#Even when they had to add mouth flaps to it?

[kismetconstellations]

@sockdooe, I could genuinely write up multiple essays about how poorly a lot of the general relationship-building and maintaining is handled in this show.

There are some truly excellent, stand-out moments between the main cast and the aliens they encounter, like Shay and the Balmerans, and even Slav, and the main cast and the Holts, the Blades, and members of the Garrison.

Shiro and Pidge's older brother-little sister relationship in the early episodes will forever be dear to my heart,

to the point that I cherish even the crumbs we get in the final seasons.

The banter between Shiro and Allura in Collection and Extraction is top-notch.

Not to mention everything else about their relationship when it's acknowledged.

Shiro and Keith have their deep, abiding bond.

And Hunk has amazing moments with darned near everyone, because he's Hunk.

But, yes, so many inter-team and beyond relationships were established, just to be tossed away.

Where's the resolution for Lance's failed attempt to connect with Shiro in the Astral Plane? Why did Shiro start riding in the Green Lion with Pidge on the journey back to Earth after so much significance was given to the literally death-defying depths of his and Keith's devotion to each other? Why set up Acxa having a thing for Keith and Keith going out of his way to save her,

only to do nothing further with their relationship and later hint at a romance between Acxa and Veronica?

(Have a bonus really awkward closeup of Shiro from that episode, as if he isn't disrespected enough in this grueling nightmare of a season:

It looks like they tried to make him white.（πーπ) )

Shiro and Hunk barely talk to each other, despite being the support pillars of Voltron, and its voices of reason. You have two half-Galra main characters, and they- according to what I've read- never have a single conversation? But, we can do a poor man's recreation of Shiro's confrontation with Zarkon in the Astral Plane, only with Keith, this time, so it's "better" because it's one Galra Paladin calling out the other as unworthy, even though said Paladins have absolutely no prior history with or emotional connection to each other and have done nothing between them to earn this moment.

Why did the Real Shiro and Matt never interact with each other at all after Shiro sacrificed himself to save Matt's life?

The majority of this can be explained by the simple fact that somebody in charge hated Shiro, and didn't want to have to do anything with him, anymore. The rest of it is just... sheer, bewildering, aggravating beyond all comprehension incompetence.

[ssweetleaf]

doll parts.

summary: you agree to let dr crane experiment on you for ‘scientific purposes’.

jonathan crane x fem!reader

includes: SMUT 18+, based on this ask here <3, dub-con, clit play, fingering, overstimulation, kinda innocent!reader, doctor kink, jon being a condescending ass, unprotected p in v

˖ ࣪⭑

When you agreed to let Dr Crane experiment on you, you certainly hadn’t had anything remotely crude on your mind. A few tests, you thought, maybe he’d take your bloods— anything to help his scientific studies along and you agreed to be his little guinea pig for the day.

So, when he had you undress and get upon his silver operating table, it was quite the shock.

“Push your knees up to your chest,” he hummed, having you hold them in place while he analysed your pussy, “gotta make sure these tests are thorough, don’t wanna miss a thing.”

Jonathan ran a knuckle through your folds watching them flutter around his digit and coat it in your sweet slick, clit throbbing in anticipation just waiting for his touch.

“D-Dr Crane,” you stuttered out, finding it hard to keep your mewls choked down when he used a thumb and forefinger to spread you open, inspecting you even deeper. “I don’t think this is appropriate.”

You didn’t notice the flicker of a smirk that lifted his mouth before he pouted at you, mocking you, though you had no idea.

“But you said you’d let me experiment on you, sweetheart,” he cooed, using his other hand to pat at your thigh, attempting to somewhat calm your heavy breaths and wide eyes. “It’s for scientific purposes, you know that.”

You bit your lip, unsure.

“For science?” You repeated hopefully, staring at him with glistening eyes, eager to help the young scientist in any way, even if it did mean touching your most private parts.

“For science.” He nodded, “now be a good little patient and let the doctor carry on with his tests.”

Your cheeks burned, but you nodded anyway.

“O-of course, doctor.”

You resumed your position, chest already heaving from the tense atmosphere, peering down at his trailing hands when they squeezed at the fat of your thighs.

Jonathan’s thumb and forefinger parted your pussy lips, opening you up for him and exposing the pretty little pearl of your clit. With his other hand, he pressed his thumb to it, rubbing in figure eights, watching your facial expressions and how they changed with such simple touches, soft whines escaping the confines of your throat.

