has followed me for a while knows I’ve discussed drider lore a lot here so I’ll try to be a bit more brief in this section. Drider are meant to be sexless as Lolth didn’t wish for them to reproduce and rise up against Her. If Larian’s design of the palps were with intent then I believe we’re looking at Jurassic Park situation here. Maybe Lolth’s manner of birth control was to make all spider bodies female regardless of the gender of the drow who is changed. It would also align with the Matriarchal society drow come from as well as Lolth choosing to make driders in “Her image”. So yes, a “fuck you” from Lolth would be accurate in this case. The issue I run into is that Kar’niss is the only drider model in-game and so I have nothing to compare him to. I don’t know if all driders in this universe look the same or if there would’ve been a difference between females and males. It leaves it all up to pure speculation, sad to say.

There is a theory that’s been around for a while now that Kar’niss is transgender. While I think it’s a perfectly fine theory I don’t necessarily agree with it. It’s not because I’d be against him being trans, it’s more that I can’t find enough evidence to support it. For starters if he is trans, is he a trans man or a trans woman? We’ve learned that Kar’niss is a female name according to drow naming conventions and of course his palps suggest a female body. The name can be explained as an act of defiance as it is stated that if a man takes on a womans name they are considered troublemakers. If he is a trans woman, why would he ever allow himself to be misgendered?

There are several NPCs that refer to him as “he” and Kar’niss never once barks at them. It’s not as if he’s shy and in fact he’s proven to have quite the temper. He no longer follows nor worships Lolth and he’s under the protection of the Absolute, a cult that allegedly loves and accepts him. Why hide himself as a trans woman under these conditions? Especially in a game that is very progressive in terms of character creation and pronoun usage.

If he is a trans man then the spider body becomes a moot point. Did he transition before the drider transformation or did Lolth change his sex but slap on the female spider body as a way to mock him? Is that why he was changed? I imagine in a drow society where being a woman is a big deal having one that wanted to become a male, a lesser, would be the talk of the Underdark. I’m sure it’s worse for men who want to be women as that could be seen as “rising above their station”. It’s hard to say as modern day gender identity isn’t really addressed in drow lore.

There is a trans woman in Baldur's Gate 3 that the player meets during Shadowheart’s storyline. It can be easy to miss as her past isn’t revealed unless Shadowheart consumes the noblestalk Tav picks up in the Underdark. This is an excerpt from Nocturne’s journal.

“I am Nocturne. I think as her. I see her when I look in the mirror. I can't remember the last time someone called me by the wrong name - Shadowheart has been swift to gently correct slips of the tongue, and even swifter in challenging those who'd use my forsworn name in malice. I'm lucky to have her as a friend. “

While it seems she had trouble in the beginning, those under Shar came to accept her in time as far as I can tell. With this we can at least say that Larian has no issues adding in trans characters but Kar’niss doesn’t receive this treatment. Another thing to note is that Nocturne is voiced by a trans woman, Abigail Thorn. Where as Kar’niss is voiced by, what I assume to be, a cisgender male. In my mind if Larian would take that much time and care for accuracy wouldn’t they do the same for Kar’niss?

With all of that said if people have the headcanon that Kar’niss is trans that is a-okay, I have no issues with that or any other character! It’s simply a theory I don’t personally subscribe to because the elements don’t line up well enough for me. But hey if they ever expand on his story and he is trans that’d be cool. I don’t know if there is a trans man elsewhere in-game so it’d be nice to see that representation there.

Phew, that was far longer than I anticipated but I hope I covered the topic well enough as it has been debated quite a bit in the fandom. Once again I want to express that I believe folks are allowed to write and draw these characters how they see fit. It’s fantasy fun folks, go wild and enjoy your faves as you desire.

TL;DR: I think the female pedipalps are a technical oversight and were only added in to give Kar’niss a more monstrous appearance or to round out his design. I don’t believe he is trans due to the lack of evidence to support the theory. If Lolth had any bearing on the spider body it was likely to prevent reproduction or in an effort to make driders in her image. Overall, the pedipalps are more up to interpretation than hard evidence.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #bg3 #drider #karniss #baldurs gate 3 #answered #drow #drow lore #theorycrafting #spider anatomy #pedipalps #long post

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just-jordie-things · 2 years

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something missing - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 2.4k warnings: swearing summary: just two lovers missing one another more info: aged up characters! established relationship!

Trips were fun, seeing new places, trying new foods, meeting new people, there was always fun to be had going somewhere new.

Yuuta learned quickly that field missions were nothing like a vacation. Besides the fact that there was barely any extra time to explore new cities, with any downtime he had, he spent resting.

New York City was no different. It had been a few weeks, almost a full month. The sights from his hotel window were all the more exploring he got to enjoy. Tonight was the same old thing.

His toothbrush hung lazily between Yuuta’s teeth as he stood before the window. The whole city was lit up, and it was a beautiful sight, but tonight it just wasn’t doing it for him.

His phone beeped in his pocket, and it was in his hand in a second.

[(y/n)]: goodnight love. i’m off to training w Toge.

Not a second later a photo came through, a selfie of his two favorite people in the world, his girlfriend and his best friend, both with their tongues out and wide smiles.

Despite the overload of cuteness, he found himself frowning, his stomach tied up in knots.

He’d been gone for too long. He missed everyone, he missed his routines. He missed being in the same time zone.

[yuuta]: have a great day :) can’t wait till i’m home with you

With that he tossed his phone onto the bed- which was still covered in the mess from his open suitcase- and sighed into the empty room.

Three weeks of being alone in these four walls and trying to track down a curse that he was convinced was just some crazed New Yorker was starting to drain him of all energy. He hadn’t even felt bothered to organize his clothes.

If (y/n) were here, she would have established a whole system for unpacking and organizing everything in the hotel dresser. She’d scold him had she known he was living out of his suitcase and couldn’t even kick it off the bed at night.

As he wandered back over to the bathroom sink, spitting out his toothpaste and turning on the faucet so it’d wash down the drain, his mind ran wild with thoughts of another life. A normal life. As important as his work was…

“You’re a hero Yuu,” (y/n’s) words rang in his ear as if she’d been standing right beside him. “And people need you”

More than I need you? He’d never told her, but that thought had been on his mind ever since.

All he wanted was her. She had his heart, body, mind, soul- he was completely hers and she knew it too. She wasn’t the only one who knew it, anyone with eyes could see the pair’s infatuation with one another. And if they had been born non-curse users, he thinks he would have put a ring on her finger by now.

A smile graces his lips at the thought, his first smile all day.

The idea of settling down, moving their things into an apartment together, doing chores together, laughing over a juice stain on his shirt and not his own blood. Images of spending every free moment together, whether it be eating meals, watching tv, reading together in silence… every sweet thought that passed his mind made him wonder if all of this trouble was worth it.

There wasn’t time tonight to measure the weight of his work, but he would make time to re-evaluate this mission in particular. ___

(y/n) tossed and turned in bed, and then tossed some more.

To say she wasn’t tired enough to go to sleep was an understatement. She’d been awake for hours now, waiting for her phone to ring, or beep with a new text, but it remained blank.

She checked once more just to be sure, but just like the minute before, her lockscreen was clear. Leaving only a photo of Yuuta with a wide grin on his face and a messy, small bun on the top of his head. Usually this photo brought a smile to (y/n’s) face, hence why she chose it for her lockscreen wallpaper, but tonight she frowned as she turned the screen off and threw her phone into her pillow.

It was half past three in the morning, which was usually the perfect time to call Yuuta, since it would be five in the evening New York time. He usually tried to call a little earlier, but it was never this late.

(y/n) understood he was busy, and with important work, but she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She had barely heard from him all day, and with him being gone weeks…

Was it so awful of her to miss her boyfriend?

She reached for her phone once more, seeing only a minute had passed, and she still hadn’t heard anything.

Reluctantly, she unlocked her screen and went into her chat with Yuta. She’d already sent him a few messages, but she figured one more couldn’t hurt.

[(y/n)]: hey, we still talking tonight? [(y/n)]: it’s ok if it’s a little later, i’ll wait up for you :) [(y/n)]: i can hear panda’s snoring from down the hall, should i see if toge is up? maybe he’ll put me to sleep. [(y/n)]: hey.. it’s late but i’m wide awake if you still have time for a call. can’t sleep :/ i miss you.

She left her phone on her chest as she stared up at the blank ceiling. Panda’s snores from a few rooms down still faintly made it’s way to her ears, but as she zoned out it sounded more and more distant.

Sometimes, she curses Gojo for seeing the potential in Yuuta. Sometimes, she wishes he were normal, they were both normal, and could do normal people things.

Sometimes she wonders if being a non-curse user is a better life, to be blinded by the evils in the world, to live freely day-to-day. Sometimes she wonders if she had a chance at that life now, would she choose it?

She doesn’t necessarily like these thoughts, but every once in a while she’ll indulge in a little daydreaming. Images of her and Yuuta spending each day without training or being scared for their lives flashing behind her eyes. She has to admit, it would be nice if he didn’t have to go away for such long missions.

But as sweet as the idea, she knows their way of life is the right path for them. She knows neither one of them would sleep at night knowing they could do something to help squash those evils. Besides, most of the time, she enjoyed herself when she exorcized curses.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight to rid her gaze of the white ceiling for just a moment, she tried to manifest a message from Yuuta for the umpteenth time tonight. But hell, at this point she’d try anything to hear from him.

Ding.

Holy shit, did that work?

With lightning speed she had her phone unlocked to read the text message she’d just received.

[yuuta] i’m sorry i haven’t been able to text you my love, been real busy. Maybe a midnight snack would help you rest?

As happy as she was to hear from him, her heart sunk as he hadn’t mentioned anything about calling her tonight.

[(y/n)]: think you’ll have any time for a phone call tonight ?

Every second that passes with the three dots of his anticipated response made her heart pound a little harder. Even if he could only talk for a minute, she’d be happy just to hear his voice, she’d take anything she could get, really.

Finally, his text was sent.

[yuuta]: i don’t think it’s going to happen tonight, my love, i’m so sorry. but it’s late, you should really get some sleep. perhaps tea?

(y/n) bites her lip, before sighing and admitting defeat.

[(y/n)] it’s okay, i know you’re overworked. i’ll make some tea and try to sleep, but if you find any spare time, call me, ok? i don’t mind how late it is. i miss you

When she turns her phone off and sits up in bed, she tries to ignore the familiar burn in her throat that means she’s going to cry soon. They say distance means the heart grows fonder, but she never realized just how much heartache came along with it.

She rubs her eyes almost violently to make sure they don’t stay watery, and slides her feet into the slippers next to her bed. Tea was probably the best idea at this point. Hopefully it would help her sleep and bring some comfort to her lonely heart.

She dragged her feet every step to her door, wiping her eyes once more for good measure before swinging it open.