His eyes flitted back to your cunt, watching your arousal seep with each circle of his thumb, your hole clenching, desperate to be filled.

So he did just that and slipped a finger inside you, curling the digit upwards as it hit the base of his knuckle, and he smirked when you gasped at the sudden intrusion, your wetness just letting him slip right in, having him easily add another finger on his outward thrust.

“Oh, doctor,” you breathed, clenching hard around his fingers, the crude squelching causing your cheeks to burn.

“How do you feel, dear?” He asked, the tips of his fingers prodding at the spongy wall of your g-spot.

“F-feels good,” you managed to choke out, bashfully meeting his smug gaze. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

A virgin, he thought. Of course you were, pathetic little lamb— with the way you shivered from just his words alone he should’ve known. Hell, it made him harder, cock growing and forming a tent underneath his slacks, throbbing hotly and just begging to be released.

“I’m so glad to hear it, dear,” he cooed, reaching up to pat at your cheek with his palm, a little too hard, though you were sure he didn’t mean a thing by it.

With each passing moment, your belly started to tighten, growing warm and tingly, butterflies were flapping around and you felt like you needed to pee.

“Dr Crane, I feel strange,” you pouted, tears threatening to ebb over your waterline, it felt so good, but so unfamiliar.

“Just let go, darling,” he said, “this is what I was hoping for— my tests are going absolutely splendidly.”

Before you knew it, your orgasm rushed over you, your slick gushing along his fingers and down his wrist, your pussy clenching and spasming around his still prodding digits and you heaved out sobs. The feeling was so intense, so good, you hadn’t realised anything could feel as good as what Jonathan had made you feel.

“Say thank you, dear, it’s only polite.” He was smirking, though you somehow mistook it for a smile.

You nodded your head, staring at him with big, glassy eyes.

“Of course,” you breathed, “thank you, doctor.”

You had started to settle, your breathing and heartbeat evening out, until Jonathan’s thumb pressed to your clit once again, rolling and playing with the sensitive nub.

You whined out, you didn’t think you had it in you to go again. You grabbed onto his wrist, clawing at his skin and gasping into the stuffy air.

“In our agreement you said you’d take whatever I gave you, correct?” He spoke, an unoccupied hand grabbing at your cheeks, your lips jutting out into a pout.

You nodded, eyes wide like saucers and you shifted from all the fondling to your poor clit.

“Am I correct?” He repeated, much more stern that time, his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing from underneath his lenses.

“Y-yes, doctor.” You nodded.

“Well then,” he muttered, letting go of your face, directing his attention to your quivering cunt. “You’ll be a good girl and do just that.”

Quickly, another orgasm approached, simply by him playing with your abused little clit, urging you to cum for him and watch your hole quiver around nothing.

One after the other, over and over again, you came around his fingers and on his hand, your body heaving and jolting from the constant painful pleasure, he had to restrain you with a hand to your stomach, pinning you to the table and forcing you to ride out each orgasm.

Jonathan’s cock was painfully hard, and he reached down to palm at himself, smirking when he caught you staring, pussy fluttering at the sight.

“Now for my last experiment,” he pulled at his belt, tugging it from the loops and unzipping his fly, grasping at his cock, he pulled it from his briefs, pumping himself a few times, little beads of pearlescent pre-cum dripping from his tip.

You were babbling, completely inebriated from his touch— he was so long, and just the right amount of thickness, veins protruding along either side and underneath, his tip a pretty shade of red that had your mouth watering.

“Let’s see if you can take this, hm?” He mocked you, pouting down at your pathetic form, tears streaming down your cheeks, long lines of mascara staining your skin all the way down your neck. “M’sure you can— been so greedy for everything I’ve given you so far.”

He tapped his cock against your pussy, the wetness splashing up against your thighs, the obscene sounds of your sopping cunt had you blushing.

He pushed into you without a warning, to the hilt with no resistance, your creamy pussy letting him slip right inside, the mushroomed head of his pretty cock nudging at your spot so deep inside, even his fingers couldn’t reach.

Oh, you felt so full.

“Such a good little patient.” He groaned. “On second thoughts, I might need you to stay overnight— get a much more thorough examination.”

[daddyricsdoll]

Can I please have "Fuck I'll Make it Fit" with Daniel Ricciardo please?