To her surprise, she wasn’t met with the dark empty hallway she was used to seeing at this time of night.

Instead, one Okkotsu Yuuta stood there, at her door, with his suitcase at his side and his katana slung over his back.

Her eyes blew wide and for a second no words even came out to voice her surprise, but he could see in her dropped jaw and frozen stature that he had shocked her to her core.

“Surprise,” He says softly, before grinning ear to ear. “My trick to get you to the door worked, I see”

“You’re- you’re home?” She barely gets the words out before reality catches up with her and she’s throwing herself against him.

In one swift motion her arms around his neck and her lips are planted roughly against his, barely taking in a gasp of air before kissing him again. For such a sudden kiss, Yuuta’s quick to embrace her and keep her body held against his as he returns her kiss with even more fervor.

When they finally break the kiss, he doesn’t let her take a single step away as he speaks, keeping her in place right against him, right where he liked her to be.

“I told Gojo that I was getting nowhere, and I’m pretty sure the killings weren’t curse related. There weren’t any supernatural leads,”

His words were rushed, like he was dying to get through them so he could move on and spend every second focused on her and only her. She let out a small, breathless laugh, before shaking her head.

“He said I could come back and the elders would send some more people out to recon just to be sure, but I’m here, and I’m staying,” Yuuta brings a hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin as he gets lost in her (y/e/c) eyes for a moment too long. “And I’m staying for a while. No overseas missions for a long time for me”

“Really?” She whispers, her heart filling with hope and joy and all things good at the idea of having him to herself for a while.

“Really,” He confirms, and seals it with a quick kiss. “I just want to be here with you. I missed you so much, my love”

“I missed you too,” (y/n) sighs, resting her forehead against his and letting her eyes fall shut as a comforting feeling washes over her. The relief of having him home was just what she needed to feel whole again. “I’m so happy you’re home, Yuuta”

He squeezes her shoulders playfully, and gives her a smile that she knows means he’s up to something mischievous.

And before she can question what he’s thinking, his arms are wound around her middle, and she’s being hoisted into the air.

“Yuu-!” She squeals before slapping her hand over her own mouth, forgetting the time of night.

He’s laughing as he folds her over his shoulder and lets himself and his luggage into her room. He kicks the door shut behind him without a care for how loud it might be and who might be disturbed from their sleep. He couldn’t possibly care about anything other than having (y/n) all to himself, even just for tonight.

(y/n’s) giggling too, despite her protests for him to put her down and what the hell are you thinking? She can’t keep herself from giggling uncontrollably at the whole thing. Maybe his laughter was contagious, but maybe she was just in love with him and everything he does to make her feel loved too.

He finally lifts her off of him, and she has to set her palms on his shoulders to keep her steady in the air. It feels silly, but still, Yuuta’s smiling and so is she.

The sweet moment is quickly followed by him throwing her down onto the bed, and she might have scolded him on another night, but not tonight. Not the night she finally gets him back.

Besides, he quickly falls on top of her, barely catching himself before completely crashing into her. Her stomach is starting to hurt from all the laughing.

“So beautiful,” Yuuta murmurs as he pushes her hair away from her face. “So, so beautiful,” He repeats, before leaning down and leaving feathery kisses all over her face. “My beautiful girl,” He murmurs as his kisses trail down the bridge of her nose. “I love you, so much” He says, as his lips hover over hers.

She takes him by surprise as she leans up, taking his jaw in both her hands and pulls his lips against hers. He smiles into her kiss.

“I love you too, Yuuta” She murmurs into his mouth, before stealing another kiss.

He could melt away and die right here, in her arms, knowing that she loves him. He thinks he just might if she keeps kissing him this way.

They settle in for bed after a few minutes. They don’t speak about the repercussions of Yuuta getting caught in her room after hours, and truth be told, the rules weren’t on either one of their minds. They’d take the consequences later.

(y/n) snuggles into Yuuta’s chest with a bright smile, which he mirrors as he tucked the blanket around the both of them comfortably. Even as sleep starts to invade her senses, (y/n’s) still smiling.

Finally, they’re able to get a good night’s rest, wrapped in each other’s arms. ___

xoxo - jordie

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen imagine #okkotsu yuta #okkotsu #yuta #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta reader insert #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu reader insert #okkotsu yuta imagine #yuta okkotsu imagine

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ladyiristheenchantress · 5 months

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Magic for the working witch

Hello friends! I recognize this is a break from my current content series, however I have been working like a dog recently balancing university, work, social life, and medical problems so I felt inspired to talk a bit about the magic I do while working!!

To preface: I work 3 jobs total! one of them requires me to travel, One is a remote desk job, and the final one is a waitress! While I don't recommend this lifestyle, it is the one that I and many others have fallen into as life has unfolded. First of all, to all my hard working witches, you freaking matter dude. Your boss may not see how hard you work, but trust me you guys are hustlers! Its hard to balance a spiritual life with everything else going on but today lets tackle that!

How can I cultivate magic, even with work/school/etc?

First, we have to find where the magic is within us and this is easier said than done. In previous post I talk about magical frameworks and theories and this would be a good time to put this to use! I believe that magic is all around and within us, we can harness it at any time, enjoy it! Even simply reflecting on the magic in your heart can be enough to feel spiritually fufilled. We as humans like acknowledgement, and when we just simply reflect on the magic around us then we tend to feel more fufilled but that gets lost on us sometimes.

Got it! What ideas do you have for me?

Lets think about jobs for a second! We have all sorts of jobs out there, desk jobs, standing jobs, hard labor, etc. I believe there is magic for every profession, type, etc, but that is a looot of jobs. so lets narrow it down to the three types I have experience with!

Travel + Speaking

these jobs include teaching, public speaking, management, and more. These jobs often are a form of public service but require an element of writing, desk work, etc. It also is somewhat a form of authority in the aspects of people looking up to you for information, conflict resolution, and more. Usually this job has a commute, a level of strong responsibility, and traits like leadership and confidence are seen heavily.

Witchy ideas:

As you wake up, get ready, and commute, give yourself a pep talk as a form of glamour magic. Bonus points if you make it a chant

Enchant your toothpaste to help your words carry

Keep crystals like angelite, Rose Quarts, and Pyrite close

Create a weekly spread to give you insight into the week so you can prepare as needed

Wear bright colors for confidence

Wash your hair with the intention of unblocking flow of words, and making things run smoother

Public Service

Public service are jobs like waiter, bank clerk, and floor salesman. These jobs require you to be informational, polite, and taking on a lot of side work in the process. Your job is to get someone to purchase something and help facilitate that, resolve minor conflicts, and honestly team work with both your coworkers and customers.

Witchy Ideas:

When you can: Don't wear socks with your shoes. A lot of dress shoes and work shoes can have hygienic insoles, and this can help facilitate grounding!

Create an oil out of a carrier oil, basil, thyme, and rosemary and you get a general 'workplace luck' oil!

If you work for commissions: Eat a mint, tic-tac, or sugar packet before work to sweeten your words to customers and get more sales

If you don't work for commissions: Place Vaseline or lotion on your elbows and knees to facilitate swift work and smooth customer interactions

Carry obsidian, super seven, bismuth, or chrysocolla with you

Keep a 'talisman card' in your pocket, pick a tarot card that resonates with your goal for work. My go-to's are the queen of swords, king of cups, the emperor, and the magician

Remote Work

Remote jobs are any jobs that can be done at home, and after the pandemic these jobs became a staple so many companies kept the position. These jobs could be done day or night, internationally or locally, and so much more. The best traits to have would be organization, punctuality, and perseverance.

Witchy Ideas:

Maintain a home altar where you do work to induce specific energies

Before a virtual meeting discussing important personal goals, set up an online vision board of what you want

Have a prayer or chant ready during a project to help it move along

Create digital sigils to deflect crappy co-workers

Use Tigers eye, ulexite, and yellow calcite to help the work day

Leave a tarot card on your desk as a talisman.

If you guys need any tips, tricks, or questions feel free to leave them in an AMA or in the comments below! Thank You! Tip Jar

#witchblr #pagan witch #witch #magical theory #grimoire #witchcraft #spells #culturalexploration #baby witch #magick #workplace magic #work #original work

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pvnkc0rpse · 6 months

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general 3d h4rm redvctiøn t!ps₊˚⊹☆ pls share <33

I AM PRO RECØVERY PLS DONT REPØRT, BLOCK INSTEAD! these might be triggering to some, although not intended!!! this is a post for people who already have 3ds. if you feel like you are developing a disørder please seek help asap. 3ds are not fun, cute, or cool; they are detrimental to our everyday lives and a battle we fight daily.

the following are things i learned throughout my years from general research, tumblr, moots, etc. ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

✩ everyone says this but drink lots of water & stay hydrated. have a water intake goal & try to meet it every day, adapt if needed depending on how active you will be throughout the day!

✩ take vitamins, and if possible go to the doctor to check your vitamin levels to see exactly what you need most

✩ always carry something with real sugar in it. not a zero sugar candy but something with real glucose! take it if you feel dizzy/ feel like you are about to pass out. take this as a warning & go get something with real nutritious value, even if it’s small

✩ know that you don’t need a løw r3strictiøn d!et to lose weight. you can achieve your goals with a high-res d!et as well, look into things like bmr and figure out what works best for you

✩ if you are feeling sick from a virus or something else, make sure you are taking care of yourself. i personally recommend eating three meals and drinking water & 0cal vitamin water. i know it's scary but you can make pretty good & nutritious løw cal meals if you feel uncomfortable e4ting three times a day

✩ eat if you want to drive and don't put yourself and others at risk. if you really don't want to break your fast: walk (if possible), take the bus, a cab, or ask someone else to take you. be a responsible person pls :)))

✩ be kind to yourself if you b!ng3. it's okay, you are okay, and you are not a failure. don't try to go all out for a "last time" or because you "already failed", it'll make you feel worse and potentially get you sick

✩ if you b!ng3, try your best to not count the c4løries. i know it's easier said than done but trust it's only gonna hurt your mental health :(( drink water, or tea, and try to relax. if you have a stomachache you can put a pillow under your legs to feel better

✩ try your best not to use l4x4tives. instead, try drinking plum juice, natural apple juice, or even milk. flaxseeds and water also do the job

✩ i sincerely recommend everyone to stay away from pvrging at all costs, it is incredibly harmful to your teeth and organs, and super dangerous; you could literally d!e on your first try. however, as someone with mi4 i recognize that i would not have survived if it hadn't been for h4rm redvctiøn tips. if you have already tried 4nti-pvrging tips and are still in that mindset: drink lots of water before and after, don't use any objects (like ur toothbrush), and do it right after eating to minimize the stomach ac!d in what's coming up

✩ i know a lot of people know this but still, you shouldn’t brush your teeth after pvrging. regardless of how gross you feel, it is super harmful and you could lose your teeth :// if you have mi4 i recommend getting a good natural toothpaste but even then, the brushing itself is bad for your teeth. drink water or milk and wait 30-60 minutes before you brush your teeth

✩ if you feel in distress, please seek support! there are lots of groups both in person and online that serve to support people in active 3ds. do some research, ask around, all that :)) this is a hell of a disørder and it is even harder to battle alone. if you ever feel like it's time for recøvery don't think twice and seek help right away

✩ don't interact with people/blogs that claim to be a coach :// other people with 3ds know how hard this is to live with, we would never actively promote others to purposely make themselves worse! these "coaches" have been around for 10+ years at this point, and a big majority of them are old men who get øff on bødy ch3cks

✩ if you are a minor, i give you a big hug because i have been there before (ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴘʟs ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴏ :))). from someone who grew up in 3dblr, don’t tell anyone your age. there are creepy people out here who are looking out for young people to corrupt. adults in 3dblr will know not to interact with ageless blogs

please be safe!!! and if you have any h4rm redvctiøn tips please share! okee ily bye <333

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ˖✶ ✦　　

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captainvastolation · 3 months

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Looked around AO3 and said “why the hell hasn’t anybody written Michael helping Gerry dye his hair??” and my first fic was born. 21k later, we finally got to the original inspiration.