1k ✭ Celebration

☆*🍯 ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

“You think you can be quiet for me?” Daniel whispers in my ear from behind. Pushing my torso down further against the balcony. Forcing my ass to push out and exposed pussy on display from under my short skirt. He runs his two fingers between my folds before pushing them both inside of me. Pumping his fingers in an attempt to stretch me. “You’re already squeezing my fingers, fuck imagine my dick.” Daniel groans into my ear. Scissoring and then curling his fingers. Moans escaping my lips as he adds another. Daniel shoves two of his free fingers in my mouth in hopes of suppressing each unholy sound leaving my lips. Groaning and grunting in my ear. His front pressed against me, and bulge pushed against my ass.

“You see those people, all they have to do is look up and watch me fuck you with my fingers.” The risk of someone catching us in the middle of this act was somehow arousing. 

Allowing myself to wallow in the sensation of his fingers. Daniels brought me closer and closer, from the way his words left his mouth and how he thrusted in me, never losing his pattern of stroking my g-spot at every touch.

I bite Daniels fingers, falling into how he finds pain to be a pleasure. My pussy clenching as he groans, and I finally release. Sparks of pleasure shooting through my body. 

Daniel doesn’t wait a second to put his two fingers between his lips and start undoing his jeans. Moaning at the taste of me before having to help himself. Quickly pulling his jeans down his legs. The brunette then flapped the back of my skirt up, revealing me fully. One of his calloused hands slapping my ass before massaging it a little. Spreading me open so he can run his tip up and down my folds. Mixing his precum with my own slick before he starts pushing against my entrance.

“Fucking stubborn aren’t ya?” His fingers burn bruises into my hips while he holds me tightly as he forces his tip inside of me. “Fuck. I’ll make it fit.” Not going softly on my needy pussy, already pulsating around him. His cock creates a burning sensation as he finally gets a fraction of himself inside of me.

“Do you think you can take me all?” Daniel whispers to me, his voice almost a purr that blends with gravel. 

“Do you think I can?” My voice nearly a breath.

“Let's find out.” An abrupt, rough ram of Daniels hips takes away the last bit of oxygen I held. Fully making me lose any last fragment of composure I had. A scream caught in my throat as my mouth gaped open and deep pants substitute my voice. 

“Taking daddy’s cock like my good little whore.” His words have an undertone of vulnerability. Only expressing the way I felt. So vulnerable as he controlled all the power. Dominating my body to move at the pleasure of his dick and harsh hands. 

One of Daniel's arms sneaked up my arched back, grabbing onto my hair and creating a makeshift ponytail to force my head up. Seeing stars even in the daylight. 

Each of my hands held onto the edge of the balcony, trying to stabilise my body, but always getting denied when Daniel pounded into me so hard that my legs shook. Even some of the more basic things become a struggle. 

The delicacy of his cock being memorised by my pussy and hazy mind. Each thrust brings my intense climax closer. The knot in my stomach grows tighter and tighter, binding together even more until it becomes something I can’t withhold. 

My walls compress against Daniel's dick. Coming around the bottom of his shaft, and eliciting the most satisfying moans from his lips. My head being forced back even more as Daniel releases as well. His hold against my hips and hair, never been tighter. 

Coming inside of me and painting my walls with his cum. 

“Look,” Daniel guides my head down, eyes watching the familiar group of men that stare back at us. “they’re all hard watching the way your tight pussy fits me all in.”

[msgexymunson]

Sammy's Mom

Description: Eddie Munson finds it difficult to get over his fantasies about you, his best friend's mom. He tries so hard to keep it in check. The only problem? Sammy's mom has got it going on.

A/N: kind of a little nod to the song "Stacey's Mom" (which is 20 years old now BTW, so if you remember it it's time to take aspirin for your back pain), I've written too much older Eddie in my time so trying to balance it out, as I've given him far too much rizz! And his friend is called Sammy as I've watched a lot of Supernatural recently. Please comment and reblog if you enjoy this my sweethearts.

Warnings: where do I start lmao, NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll slap you with a wet fish, age gap, Eddie's 21, reader is early 40s, MILF reader, reader referred to as 'Mrs F' a few times no first name given, perv Eddie, voyeurism, male masturbation, very slight foot fetish (nothing actually happens), oral both male and female receiving, p in v unprotected sex, slight anal play, cum eating.