“Fucking hell,” he sighed to himself and crouched to rummage around in the cabinets. He swatted at Michael’s legs to get it to lift them out of the way, and it obliged with a pointed look.

“What are you doing now?” It peered down at him from behind its knees. It had curled up into a tight fold on the counter much like it had on the couch the first time it had showed up at his flat. Gerry found the effect quite funny, actually. How it could go from something so large and imposing into such a relatively small ball was beyond him.

He rummaged around blindly, pushing past old, rough towels and half-used but long-forgotten tubes of toothpaste before his fingers brushed against what he was hoping for: the smooth edge of a little box he’d stolen from the chemist a few months ago, probably whenever he did his hair last.

In a few practiced motions, the various chemicals were in a small plastic bottle, and he shook it hard with his thumb over the top. His free hand riffled through the instructions and other nonsense in the box. What, no shit plastic gloves? It wasn’t that he cared if the dye stained his skin some, but he’d done his hair before without any precautions, and the deep bluish stains on his hands and nail beds took eons to fade. It almost made it look like his hands were unevenly rotting, and it was something he’d done his best to avoid since. He set the bottle back down to properly search through the few drawers under the sink. Hadn’t he had gloves at some point?

Ah, yes. The empty box laughed at him in his hand. Gerry of the past really enjoyed making things difficult for Gerry of the future. Presently, he was vexed with himself.

Michael’s question lingered unanswered as he chewed the piercing scar inside his lip. He glanced up at it, and its eyebrows still raised as if asking again what the hell he was up to. He sighed deeply and leaned back against the opposite wall.

“I need to do my damn hair, but I’m out of gloves, and since I get the cheap stuff it stains like hell. And I hate dealing with majorly stained hands for weeks.” He took another swig from the bottle of whiskey. It was nearly empty. “Guess I’ll just try to do it fast and scrub my hands while it’s processing.”

“I did not realize I was interrupting your regularly-scheduled grooming day,” it said with a giggle. It bounced in its bizarre echoes around the small space, but he found that he was pretty unphased by it at this point. Or maybe he was just still recovering from looking at it in the mirror and didn’t notice the additional headache.

“Oh, piss off. Guess I’m having uh, one of those…” he snapped his fingers a few times searching for the word. “Self care days! Yeah, that’s what rich white women call it. Why not.”

“Self care day?” It tittered back at him.

“Yeah, it’s when you do shit for yourself so you want to die a little less, or something like that.” He found a hair tie in the depths of another drawer and pulled the top part of his hair up into a tight bun. He grimaced slightly at the sight of it. Preppy did not suit him.

He focused on the task at hand, tracing the sectioned part with the nozzle, rubbing it into his scalp, moving to the next little section. He hadn’t realized until he put it up just how long his hair had gotten. Tilting his head to the side, a section spilled around to the front. It was damn near to his shoulder blades. Might not have enough dye. Shit. It was a problem for later. He’d already started; no stopping now.

As he continued working around the back of his head, he stopped to stretch his neck and shoulders. Twisting around to try to cover his scalp evenly was wearing on him, especially as the tipsiness settled into a comfortable drunk. Already paused, he tipped back the bottle and finished it off. Tasted like shit and burned going down. Between the burn in his throat and the sharp smell of hair dye, he reveled in the familiar discomforts.

He tried to turn his head in the mirror to see where he might have left off. He was trying to use his hands as little as possible at this point, since it would hardly be seen anyway. Michael’s soft laugh wrapped around him again, and he shot it a glance.

“Can I help you? You’re the one loitering in my flat watching me do this.”

“Oh, does someone not enjoy being observed? How curious,” it replied casually. “I find it funny that the Little Watcher has no eyes in the back of his head to see what he is doing.”

Gerry snorted and raised a middle finger to it, equally casual. He saw the first dark splotch sinking into the whorls of his fingerprint. Dammit.

It broke into a full laugh like he hadn’t heard before. It was a true belly laugh, with its head tipped back and its eyes closed. Its shoulders and chest shook with the force of it, and the sound deeper and fuller than its usual creeping giggles, washing over him in waves from every direction. Try as he might to keep a stern face, the unfettered joy was contagious. He had to set down the dye bottle and use both hands to hold onto the counter as he joined in. It was beyond ridiculous, every part of this. But dammit, for the first time in a long time, he was actually having fun.

“Christ, alright,” he finally said, carefully wiping the tears from his eyes with the knuckles that were least likely to have dye on them. “You have to let me actually do this in a timely manner, otherwise it’s gonna look even worse than usual.” He gingerly tapped a finger along the part to find where he had left off and was rewarded with glob of dye on his finger when he pulled it back. What a fucking pain. The acrid smell of the chemicals was getting to be overwhelming. He regretted finishing off the bottle already.

He stopped again to roll his shoulders and stretch his neck, sighing deeply through the familiar ritual. Push the parts that hurt, see how much more they could take, carry on.

“Gerard?” Michael asked into the quiet that had settled over them.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up, still stretching his neck.

“Do you need help?”

Gerry’s attention snapped up to it. “Nah, I’ve done this forever. Just getting too old for my bullshit, I suppose.” He studied its face. No shit eating grin, no mischievous quirk of an eyebrow. Its eyes flitted through a series of barely-there pastels in an almost opalescent glow. “Besides, I don’t need you going all Scissorhands on me,” he joked gesturing at its hands folded in its lap.

It chuckled and held them up for him to see. “Mr. Scissorhands, I am not.” Like in Bristol, the fingers had lost their sharp edges, and the proportions were shockingly normal. He chewed on the inside of his lip. “Friends,” its voice caught slightly on the word. “Friends help each other, yes?”

#the magnus archives #doorkeay #michael distortion #gerard keay #gerry keay #sometimes you just need help reaching the back of your head ya know #Michael is a critter of many talents #Micheal please stop changing the dimensions of my flat it’s making me nauseous

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rubydubydoo122 · 6 months

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Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Jason was surrounded by green. Green that felt thick like jello, yet lucid like air. Green that bit at his skin like frostbite, yet burned like explosions on his back.

Explosions. Bomb. Joker. Mom. Dad.

Jason bolted up, gasping for air. That was the Lazarus Pit, wasn’t it? But what about the explosions? Why the Joker?

As if thinking the name summoned the demon, Jason could hear the laughs echo around the room. He threw the blankets off and checked the time.

6:13 am.

Weird time for a house filled with vigilantes. Even if he went to the library to get a book, Bruce would probably be asleep. Or by the time he woke up, he would have to get ready for work.

“If you need me for anything, it doesn't matter if I’m busy, come get me. I want to help you. You don’t need to figure things out on your own anymore.”

But his Bruce said that. Not this raisined version of him. Not that he was thinking of asking this fake version of Bruce for help. He was a big boob.

Though, if he got ready on the slower side, he could probably find Alfred.

Jason soon realized that he probably hasn’t been in this room in a long time, because all of the clothes in his closet were the same.

Wait. Something was missing though.

His runaway bag was gone. Why did he run away? The journal said coming about going to Ethiopia to find Sheila Haywood, but Jason would’ve assumed he’d go with Bruce. Not on his own.

Jason will figure it out once he sees the case report. There’s no need to draw conclusions when the facts are within reach.

He decided against changing just yet, because his clothes were really dusty, and he’d rather not be sneezing all day.

So he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Jason and Dick shared a bathroom. It’s like, one of those bathrooms that connect to two different rooms. And if Jason remembers correctly, Damian probably shares the bathroom with them too. There were two toothbrushes in the cup in the center of the vanity, but considering that Jason probably hasn’t used his room in years, he took a new toothbrush from the cabinet under the sink.

Hey! Dick no longer uses bubblegum toothpaste. Is it possible to be proud of someone for that?

“I got eight hours of sleep, why am I hallucinating Jason?”

And Jason did what any reasonable human would do, and punched the person, because he did not sound like Dick, or Bruce, or Alfred, or any of the people he met last night.

“Ow! Ok! Fine! Not a hallucination.” the dude who looked to have permanent eyebags like a racoon rubbed his arm.

Jason suddenly realized he had a fifth sibling he hadn’t met yet, and punching them was probably the worst first impression “I’m sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t thinking-“

And Jason and him just stood in the bathroom staring at each other. This racoon dude also looked really familiar.

“Who revoked puberty from you?”

“A lady with a magic stick.”

The dude just nodded. And then a smirk formed on his face, “How spooked is everyone?”

“Bruce won’t even look at me.”

Maybe Jason should get the dude's name, but also, if this dude thinks that Jason already knows everything, then maybe he can get some information.

“You’re gonna use this to guilt trip him, aren’t you?”

Jason thought about it, he didn’t really want to guilt trip Bruce, but, information . “Obviously. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to go about it. Have any suggestions?”

The dude grabbed his toothbrush from the cup, “You could get your Robin suit out of the mem-“

The door opened behind Jason, “It is too early to be listening to your irritating voice. I thought you would be at your apartment.”

Nonono, Damian would maybe ruin Jason’s plan to gather information, “Hush, child, the adults are speaking.” Jason turned back to the mystery sibling, “you were saying.”

“Don’t tell him anything about the past five years. Todd does not remember. He Probably doesn’t even remember your name.”

“Damian’s lying. Of course I remember.”

Damian crossed his arms“Then what’s his name?”

Jason squinted at the man hoping the faint trickle of familiarity would turn into recognition. And then it hit him like a car iron. “Tim Drake. Camera kid.”

Tim stopped brushing his teeth for a moment and tilted his head to the side, “I never told you about that.” Tim spat into the sink, “if you had to go out on patrol with the rest of us, would you be Robin again?”

“Drake what—“

“The adults are speaking.”

Jason spit into the sink, “I wouldn’t wear the emo Robin getup Damian has going on right now, but if my old uniform is somewhere in storage, I’d put it back on.”

Tim seemed to smirk at the Emo Robin comment, though he flicked Jason’s forehead, “If you had your adult brain in there, that would not have been your answer.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to be Robin anymore? Robin is magic.”

A look of pity crossed Tim’s face, though it didn’t feel patronizing. It honestly felt like it was masking another emotion from showing on his face. “You just, kinda out grew Robin.” Then he winced, “Trust me, a ripped 6 foot tall Robin is not a pretty sight.”

Jason suddenly had a mental image of a man in a Walmart Robin suit that was ripping at the seams burned in his head, “Why would you give me that mental image? I need to bleach my brain. ”

Tim just shrugged, “payback.” He turned around to leave and visibly shuddered, “In a shake, garter snake.” he waved his fingers over his shoulder.

“See you soon, fat racoon.” Jason grinned, because he very much feels like as an older brother, he would teach his younger brothers corny goodbyes. Though maybe he didn’t. Who knows

Tim had been out of the bathroom, but peeked his head back in and grabbed a comb from the counter, “Gotta run, skeleton .”

“ Drake ! You can’t say that!”

Tim walked away again, “What I say is fine, spiky porcupine!”

There was definitely a growl that came from Damian, but Jason couldn’t say he wasn’t laughing.

Alfred was cutting up some fruit by the time he made his way down to the kitchen.

“Ah, young Master Jason. I didn’t expect you to be up this early, considering how much adventure you had last night.” Though Jason didn’t see the way Alfred’s knife faltered momentarily.

Jason shrugged, “And more adventure awaits. I gotta figure out what happened in the past five years. Need any help?”

A wave of nostalgia hit Alfred. Not many other people in the house could be trusted to cook without burning the house down, and even though maybe Cassandra or Damian could be, cooking with Jason felt special in a way that would hurt if he tried to teach another one of his grandchildren. “Would you mind preparing the pancake batter?”

And Jason gave Alfred that smile that was brighter than the sun, before they fell into their rhythm, working side by side.

As usual, Duke and Damian were the first downstairs in their Gotham Academy uniforms. Alfred placed a bowl of fruit in front of Duke and a cup of chai in front of Damian. “How come Todd is allowed in the kitchen?”

Jason frowned, “Wait, am I not usually allowed in the kitchen anymore? Or is it because I’m not in the manor often anymore?”

“What makes you think that, Master Jason?”

“My room looks pretty much the same. There’s nothing to show that I’ve grown up in it.” he stopped mixing the batter, “Did Sheila Haywood get custody of me? Is that why I stopped being Robin?” Why must Bruce raise all his children to be detectives?

There was a clatter that came from right outside the kitchen, followed by a, “I didn’t tell him anything, Bruce, I swear.”

And then there was a mischievous smile that formed on Jason’s face, “Yeah, he didn’t. He didn’t even tell me why I was dunked in the Lazarus Pit.”

Bruce came into the kitchen and leveled Jason with a look, “If Dick didn’t tell you either of those things, how do you know them? Did you remember something?”

Jason went back to mixing, “You’re forgetting you’re not the only detective in the house, old man.”

Dick snagged a chocolate chip from the container Jason had gotten out, “He found an old notebook and eavesdropped on me and Damian’s conversation.”

“Though Todd does remember some things. He remembered my mother and I. And I suppose Drake.”

Then Tim came in making a beeline for the coffee maker, “I don’t think I count, gremlin, I was the boy next door.”

“No, you were the camera kid. Bruce, I was right . How many times did I tell you there was a kid following us? How many times did you say, hrf.” Jason put down the bowl to emphasize his point.

Bruce sighed, but there was a slight smile on his face, “Fine, Jason, you were right—“

“Exactly. Now, since I proved to be more observant than you, you have to give me something?” Jason was obviously trying for the teasing tone that Dick usually uses, but it came out less certain. Like Jason didn’t know where he stood with Bruce. Which was fair considering last night.

Bruce picked up on it too, and reached a hand across the counter, “Jason, I’m sorry for acting really distant last night, I just– it’s a lot different seeing you like this again. Though, that doesn’t change the fact that I would give you the world if you asked for it. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” Bruce looked around the room, and then glanced at the floor, “That goes for all of you.”

And all the boys just stood there, gaping at Bruce.

Though Jason was frowning and looking down. He shook his head, “But not… older me, right?”

“Doesn’t matter if you’re old and wrinkly, or too little to walk, I would give any version of you the world.” he had a hand on his heart, “but I- I can’t kill for–”

“No!” Jason had taken a couple steps back and had his hands up like he’d been caught, “I would never want you to kill someone. I would never want anyone to kill someone. Not for me.”

Bruce stood there frozen for a second. Everyone was frozen. Because the youngest three were suddenly given the knowledge that their older brother, the one who always seemed to be out for blood, was a pacifist. And the three people in the room who knew Jason, were hit with the fact that death and all the hardships Jason had to go through had changed him so much.

Though Bruce nodded, “Ok. ok, Jason.” Bruce cleared his throat, “What did you need?”

“I’m just… really confused. And no one’s telling me anything, and I-I know something bad happened, I just don’t know what and I don’t want to draw any wrong conclusions, so can I ask? What happened?”

The grief looked like it was about to tear Bruce apart. How are you supposed to tell your son that he went through hell and back. That he’s lost almost everything he’d gained in the three short years he had lived with them. How are you supposed to tell your son that he died ?

“A lot. A lot happened in the past couple years, Jason. Zatanna is coming over tomorrow to hopefully get you back to your normal age and all your memories back. Going over what happened during that time would just be…”

“Like digging up old graves?” Jason supplied. He must have noticed everyone flinch, “Sorry, that was probably a bad choice of words. Can’t I be given one piece of knowledge? I’m just trying to figure out how everything fits together, and the one piece I can’t seem to let go of is…Sheila Haywood? Did I really get a mom back? Are we close? Can… Can I see her?”

And the hopeful look in Jason’s eyes was an exact mirror of the look he had in his eyes days before he disappeared. “No, Jason.”

The hope in his eyes flattered, because maybe just couldn’t see her. Right now. “To which one?”

Bruce didn’t say anything,

“Oh. I lost another mami .” And even though Jason was looking at the ground, it wasn’t hard to tell there were tears pooled up in his eyes, “How?”

Bruce clenched his jaw and looked to Alfred. He would not be able to make it through any more of this conversation.

Alfred wiped his hands on a towel and brought out a handkerchief to wipe away the tears that had fallen from Jason’s face, “Your mother, she was being held hostage. And you tried very hard, you tried so hard to save her, but in the end… there just wasn’t enough time.”

“But, I-I could’ve been faster– I could’ve–”

Bruce rounded the counter and kneeled so he was eye level with Jason, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jason bit his lip to keep it from wobbling, before burying his head into Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce immediately wrapped his arms around Jason.

“It was the Joker , wasn’t it?” Jason mumbled into Bruce’s shirt.

Bruce held onto Jason much tighter.

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #red hood #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #damian wayne #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #sheila haywood #dc #robin jason todd

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gayfanservice · 1 year

Note

How Ushijima, Bokuto and Kenma would help comfort a ftm reader on a bad dysphoria day? 🖤 (you can just pick one if you don't want to do all three! 😁)

This took so long im so sorry Pom-nom 😭

Chose Ushijima cuz why not (my iPads about to die and I really want to finish this lol)

TW; Dysphoria, reader over-binds, a little internalized transphobia, sad boy hours

*********

He had been in bed all day; his ribs hurt and there was a hard, uncomfortable felling in his torso, like his organs were being squeezed out of his mouth like toothpaste. It was uncomfortable to breath, but anything is better than getting up, than looking in the mirror, than looking down, if even for a second. (Y/N) couldn’t handle that. School had ended for the week only yesterday, and even than he couldn’t take it off. He knew the consequences would catch up at some point, but who cares? He needed to feel flat. He needed to make sure it was flat. No bumps, no worry. Was it stupid? Only a little. It’s just a body. Who cared about how it looked in the comforts of your own home? Or dorm, in this moment.

(Y/N) couldn’t help it.

——————

Wakatoshi hasn’t seen him all day, not in the cafeteria, not at practice, not even hearing anything from his phone. Satori caught his gaze, “Oh, loverboy! What’s wrong?” He teased, head propped onto his hand as he sat beside Wakatoshi, lips ducked up. Wakatoshi hummed, phone in his left and water bottle in his right.

“It’s nothing, (Y/N) just hasn’t been answering me.” Practice was almost over at this point. Satori took a sneak-peak at Wakatoshi’s phone, seeing a simple ‘Are you OK?’ In his text messages.

“I’m sure (L/N) is fine, but why don’t you check up on him after practice?” Wakatoshi hummed, already planning on it. At least Satori tried.

Practice went by; Wakatoshi was dressed in normal clothing and started to make his way to (Y/N)’s room. He knocked one, then twice, and on the third knock he sent a text. ‘Are you on your room?’ Wakatoshi saw his message was read, having a little debate whether he should just try the knob. He decided he would, knowing it was rude, but his boyfriend wasn’t answering and Wakatoshi was worried. The door was, surprisingly, unlocked.

Inside, Wakatoshi saw (Y/N) cuddled into a blanket cocoon, back towards him. “(Y/N)?” He saw (Y/N) jump.

“Hey, ‘Toshi,” He didn’t turn around; his voice was strained, as if crying for years, and he sniffled every once in awhile.

“You didn’t answer my text, are you okay?” Wakatoshi sat at the side of the bed, shoulders hunched as he laid his elbows on his knees.

(Y/N) felt horrible. He was such a shitty boyfriend. As if.

Shut up.

No, you.

Fuck you.

Never.

He didn’t even respond to his own fucking boyfriend. What a joke, (Y/N) thought. I bet he hates you.

I bet he isn’t even into you.

I bet he isn’t even gay.

“(Y/N)?” Wakatoshi was worried, (Y/N)’s lack of responses gave him creeping anxiety.

“… no.” (Y/N) started shaking, fresh tears coming out and falling down into the soft mattress below him. He couldn’t take it. The feeling of… everything was too much. It hurt. It all hurt. Why? Why did it have to happen to me? Why? “I hate,” (Y/N)’s voice cracked as he sobbed, “everything!” Wakatoshi rubbed (Y/N)’s back; he had no idea what to do, but he tried his best to comfort his boyfriend. He listened to (Y/N) cry, “I don’t like this body, I don’t like this face, I don’t like anything about this!” He sobbed. Anger, sadness, embarrassment, all clouding his mind.