10.5k words

Masterlist 

"UNCLE EDDIE!!" 

Johnny's little six year old voice rings out like a bell in the front yard. You look out the window and see him running as fast as his little legs could carry him towards a young man getting out of a beat up van. 

"Hey Squirt!" Crouching to his knees, he accepts your kids embrace, then stands with him, swinging him around in the air as Johnny shrieks uncontrollably, unbridled joy brimming from his chest. The next minute he's got Johnny on his shoulders, walking around the house to the back yard. 

You smile at their antics, warmed at the gesture. Eddie has always been good with your youngest son when he comes to visit Sammy, your oldest. It was nice, him having another man around to look up to, even if he really needs to remember to watch his language. 

Voices sound from the back yard; Eddie had found Sammy and as usual, they were loud and laughing. Not that you minded at all, any laughter those kids could get was music to your ears. 

You grab your sunglasses and perch them on top of your head, searching around for your gardening tools. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and you wanted to be near the kids at least. Grasping your pruners and gardening gloves in one hand and a cooler in the other, you make your way to the rear of the house. 

Pushing the back door open with a hip, you see Sammy is already in the pool. Johnny is still talking a mile a minute at Eddie, as he sits on the edge of a lawn chair. 

Well, he's certainly grown up. 

Eddie's shirtless, sitting there in his long black swimming trunks. There's a new tattoo on his ribs but you can't make it out from this distance. He's looking toned; his jaw is sharper, with shoulders broader than you remember. He's become a man. 

When the hell did that happen? 

Shaking your head out of your temporary revelry, you walk over to the pair of them. The snippets of conversation you overhear as you approach widen the smile on your face. 

"So, you think of any new monsters for me big guy?" 

Johnny beams at Eddie with pride. "Yeah! So right, it's like, a big bat thing right? With metal bits all over, and- and- then it's got these huuuuge teeth, and- and- when he opens its mouth the teeth fly out, right, and turn into bats!!" 

He starts excitedly flapping his arms around and screeching as Eddie laughs and ruffles his hair.

"Bats huh? That's sick. Pretty metal, squirt. Have to add that to the campaign." 

Johnny beams at the praise, staring down at his hand, trying to work out his fingers, then flashes the devil horn hand at him triumphantly. 

"Johnny honey, do you want to play in the pool? Give Uncle Eddie a chance to breathe?" 

"Yeah! Can I do cannonballs? Can I can I can I?" 

His enthusiasm always brings a smile to your face. "Sure thing honey, just don't go in the deep end, 'K?" 

"Kay!" He flashes a thousand watt smile at you and runs off, calling to his brother. 

Your gaze returns to Eddie, who you are sure was just checking you out. His eyes flick to yours almost guiltily. 

"Brought some beers out for you both. Here." Passing him the cooler, your hands brush briefly, the slight touch running a shiver down your spine despite the heat. 

"Thanks Mrs F." 

Eddie licks his lips and you trace the movement with your eyes.

"Mom! What are you wearing?" 

Sammy has exited the pool, dripping water everywhere. You look down at your outfit. You were wearing a two piece, slightly skimpier than your usual swimwear, and a pair of jean hotpants. 

"Sammy love, it's hot. I'm in my backyard. What am I supposed to do? Dress like a nun?" 

Eddie snorts a laugh next to you. 

"But you're all… exposed mom." 

"Sammy, shut up. Your mom can wear what she wants." 

"Yeah? You're only saying that because you-"

But you're destined to never hear the end of that sentence as Eddie pushes him into the pool. Water splashes everywhere, and Eddie laughs, throwing his head back. The gesture has you staring yet again, looking at the skin on his neck, the way his Adam's apple bobs. A mad idea enters your head; what if you just darted your tongue out and licked over it? Decorated that delicate skin with kisses? Nipped at the sides of his throat with your teeth?

Eddie makes eye contact with you then, and you quickly look away. He was sure you were eyeing him up, almost certain of it. Hell, he's been staring at you for years, mapping your curves with his eyes, knowing he'll never get a chance to feel them under his hands, but the look you just gave him made his stomach twist.

Before your thoughts can go any further you tear yourself away and over to the rose bushes. You deadhead the rose bush as if your life depends on it, furiously snipping and cutting, as if you're trying to trim back the impure thoughts you're having. 