Wakatoshi let him cry, a little awkward but trying his best. “I just… I just wished I was born like you! I wish I was born a real boy!” Wakatoshi never liked it when (Y/N) talked like that, letting the deep, internal thoughts of doubt into the light. It was never fair to him.

Wakatoshi laid beside him, wrapping his arms as best as he could around the sad cocoon, “(Y/N), you are a real boy. Why do you think I like you?”

“But-”

“No, (Y/N). Don’t listen to whatever it if your mind tells you,” Wakatoshi tightened his grip, holding (Y/N) closer, “I like you for who you are and you are a man, okay? You deserve to be happy and if being in a cocoon helps then so be it. I will be with you through it all. I know I’m not… good… at this, and that I don’t completely understand how you feel, but I swear I will always be with you, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) sniffled again, slowly worming his way around until he was facing Wakatoshi, “Thanks, ‘Toshi.” He smiled, cuddling up into him.

“Now, how long have you been wearing your binder?” He was still concerned, not letting his guard down to make sure (Y/N) was comfortable.

“… Awhile,” He answered, shamefully looking away, even though Wakatoshi couldn’t see his face.

“We’ll take it off, then I can go get some snacks, okay?” He smiled, although (Y/N) couldn’t see.

“Okay…” He still felt terrible, but knowing Wakatoshi was with him made everything better.

*********

Pulled all of this outta my ass lol

#haikyuu x male reader #ushijima wakatoshi x male reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x male reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #🖤

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steddiejudas · 11 months

Text

November 2nd, No Touch/Watching

Steve can do this. All he needs to do is focus on just how annoying Eddie can be, and he can totally do this! There are dirty dishes all over the living room, empty water cups on his bedside table that he never takes to the sink in the morning. The bathroom is a mess of shed hair even though it seems like Eddie never even brushes it, and the sink is full of globs of toothpaste. Steve cleans up after him like a maid, and it’s one of the most annoying things about their relationship. Yet still all he can think about is dressing up in a little french maid costume to tease Eddie into ripping it off of him.

It’s only been a day.

Steve must be an idiot for thinking he could do this. It’s not like they put any money on the bet, or if they had, like Eddie would hold him to it. Since being cut off, Steve has learned his expensive hair products and cologne and even fucking groceries are just that: expensive. Eddie is a saint, putting up with him learning to use coupons and compare the price of things to the ounce to get the best deal just so he can afford his little taste of luxury. Steve will be damned if his parents cause him to lose the one thing he’s ever been known for that he was slightly okay with after high school. He once was and will always be ‘the hair’. Plus, the first time Eddie called him sweetheart was the result of his Sauvage cologne, loudly proclaiming “you smell like a dream, sweetheart!” So, you know, that’s a must.

But maybe, just maybe, if Eddie cracked first, Steve could get out of this whole thing without punishment (because if he’s being honest, he just knows there will be one). Maybe there really is something to the whole french maid costume idea. So Steve does the unthinkable. He dips into his change bowl. He’s been saving up his tips at the little diner he and Robin are working at these days in a little pinch pot Eddie made in a high school pottery class. Eddie tried to throw it away when they were packing up to move into their little apartment, but Steve clutched it close to his chest and said it was too beautifully done, surely a good luck charm. And maybe it was a projection of his subconscious, or maybe customers tipped better when he was happy, but Steve always brought home the most at the end of the night when he gave the pot a little kiss before leaving for his shift.

He has just enough in there for gas and a discounted costume from the Halloween store that's closing down soon in the next town over. Eddie texted to say he’ll be late, so he has plenty of time to make the half hour drive and hope to god there’s some kind of maid outfit left in the women’s section. He knows he’ll go unrecognized, and the employees probably don’t care what he’s buying at all, but he still wears a hat and ducks his head when he’s perusing the aisles. His eye catches exactly what he’s looking for. A short black dress with puffy sleeves and frilly white lace, a white apron that ties around the hips, a little black choker necklace with a bell, and a little headband with a half circle of lacy white fabric.

The cashier gives him a slightly bemused chuckle when he sets the costume on the counter, but rather than let the heat of embarrassment he feels rushing through him surface, he cocks a hip and settles into the familiarity of bitchiness.

“What?” he snaps, when it takes the cashier a beat longer than it should to scan a single item and read out his total.

The guy smirks and shakes his head. “Classic. Do you not recognize me or something? I saw you like a week ago, dude.”

The truth is Steve was refusing to meet his eye since the moment he stepped up to the counter, but now that the guy has said something, Steve recognizes those curls, that slightly boyish face, and, oh fuck. He’s standing in front of Gareth.

“Not a word Emerson.” Steve bites out, but he feels the tinge of red finally hit his cheeks.

“You know this won’t work, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, I was the one who brought up no nut November in the first place. And your facial expressions are not as subtle as you think they are. I could practically hear your thoughts about it the whole time, and I’m assuming Eddie made a bet with you as soon as you left.”

“Oh. Right. Just don’t tell him?”

Gareth hums noncommittally and tells Steve his total. Steve hands him the cash and awkwardly thanks him before grabbing the costume and running back to his car, lest he miraculously be spotted by anyone else he knows.

The interaction all but dissipates from his mind on the drive home, replaced by scenarios of what Eddie might do to him when he comes home to Steve in this outfit. Bend him over the kitchen counter, rip the lacie panties he’s wearing right off of him and blow his back out to oblivion. Steve’s face heats up in the silence of the drive home. He didn’t bother turning music on, too consumed by his own thoughts. His mind drifts all the way home, without something tangible to lock onto. He’s home before he knows it, rushing up the stairs to the apartment and throwing on the costume without a second’s hesitation. In total, the trip took him a little over an hour, so Eddie should be home any minute.

Steve busies himself pretending to dust Eddie’s minis on the bookshelf in the living room. They’re kept on the top shelf, so even with Steve’s height, he has to stand on his tiptoes to reach. The skirt rides up just over the plush of his thighs and exposes the black lace of his panties just as the front door opens.

“Honeyyy I’m hooome!” Eddie’s voice comes out in a delightful singsong, which fills Steve’s chest with warmth. It’s the same way Eddie always greets him, which, however sweet it may be, he was expecting a little more of a reaction if he’s totally honest.

Steve turns his head, hoping to find at least a smirk on Eddie’s lips. Something that shows he’s acknowledged Steve’s gift, but he’s not standing by the door anymore. His jacket and boots have been kicked off and left haphazardly in the middle of the floor and Eddie is in the kitchen… making himself a snack? Steve grumbles and walks over to the entrance, picking up the mess Eddie’s made in less than a minute, and tucking them away on the shoe rack and coat hook less than a foot away. Walking hurricane, Steve thinks.

Eddie hums a light tune from the kitchen. He hasn’t looked at Steve ONCE and he knows because his own eyes have been boring holes into the side of Eddie’s head since he walked in. Steve follows to the kitchen and does his best to gain Eddie’s attention. Steve grabs an arm and lifts it until he can slide between the counter and Eddie’s chest, their noses touching. Eddie can’t help his smile as he nuzzles Steve’s cheek.

“Hi princess. How was your day?” Sweet. Casual. Not at all what Steve was going for.

“It was fine. I spent the whole day cleaning up after you.”

“Oh really? The whole day, huh?” Eddie kisses the tip of Steve’s nose and goes back to spreading peanut butter across a piece of bread.

“Well, most of the day.” Steve steps out of his orbit now, walking across the kitchen to watch Eddie eat his pb&j. He folds his arms and honest to god pouts.

“Aw, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” Eddie finally looks Steve up and down, only, rather than a reaction, all he gets is level headedness. Eddie knows what’s wrong. Steve knows he does, but he’s pretending nothing is out of the ordinary and for some reason, being ignored is not helping Steve’s desires for this stupid challenge to end.

Steve sighs, maybe a bit heavier than is necessary. “Nothing, Eddie. I’m fine.” His voice comes out shorter than he means it to, but, well, he had harnessed bitchiness just an hour or so earlier with the familiarity of swinging his nailbat, and it’s hard to just tuck that back away. He starts to walk away in a huff, but Eddie’s hand reaches out to stop him. There’s a flicker, just the slightest hint of desire when his eyes shoot up from the crease of Steve’s ass, but he schools his expression back to one of complete control before speaking again.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. Did you get all dressed up for me?”

“Duh.”

“Watch it,” Eddie’s hand snaps up to grip Steve by the chin, shaking him to meet Eddie’s gaze. “Did you really think this would work, Stevie?”

And now, this Steve can play along with. “Think what would work?”

“Honey, you have to know Gareth texted me as soon as you left, right?”

Steve sputters. “W– B– I asked him not to say anything,” he whines.

“And you know what he said to me? Bros before hoes, my sweet.” Eddie laughs at him, then. Really, truly laughs at the face Steve pulls because he really thought he’d gotten away with it.

“‘M not a hoe,” he grumbles, his gaze falling as his cheeks redden in Eddie’s grip.

“Are you sure about that? You drove out of town today just to get yourself a slutty little costume. And all because you thought I would rip it off as soon as I laid eyes on you. I have to admit, it probably would’ve worked had I not been tipped off.”

“I’m going to kill Gareth.”

“Oh, I think he did you a favor, honey. The payoff will be oh so sweet. Just, not right now.” Eddie lets Steve’s face go and pulls a chair away from the dining table. “Right now, I want you to take this chair into the bedroom, facing away from the bed, and sit politely. Don’t. Change.”

Steve’s confusion is evident, but he complies nonetheless, scraping the legs of the chair across the floor as he goes. His nerves alight as he takes his seat, the short skirt riding up so just the lace of his panties press against the cold lacquered wood of the chair. He can hear Eddie shuffling around the kitchen, the sound of his plate clinking down into the sink. Steve briefly thinks he’ll have to clean that up later too, but then he hears the water running. Eddie never does dishes. He’s making him wait. The thought sends a shiver up his spine in tandem to the heat pooling down low in his gut. It feels like there’s a rod in his spine, keeping him sitting up straight, palms down on his thighs. Steve hears footsteps close to the door, but still Eddie doesn’t enter. Instead he walks right past the bedroom to the bathroom. Closing the door and starting the shower.

No. No fucking way. Eddie is not leaving him here half hard in an itchy polyester dress while he takes one of his famous hour long showers. He can’t.

He does.

Or at least, Steve thinks he does. He doesn’t know how long he’s left sitting there, really, because his mind is swimming with the sound of Eddie. He’s humming Corroded Coffin’s originals, the ones Steve knows were written about him, and he can hear the water splashing off of him. Steve has never once been grateful for their thin walls until now. His soft singing is interrupted only occasionally by a little moan as Steve imagines he ghosts over his hard cock. His mouth waters at the thought of it laying hot and heavy on his tongue. His own dick is throbbing painfully at the thought, at the restraint he’s showing, at Eddie’s ruthless teasing.

Finally, finally the water turns off and Eddie comes to their room. The door creaks open slowly and Steve tries to turn his head to take a peek at the towel wrapped low on Eddie’s hips, but he only gets a short glimpse at the obvious bulge and swirling black ink creeping out of the white cloth before fingers snap at him and he’s looking back at the wall. Steve’s skin is crawling, his muscles aching to turn and look, to see the sight of his boyfriend wet and lean and hard. His hands grip into his thighs until he thinks he’ll leave bruises on himself, wants to put his hands on Eddie, bruise Eddie. But he’s a good boy, and there’s a part of him, no matter how bratty, who just wants to please Eddie.

And then he hears it. Those same low moans come more clearly now that there’s no wall separating them and Steve knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will not be getting what he wants. He knows Eddie will stay true to his word no matter how he tries to tempt him. In fact, Eddie is playing his own game right back at him, and he’s damn near winning. Because now Steve can hear the slick of his pre sliding up and down the shaft, and he can hear Eddie’s breathing get faster and all the sounds with no ability to touch Eddie, or even himself are making his cock weep against his stomach, sticking out of the lace waistband, red and angry.

“You can look now, sweetheart.” Eddie grunts out between broken moans.

Steve whips around at breakneck speed, tripping over himself to stare hungrily at Eddie laid out and wanting him. As much as Eddie can read Steve, Steve can read him right back, and he can see how badly Eddie wants his mouth on him. The chair tips over and clatters to the ground as Steve scrambles to be by Eddie’s side. A scolding voice stops him before he can get a hand on his boyfriend.

“I said look. Not touch. Behave yourself, princess.”

Steve whines. It comes from somewhere deep in his throat, fueled by desperation that he can’t find any other way to express. Eddie wants him to behave, and he knows he won’t get what he wants, but he still holds out hope that maybe, just maybe, if he does what Eddie says he’ll get what he needs. He lays his head down on the bed next to Eddie’s hip and stares, his eyes crossing with each stroke. Eddie’s hands are large with long fingers that could practically fit Steve’s whole length in his fist. It’s like Steve can feel the ghost of the sensation on his own neglected cock as his eyes track each movement.

Eddie’s fist glides down to the base, his fingertips grazing over his balls. His hands move deliberately slowly, running the tips of his fingers over the vein on the underside until he reaches the tip and squeezes. More pre leaks out and Steve has to physically restrain himself from leaning up to lick it off and swallow him whole.

“Good boy,” Eddie teases, and it’s then that he notices Eddie is watching him just as intently.

Good boy. Good. Steve is good. Eddie’s good boy. All for him.

The praise both helps him stay where he is and causes his dick to jump and strain against his panties. Eddie understands without needing to hear a word from Steve and his breathing picks up, a constant slew of praise falling from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. So perfect. I can’t believe you went out and bought this just for me. Did you dip into your tip jar for this?”

“Mmhm.” Steve nods, his face rolling in a wet spot on the bed. Oh. He’s drooling.

“Fuck, baby. You’re never going to make it are you?”

“No,” Steve whimpers. He wants to argue, but his filter is long gone now, and all he can do is agree with whatever Eddie says, be his perfect boy. Well, almost perfect. “Please Eddie. Please let me taste you. I need it.”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie groans deep and reaches his free hand out to pull Steve in by the nape of the neck. As soon as his lips attach to the head, his tongue darts out and licks over the head, swirling over the slit until hot cum is flooding his mouth and both of their moans are filling the room in a cacophony of noise. Eddie pants, his eyes burning as he tries to school his expression into something less hungry to swallow Steve whole.

“Come here baby, you did so good for me.”

Steve crawls up on the bed, immediately going to straddle Eddie’s hips, but he’s moved to lay down next to Eddie and he wraps his body around Steve from behind.

“Eddie, wh–”

“I said you did good. That doesn’t mean the bet is off, sweetheart.”

“But, I’m so… Eddie, please.”

Eddie sighs, genuine sympathy in his voice when he says: “Honey, look at me.”

Steve rolls over in Eddie’s arms, trying not to grind his aching dick against Eddie’s hips.

“Do you really want to do this, Stevie? And don’t say yes because you think it’s what I want because trust me, it’s taking everything in me not to fuck you within an inch of your life like this. I mean, fuck, we’re keeping this outfit because I can’t get enough of you.”

Steve considers it for a moment, and while the throbbing between his legs is telling him one thing, his mind is telling him entirely another. This may be torture, this month may just kill him, but that, whatever the fuck that scene was, it was one of the hottest things he’s ever experienced, and if this month promises more of that, it may just be worth it.

“I want to. I really do, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it, Eddie. Please don’t be upset if I can’t.”

“Upset? No, no of course not my love. I’m already so proud of you for keeping it together so far. Listen, why don’t we discuss a new safeword of sorts? Something that’s specific to the bet, so if you really can’t do it, you have a way to let me know, yeah?”

Steve’s heart swells. Eddie is proud of him, and more than anything he wants him to feel good. “Okay, thank you, Eddie. Do you have something in mind?”

Eddie giggles. “Well… I noticed you didn’t really want to use the word ‘nut’ when we talked the other day. What if, when you really want to, you ask me to let you nut, and that’s how I’ll know.”

“Ugh, Eddie, come on.” Steve playfully slaps Eddie’s chest, but the smile on his face is unmistakable.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“No, I don’t like it. So let’s hope I’ll never have to use it.” Steve giggles, shooting Eddie a wink. “Now can you please help me make this go away?”

“Oh. Right.” Eddie says dumbly, as if he could have forgotten Steve’s weeping cock when it’s all he can think about. Eddie helps him out of his dress, gently removing the panties so nothing brushes too overtly against him. He dresses him in boxers and comfortable sweats and lays him back down in the bed, cradling Steve to his chest as he pets his hair and whispers the most boring, mundane things he can think of.

“Eddie, even stories about cars you fixed today are hot in that tone of voice. Read me The Lord of the Dorks or whatever?”

“The Lord of the Rings?” Eddie snorts. “That is blasphemous Steve. The only thing on this planet hotter than Aragorn is you, and that’s marginal at best.”

Steve gasps. “Rude! Boner gone, you don’t even have to get the book now.”

“Too late, Steve. You gave me an inch, I’m taking a mile. We’re absolutely reading Lord of the Rings now.”

Steve exaggerates a pained groan, but he’s more than happy to let Eddie read to him. Even if he doesn’t always understand the complex words and run-on sentences, coming from Eddie’s voice, it may as well be poetry. Steve drifts to sleep in the warm embrace of Eddie and Tolkien, unfinished, yet somehow deeply satisfied.

@steddievember

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #18+ minors dni #steddievember #no nut november #no touch #smut

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butmakeitgayblog · 9 months

Note

ADHD here, please tell me, teach me, write instruction to how brush and floss your teeth three times a day.

Please.

Do you set alarm clocks? Do you have apps that reminds you? T_T

And no, wisdom teeth ARE NOT easy.

I gotchu

👇👇👇👇

Nope no apps or alarms. It's all less about a schedule, and more just working it into your eating routine. Making flossing and brushing part of your eating process is the easiest way rather than just relying on memory or "oop it's 1pm, gotta brush!" when you may not even eat lunch until 2, you get me?

Here's my process:

1. Brush before you eat breakfast. If you feel a bit nauseous in the mornings, try and sip some water to settle it down, but whatever you do, do not eat or drink anything other than water before your first brush. Why?

Eating softens the enamel! Acidic drinks (coffee, juice, etc) softens the enamel! If you eat/drink and then brush, you are quite literally brushing away your teefie's lil coat of armor!

2. Brush yo damn tongue. I know it sucks. I know you'll gag. It's hell. Do it anyway. I'm suffering with you ✊

3. Don't just go crazy everywhere in there. If you're zigzagging around your mouth like it's Mario kart, you're missing spots. I brush in sections to guarentee coverage. Top right molars - front, bottom, back, back edge. Bottom right molars - front, top, back, back edge. Etc. In total, six sections each brushed exactly the same.

I'm fully aware written down it sounds OCD levels of bullshit, but I promise, it's the same 2-3 minutes spent brushing as usual, just organized and effective rather than pure chaos and a prayer of plaque removal 🥴

Also, don't brush too hard. If your bristles are bent and smooshed, ease up my god you're brushing away the enamel by force 😳

4. After you brush and spit - Do. Not. Rinse.

Don't.

Put the water down.

If at most you have to refresh the tongue from feeling weirdly coated, take a tiny sip of water and gurgle only on the back of the tongue and spit.

I say this because the longer the toothpaste stays on your teeth, the better. You want that flouride and whatnot doing its thing on your enamel and gum line as long as possible, so give it as much time as you can and let your mouth naturally clean it out. It will.

5. Floss after every meal. Every one. It will become a habit and you'll start to hate the feeling of not flossing after. Floss after snacks!!! If it's solid food, floss. Period. Flossers can and will become your best friend because they are so convenient. I love them, I just keep a few in the zipper part of my wallet and whenever I'm out, I can (and do) floss on the go.

Side note, there is a right and wrong way to floss. So, be mindful of that.

6. Other than morning time, brush after meals when you can, HOWEVER!!!! WAIT AT LEAST 20 MINUTES (see part 1.) In those 20 minutes after you finish eating, drink water and thoroughly swish it around your mouth to help dilute the acid sitting on your teeth. Floss during this time as well to get the crud out from between your teeth so it's not just sitting there. If you're out in public or at a job where you can't brush after lunch, brush as soon as you get home. Literally take off your shoes, hang up your coat, kiss your pet (or spouse or... idk houseplant) hello, and then go brush.

8. After your final brushing of the day, eat or drink nothing else but water. Nothing.

Look at me

Nothing else ಠ_ಠ

If you do want to eat or drink again, gonna have to wait 20 min and brush again 🤷‍♀️

So you see, it's less about a schedule and more just working the act of brushing and flossing into your normal eating routine. Make the two synonymous. Make it part of your meal process. Eat. Floss. Rinse with water. Wait, then brush.

Important*****

For those who have days when they cannot mentally or physically make themselves brush, listen to me. I understand. It's ok. Believe me, I do know more than I ever say on here. But don't do nothing. If that is you, keep a small bottle of listerine next to your bed/chair so you can swish and spit. Buy a bag of flossers and keep those near you to at least floss. Buy those little one use brusher sticks/a clean rag and toothpaste and use those. If that's the best you can do, there's no shame in that. I promise your future self will be so, so grateful for these little things, because even a little is better than nothing. And in the end you deserve to have your mouth feel fresh, even when you yourself don't have the spoons to do much else.