After a while, the bushes are looking a lot neater. Stepping back, you remove your gardening gloves and swipe the sweat beads on your brow with the back of your hand. 

"Mrs F, you wanna beer?" 

You turn to see Eddie laying on a sun lounger, waving a cold one. As you walk towards him he stands up to hand it to you. 

"That a new tattoo Eddie?" You ask, pointing to his abdomen. He looks taken aback by your question but responds nonetheless. 

"Yeah, you like it?" 

Your hand drifts towards him almost instinctively, only realising when his muscles tense under your soft touch. It's a scorpion, surrounded in a wreath of flames. Tracing it with your fingers, you circle it slowly. Eddie can feel his heart pounding in his chest. A slow moan escapes Eddie's lips which pulls you out of wherever the hell you were heading. The heat must have gotten to your head. Pulling back your fingers, you respond.

"Yeah, I like it. Metal." 

Looking up around him through your lashes, your eyes meet his. He looks flushed, cheeks heating at your stare. 

"You OK Eddie?" 

"Y-yeah, fine. I'm gonna have a dip in the pool." 

He shuffles awkwardly off, nearly bent double. All his strange stance does is draw attention to the tent in his swimming trunks that has appeared. It's really rather large; to your amazement, you can't seem to take your eyes off it. Eddie dives into the pool, swimming over to your son. 

Did I just do that? 

You shake your head, banishing thoughts of Eddie's package, and head off to the kitchen to clean some dishes. 

As Eddie rushes into the pool, he's wishing the cool water would shrink the raging hard on he just got. 

Fuck, you look so good today. That skimpy bikini top barely covering the curves of your tits; them damn near spilling out of the top. Those tiny shorts, framing your hips and ass perfectly. Then you had to go and touch him. That had him nearly busting in his pants. He can't help but wonder if it was on purpose. A crazy thought he shouldn't be entertaining. 

He dips his head under the water trying to cool the blood that had rushed to his cheeks. 

You had to be at least 40. Sammy's Dad had been out of the picture for a while, he knew that much. He couldn't help but wonder if you were a little lonely; maybe that's why you had been flirting with him. Or it was entirely Eddie's imagination and he just needs to jerk off and get it out of his system. 

As he gets out of the water, shaking his hair like a dog, he thinks he sees you looking at him through the kitchen window, but he can't be sure. 

"Dude, why have you got a boner?" Sammy points at him from the water, forcing Eddie to cup his erection, trying to hide it from prying eyes. 

"I can't help it!" He whisper shouts, cheeks flushing anew, "your mom's hot!" 

"Eddie! Don't say that, that's gross!" Sammy slings back, pulling a disgusted face.

"Hey it's not, she's a total fox, what can I do, it's like, biological, she's a babe!" 

Little did he know you can hear every word, pressing your lips together firmly to suppress a laugh as you dry up a cup in the kitchen. 

"She's like, really old, and she's my mom for God's sake!" 

"Hey, rude, she's not that old. You think she's into younger guys?" You can hear the smile in his voice, he's clearly just trying to wind Sammy up now, but your thighs clench together at the thought. The cup in your hands is dry as a bone right now. 

"Eddie shut the f-" 

"What's a boner?" The little voice is clear and loud, cutting through the argument. 

A loud laugh shoots from your chest uncontrollably. You try to mask it with your hand but there's nothing you can do, it's out there now. 

Eddie's head whips around to face the house, flicking water droplets in its wake. 

"Oh shit." It's low, but loud enough to hear. 

Making your way back outside, you call out to Johnny to save either of them answering the awkward question.

"Come on kid, you want a snack?" 

"Yeah mommy! Shit!" Eddie's mouth drops open. 

"What did I say about copying Eddie" you ask sternly. 

He parrots back in a sing-song voice, "don't copy Eddie, Eddie is dirty." 

"That's right. Come on, inside." He runs past you in the way only a child can, feet flat on the floor slapping on the concrete.

Eddie steps a little closer to you.

"I'm so sorry Mrs F it won't-" 

"Hey, it's OK," you reply, stepping to meet him. You drop your voice lower, hand up as if you're telling a secret. On autopilot, Eddie leans towards you to hear your whisper, close enough to smell your shampoo. 

"Sometimes mommy's dirty too." 

Turning on your heel, you walk back into the house without a glance, leaving Eddie with his jaw on the floor.