#anon #i take teeth hygiene very seriously lol #my mom had so many teeth problems and my aunt spent THOUSANDS on her teeth #i just realized young that I did not want that to be me #and having lived the majority of my life without dental insurance it's always been a very do or die thing #cuz if something goes catastrophically wrong i can't afford to fix it #so maintenance has always been the name of the game for me

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msbigredmachine · 1 year

Text

TARGETS - 30 - Finishing Touches

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted. (AU Espionage Story)

TARGETS MASTERLIST

-------------------

Nine days had gone by since Jasmine and Roman left Rose’s house. Eleven days since Jasmine was tortured and Roman was shot in the shoulder by Baron Corbin. Somehow, they survived and Corbin did not. That had to mean something, that as long as they were alive and breathing, they still had a fighting chance. But though their wounds were healing, neither was sure they would ever be at a hundred percent again.

Jasmine's ordeal had taken a toll on her psyche. The first night, she'd woken up in a cold sweat, the feel of Baron's grimy hands on her still as suffocating now as it was then, the smell of her burning flesh entrapped in her nostrils. The second night, she had almost broken Roman's nose as he tried to shake her awake from her nightmare. Shaken and embarrassed, it took some convincing to the Samoan that she would be okay. As traumatic as it was for her and as harsh as it sounded, Jasmine knew she had to brush it off and concentrate on putting their plan to action. All of F.L.O.R.A. and the Authority were looking for them now, and they had missed the deadline for their Jamaica rendezvous with Rollins and Ambrose thanks to Corbin. The two men were now off the grid, most likely for their own safety. Roman did not blame them. The couple kept on the move, not staying at one particular place for too long, and they continued to strategize and stay in shape as best as they could, given the circumstances.

As the days got closer and closer to executing their final plan, Roman decided to treat his girlfriend to something nice. Since they couldn’t travel to any exotic destination at the moment, he brandished his considerable skills and was able to scam his way into obtaining a nice swanky suite for two days at the W Hotel, the very same hotel chain where they first spent an incredible night together all those months ago. It was a pleasant contrast to the dingy accommodation they had been inhabiting for the past week, and the huge smile on Jasmine’s face as she plopped down onto the soft, clean white sheets of the king bed like a little girl was the perfect reward for him.

Biting into a croissant from the vast breakfast tray from room service, Jasmine perused the contents of the carry-on Rose had given her. It contained two brand new passports; one for herself, named "Ameera Candice Johnson", and the other for her "husband" Roman, under the name "Afa Jonathan Johnson". She calculated a hundred thousand dollars in cash in four different currencies. Rose would have provided more, but F.L.O.R.A. had monitored each of their operatives' accounts ever since Jasmine turned rogue, to ensure that none of them were financing her. Jasmine's own accounts and credit cards had long since been frozen. The money was adequate for now, but she and Roman were going to need much more than this if they planned on disappearing forever.

And she knew just where they were going to get it.

She heard the bathroom door open, and then a whooshing sound from behind her. Instinctively, she twisted her upper body around, catching the incoming missile expertly with her right hand. She glanced down at the tube of toothpaste and rolled her eyes. "Really, Reigns?"

Her boyfriend stood by the bathroom door, a white towel hanging low on his hips. "Just testing your reflexes, my beautiful Nubian rose," he informed her.

"My reflexes are just fine, my handsome Samoan stallion."

Roman smirked. "Stallion, huh? Cuz you love ridin’ me?"

"Oh my god, don't start." She shook her head with a smile, getting up and approaching him. Giving his chest an affectionate pat, she took off her clothes, stepped into the walk-in shower and turned on the hot water.

The Plexiglas quickly grew foggy from the hot water, but Roman could still see the curvaceous outline of her silhouette. His breathing grew heavier as he watched her spread the lather over her naked body with her hands. He was aroused in seconds. He'd just showered but he didn't mind going back in for another. Quickly discarding his towel, he walked into the shower and shut the glass door behind him.

Standing behind her, his hands roamed her jagged skin, carefully tracing the scars Corbin had left all over her beautiful body. "Fuckin' piece of shit," he growled, "I should find him, wake his dead ass up and put another bullet in his head."

Jasmine found herself chuckling at that. "Down, boy. It's getting better, thanks to Rose’s lotion."

"You're still not sleeping well, though." Roman's tone was quiet but pointed, feeling her bristle at his words. "Baby girl, I know Corbin did a number on you..."

"Don't worry about me, my love. I'll be fine," Jasmine promised, turning her head to meet his eyes. "Let's just focus on tomorrow, and hope we live through it."

"We will. We have a good plan. A brilliant one, even."

"You're very confident," she smirked.

"I am. Because we're good. Very good. We make a great team, Jasmine."

Jasmine smiled. "We do. It’s like we’ve known each other forever."

“Like soulmates?” asked Roman.

There was something about that word, just the mere utterance of it, that seemed to unlock something, opening another chapter in their romance. Jasmine looked deep into Roman’s eyes and saw everything she needed to know.

“Just like soulmates,” she agreed with a soft smile. She felt his thumbs gently massage the base of her neck, and gradually relaxed as he methodically worked the tension out of her neck, shoulders and upper back. She closed her eyes, a soft contented sigh escaping her when Roman kissed the scar on her shoulder blade. He inched closer, his chest flush against her back, his hands slipping around to rest against the flat plane of her abdomen.

Jasmine trailed her hands along the contours of his muscular forearms, her fingers intertwining with his. With a soft moan, Roman dipped his head, his lips meeting the curve of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. His caresses soon found her breasts, and as he massaged them and rolled her nipples between his fingers, that familiar erotic feeling surged up inside them; the one that pushed out all other thoughts and focused on no one else but each other.

“I love you,” whispered Jasmine.

“I love you too, baby,” Roman replied, capturing her mouth with his when she lifted her head, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle with hers. She rotated her body around until she was facing him, her knees weakening as she took in his naked form and the hunger in his eyes. He gave her no breathing room as he backed her up against the shower wall with his mouth back over hers. She moaned in encouragement at his eagerness, feeling his desire, the tender urgency in every kiss and touch and caress – it had been a while since they last made love, and she would be lying if she said she didn't want him inside of her.

Their tongues clashed fervently, craving the taste of each other, the heat of their desire radiating through the small enclosure. Roman's long fingers threaded through Jasmine's wet hair and angled her head back to attack her neck with his lips, his hard body pressing against hers. She dragged her fingers down his muscled back, pulling him even closer, if that was possible. His low growl vibrated in his chest as he rolled his hips, making her moan as his erection rubbed against her lower belly. His hands gripped her ass cheeks, kneading and squeezing them between his rough palms as they grinded against each other.

“I love the way you feel beneath my hands, baby girl,” he whispered in that deep timbre of his that always made her melt inside. “I love the way your body reacts when I touch you and love on you. Like it knows it’s mine.”

“It’s yours. Baby I’m all yours,” she answered without hesitation.

Roman growled in appreciation and pressed open-mouthed kisses against her warm skin, his tongue rolling over as many goosebumps as possible. He licked his way down her body until he was on his knees. His hand then slipped down to palm her leg before hitching it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady as she found her balance.

“I got you. Relax for Daddy, baby,” he assured her, watching her stare down at him, licking her lips as she nodded. Nuzzling his face against her soft folds, he breathed her in, his brain filling up with the heady mix of shower gel and her natural scent that called out to him to be devoured. He was all too happy to oblige.

With the tip of his tongue, he flicked her clit, teasing the bundle of nerves, gripping her hips as she bucked against his face and tugged his hair hard. He hummed softly at the slight pain, swiping the flat of his tongue along her slit and groaning at the taste. So good, so rich. He licked her thoroughly, repeatedly, his thumb sliding in to play with her clit at the same time. Her voice went up several decibels in reaction, her fingers digging into his hair as he slurped her juices.

"Baby…shit," Jasmine groaned above him, "Fuck, Roman..."

Groaning back to her, he widened his mouth over her pussy for a slew of French kisses before letting his fingers take over, sliding his mouth back over her clit. Keeping her pinned against the wall, he proceeded to destroy her by suckling and tonguing the sensitive nub while pumping three fingers inside her. His already hard dick twitched at the sweet sounds of her pussy and her cries for him, echoing around the enclosure as he milked her nectar, drowning out the running water. Jasmine arched against the wall as she detonated, her inner muscles keeping his long, thick fingers in a death grip. That grip was broken as she broke, her body falling to pieces from the intense pleasure.

Roman gently set her leg back down and got to his feet. Jasmine collapsed in his huge arms, burying her face in his neck with a soft, satisfied moan as he pressed her back against the wall. “Jesus, Ro,” she gasped.

“I got you,” he whispered. He lifted her head up to kiss her, his tongue sliding indulgently against her own as soon as she opened her mouth for him.

"Mmmm, I taste good," she panted, licking her lips with a grin.

“You always do,” he responded, placing his mouth back over hers to taste her some more. Her wet body stuck to his, and his dick stirred again. Feeling him throb between them, she wasted no time reaching down and curling her fingers around the turgid length, rubbing and tugging it, biting her lip as she met his heated stare.

"I want it deep in me, Daddy, give it to me." She spoke in that pleading, breathy tone he could never resist. Throwing the shower door open, he pulled her behind him, both still dripping wet as they stumbled out of the bathroom. Upon reaching the bed, Jasmine sat Roman down and stood between his spread thighs. Her hungry stare locked with his as he wrapped his fingers around his cock and slowly massaged it.

“Be a good girl and come suck Daddy dick,” he drawled, his hand sliding up and down the thick, delectable length. Fuck, he looked so enticing laying down like that. Like the good girl that she was, she sank down to her knees, her hand closing around his dick, and she slashed her tongue over the swollen head. Roman watched her intently as she sucked him, feeling his knees weaken as she sank him further into the inviting warmth of her mouth. Her soft moans were everything, even as she took him all in, making gulping sounds around his cock that never failed to send shivers down his spine. His hand cupped the back of her head, letting out a moan of his own as she grabbed his balls, tugging them in tandem with her sucking.

His groans of pleasure and his dark intense eyes caused a flood in her loins. Completely turned on, she gobbled up his dick, making him moan louder as she swallowed him all up. He caressed her head, lifting his hips up, needing to be deeper somehow. She leaned forwards, her arms stretched over the length of his muscled thighs to keep him still. With her palms splayed over his crunching abs, she proceeded to deep-throat him, her mouth meeting his pelvis, holding it there to suckle the base of his dick before dragging the tightness of her lips back up to the tip. Rinse and repeat.

“Baby girl, you gon' make me come,” Roman soon grunted, his deep voice shaken as he gripped her hair. She hummed her permission, the vibrations around his dick rippling through his big frame and tightening his balls. His eyes rolled in the back of his head. “Shit, I’m ‘bout to come for you, baby. Open your mouth.”

Jasmine obeyed, wincing a little from his steely grip holding her in place. She didn’t mind too much; the best reward was watching him jerk himself frantically in her face, his own twisting with painful pleasure as he burst all over her tongue and partly on her chin. He groaned again when she wrapped her lips back around him and sucked hard, drinking down his cum like it was her favorite beverage. When she released him, he prayed he had some left in him as he was far from done with her. He used his thumb to clean his mess off her face and stuck the digit inside her mouth, gasping as she licked it clean, her eyes on him the entire time.

“God you’re so sexy, my little fuckin’ slut. C'mere,” he praised her, pulling her into the bed and on top of him for a deep kiss full of tongue. Jasmine rocked against him, her wetness brushing ominously against the tip of his dick. Thanks to Corbin's act of savagery, she was no longer protected and he himself didn’t have any condoms. But just as quickly as the reminder appeared, he shooed it away. They could most likely be dead before tomorrow ended. Protection was the least of their worries. He wanted to fill her up with everything he had. Tonight had to be memorable.

“Assume position, baby,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees and maneuvering behind her.

“Yes Daddy.” She wasted little time, turning around, spreading her legs apart, teasing him with a quick twerk of her ass cheeks and earning a smack on her butt. He wasted no time either, sliding right into her, both of them moaning as he met little resistance. His hands massaged her ass as he pulled out then pushed back in, working his way into her with slow, gentle thrusts all the way to her hilt. He was so conversant with her pussy; knowing exactly where to position that dick, how to stroke the most sensitive spot inside her that maximized her pleasure; her wetness was already seeping down her thighs and onto the bed.

“Mmm, look how wet you are. You drippin’ for me, babe,” Roman smirked, watching with fascination as his dick disappeared inside her warm wetness. “That’s how you take Daddy’s dick, lemme bust that phat pussy open, baby.”

“Oooh fuck, Roman, that feels…”

“Shit feel good, yeah babe?”

Temporarily robbed of all ability to speak, Jasmine could only moan out the rest of her thoughts, delirious from the feel of his heavy balls slapping her clit, his thighs bumping against hers from behind, and best of all, his big ass dick stretching her open. “Yes, Daddy, oh my god,” she whined, tears filling her eyes. He felt incredible, so sinfully good. How had she ever lived without him?

His fist was in her hair now, bringing her head up off the bed as he thrust harder. His other hand played with her breast from behind and tweaked the bud of her nipple, making him moan as her pussy contracted around him. He leaned down to nuzzle her throat, his lips ghosting over her jawline until she turned her face to him and let him claim her mouth with his.

After a few minutes of taking her in this position, he pulled out and flipped her onto her back. Climbing on top of her, he patted his girthy dick against her softened folds before pushing back inside. His long, damp locks cascaded down his strong shoulders, framing his gorgeous features. Her hands reached up to caress his face, then gripped the back of his neck to pull his mouth to hers. He hitched her left leg under the crook of his arm and then the right, opening her up for him to pound her out. Her back arched with a moan, her pussy tightening around his thick length as he plunged deep into her over and over. Moving her legs up onto his shoulders, he went to town, feeding her with long, lavish strokes that found every sweet spot she owned. He was on a mission, almost obsessed with his need to pleasure her, to make her feel things she’d never felt before, things he'd been feeling for her since the very beginning of their relationship.

“You feel fuckin’ amazing, Jasmine.” His voice was so deep and rough in her ear and dripped with pure lust. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and goosebumps sprout all over her heated skin. She didn’t know where to put her hands, switching from gripping the bed sheets to grabbing his shoulders before settling on his broad back. Her moans devolved into soft sobs as he kept up the dizzying onslaught. He brought his face closer to hers and kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” she said, her jaw dropping as her eyes flickered to the spot where their bodies connected, watching his dick drill and grind into her like he was searching for oil. “Oh my god, Daddy, you’re fuckin' the shit outta me…”

“I keep telling you this pussy good, babe,” Roman said, licking the seam of her lips. “Wet and tight as fuck…you make me wanna come all up in it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to respond, not with the way he was holding her down to the bed and winding his hips, making his dick massage her spot. Her pussy rippled around him yet again and she panted heavily, her toes curling behind his head as she whined his name. Hearing his name pour from her lips and the way she moaned and cried and begged snapped something deep within Roman. He pounded her pussy harder, gazing at her with bright, lust-filled eyes, “I can tell you’re close, baby. Let it go. Come again for me,” he cajoled her.

On command, her orgasm washed over her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she screamed, her body convulsing beneath him from the barrage of pleasure. Ecstatic. Overwhelming. All of that and more.

Roman pulled out of her and looked on, proud of his handiwork as he watched his lover squirm and gasp beneath him, squeezing her thighs together as pleasure ravaged her entire being. Opening her legs wide again, he loomed over her, guiding his dick back inside her and pushing home. He had all the pleasure she could ever want, and he was going to give it all to her. As her back arched off the bed, he seized the chance to wrap his arms around her and hoist her upright so she was on top of him.

“Come on, ride your Samoan stallion,” he instructed, smacking her backside in encouragement.

Recovering from her shudders, Jasmine steadied herself on top of him. With her knees up, she rested her hands on his abs and began to fuck him, dragging that pussy back and forth on his dick. She leaned down and brushed their mouths together, then sat back up to ride him a little harder. It was her turn to hold him down to the bed as her wet pussy slid up and down his cock, engulfing his length with the tightness of her walls. Looking up at her, eyes dilated, deep caramel skin glistening with sweat, full breasts bouncing and her lips parted in exertion, Roman nearly lost it right then. She had him growling and panting as she dropped down on his cock again and again and again, taking him deep. He ran his hand up her stomach and between her breasts until they closed around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her audibly bite back a moan. With his other hand, he held onto her waist, planted his feet on the bed, and raised his hips to push his dick up against her g-spot at the perfect angle to make her shiver against him.

"Unnnnhhhh..." she groaned, her thighs shaking and quaking at his sides.

"Mm-hmm, I know that's the spot right there, sweetheart. You gon' come for me. Nut on Daddy's cock, baby girl, give it to me," he whispered, grinding up into her, tightening his grasp around her throat. He was slipping inside her far too easily, yet she was still so tight. He moaned as on cue, she clenched around him, her strangled cry vibrating through them both as she gushed like a fountain all over his groin.

"Fuuuck..." Jasmine's head rocked backwards as her body shook, whimpering, her breathing raspy. The climax was so powerful that she couldn't think straight. Roman moaned and thrust upwards into her, faster, harder, drowning in the wet squelching of her tight pussy, increasing his pleasure and hers. His breaths came in ragged bursts and his muscles tensed, his toes curling as he tumbled into his own release. He emptied himself inside her, his own body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through every nerve ending of his.

He barely felt her soft kiss on his cheek afterwards, barely felt her hand steer his face to meet her mouth, their lips and tongues sweeping together in the tastiest, most sensual of kisses. As they moaned into each other’s mouths, his senses came alive again, luxuriating in their post-coital embrace. He was almost disappointed when she finally dismounted him, and he shuddered as her skin smoothed lazily over his, the memory of being inside her setting his skin afire. Her beautiful face was flushed with satisfaction as she stared down at her lover.

"Damn, baby, fuck,” she moaned, smoothing out her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Roman watched her with mischief in his eyes.

“You good, baby girl?" he teased. "Didn't wear you out, did I?"

"Pfft. You know I handled that good dick, Daddy," she replied, her brown eyes still cloudy in the afterglow. She snuggled closer to him, her arm slung over his waist. "This is the real reason I ain’t never letting you go. You put it down on me so good, babe. Imma glue my pussy to your cock at this point.”

They both burst out laughing at the weird imagery before falling into a comfortable silence. When Roman spoke again, his tone was more serious. "Honestly, I can’t wait for all this running and hiding to be over," he said.

"It will be. Soon,” Jasmine promised.

Roman reached up to caress her face, gazing intently at her. "You sound so sure."

The former F.L.O.R.A agent bit her lip and nodded slowly. "We will. We’ll make it out of this. I trust you and I trust our abilities together. But for now...we need to get some sleep.”

“Do we?”

Raising her eyebrows, she watched his hand close over her breast, kneading the round soft flesh. The lazy flicks of his fingers over her peaked, sensitive nipple made her gasp. “Ro…”

"Baby, we could be dead by tomorrow," he said, his voice deep and serious as he looked into her eyes. "Until then, I wanna spend every waking second in your arms, to be buried inside you for as long as I can until we get there. I hope you don't mind."

Jasmine felt an overwhelming surge of love and heartache at his words as she realized that indeed, this could be the last time they would be together like this. "I guess not," she finally succumbed, looking on as he rolled back on top of her, his mouth tugging her nipples in a string of wet, sloppy kisses that had her pussy aching again. At his hungry expression, she swallowed hard, growing weak for him as she felt his hardness rub against the mound of her pussy.

Pulling her thigh over his waist, he kissed her lips, slipping his tongue inside her mouth as he massaged his cock between their bodies. "I love you, Jasmine. I’ll still love you long after I’m gone," he declared, his voice heavy with emotion.

Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. "I love you, Roman. I love you until my last breath. I will love you even more after that," she whispered. She returned his tender kiss, feeling him grip the back of her thigh, lifting her body against him as he sank back into her warm, inviting depths…

-----------------

She sat up in bed as she watched him sleep. With tears in her eyes, she watched the way his chest rose and fell, his breathing deep and even. The sheets were draped over his hip, right below the V-shaped contour on his hip bone. His tousled hair swept over his face, and she gently raked it back, letting her fingers graze his chiseled cheek. Staring at him for one moment longer, she then shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and chased all her emotions back into the recesses of her mind, allowing the calm ruthlessness she used to be known for to take over her entire being once again. Her features were hardened, passive, as she got up from the bed, limped over to the ceiling to floor window and made the call she'd been waiting to make since leaving Rose behind.

A female voice answered the other end of the line. "Identify."

"Four, one, three, six, eight, five, six," Jasmine answered, walking over to stand next to the glass door leading to the balcony.

A tense pause followed, then, "Your identification has been expunged from our records."

They'd erased her already. She expected that. "I have a package for the boss. For both of them. It's something they want. Urgently."

The female voice went quiet again. Several seconds passed before she spoke again. "Where would you like to make your delivery?"

"Somewhere public, covered. No clean shots."

"There may be no guarantee to that."

"I don't give a fuck, Petunia. Yeah, I know it's you. You better guarantee it, or I'll hang up and this conversation never happened." The tone of Jasmine's voice was hard, menacing. "Then you'll never see me or him again, and you know I can make that happen."

Once more, the other end of the line was silent, contemplative. "Where do you have in mind?"

She gave the coordinates and ended the call. She cast a glance towards the bed again. Roman was still asleep. She looked back out into the horizon, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought. The sun was rising, bleeding red. The significance was not lost on her.

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We're getting closer to the end.

Credit to the owners of the gifs.

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