Where the hell did that come from?

You try to steady your breathing as you go inside. That was reckless of you, he's half your age. You admonish yourself, telling your brain that you need to stop flirting with the poor boy. 

Eddie's frozen on the spot. It's clear you overheard their little conversation, and then you come out with something like that? It's definitely not his imagination at this point. For a crazy moment he thinks he might actually have a shot at you. 

Stop it. She's Sammy's mother for Christ's sake. Pull yourself together Munson. 

"Imma take a quick shower if that's alright and get, er, changed. You wanna work on the campaign some more?" Eddie says it over his shoulder to Sammy, not daring to turn. He's never been so hard in all his life. 

"Sure, just stay out of my mom's room." 

Eddie laughs nervously, "who do you think I am?" As he walks to the house. 

"Eddie fuckin' Munson." Sammy mutters under his breath. 

As he stumbles into the house with his bundle of clothes over his crotch, he catches another glimpse of you, on your hands and knees searching in a cupboard. 

"Honey, I don't think we've got any animal crackers left." You say over your shoulder to a pouting Johnny. 

You're barely contained in your jean hot pants, the denim tight against your perfect ass. 

"Fuckin' hell" Eddie mutters under his breath, tearing his eyes away to make his way upstairs. 

He practically runs up the stairs, tripping slightly on the last step. Flinging his body into the bathroom, he shuts and locks the door. 

Five seconds later he's in the shower with his hand wrapped around his slippery cock, tugging on it as if it were his last day on earth. 

Fuck, why does she have to be so fine? 

He's whimpering and stifling breathy moans as he cums hard in less than five minutes. Shame snags its sneaky claws into his heart then, as he hangs his head under the shower head. He needs to get it together before the thought of you ruins him completely. 

********************

Knocking on your eldest son's door, he calls out for you to enter. Both him and Eddie are sitting on the bed, a pile of books and notes between them. You do your best to ignore the smoky weed smell as you address him.

"Sammy, I'm heading out, you still OK to take care of Johnny?" 

"Woah, Mrs F you look h-" Sammy elbows him in the ribs before he can finish the sentence, "-very nice." Eddie finishes lamely. 

A smile spreads over your face at his words. Your date tonight was nothing special, not really, but the need growing between your legs needed to be sorted out somehow. So, you'd dressed to impress; a red figure hugging dress, ending just at the knee, with matching slingbacks. Your hair was down, hanging past your shoulders in soft curls. 

"Mom, I'm going to Tiffany's, to stay over, remember?" Sammy responds, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at you.

"That was tonight?" Well, fuck. "Your grandma's coming to pick Johnny up at 9, can't you stay until then? 

"I can watch him." 

You both turn to look at Eddie. He looks just as surprised as you two at his words.

"I can watch him, no problem. I ain't got anywhere to be tonight."

Eddie doesn't know why he offered. Well, in part he did. He might get to see you again in that dress later. 

"Thanks Eddie, you're a lifesaver. I can pay-" 

"Oh no, don't worry about it." He flashes a grin which does something to your insides, melting them just a little.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it. Johnny's downstairs watching TV, he's had dinner, just need to wait for my mom to pick him up. You sure it's OK?" 

"Of course, it's no problem." 

"OK, well make yourself at home." You give him a winning smile of your own which makes his face flush red. 

"Oh, and Sammy?" 

"Yeah mom?" 

"Use protection." 

"Mom!" 

You laugh and shut the door, heading off to your date. 

********************

The date was a total bust, not that you'd expected anything less. Greg from accounting was nice, sure; kind of handsome, in a middle aged balding kind of way. A reliable sort of guy. Then, when the dinner was over and he kissed you, you knew there was no way it was going to go any further. So, you'd refused his invitation to go to a bar, made your excuses and got a cab home. 

Standing outside your house, you look at the time. 9:30. Rock and roll. You huff into the humid night air at how old you must seem right now, and open your front door. 

"Eddie!" 

Sprawled on the sofa, manspreading, sits Eddie. A beer rests on the coffee table, and the TV is blaring out some horror film. 

He scrambles to his feet looking like he's about to be told off. 

"Mrs F, sorry, erm, your mom's not here yet, she called saying she was running late-" 

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door. You open it, and see your mom standing there, pushing past you in a cloud of perfume. 

"Hey love, so sorry I'm late!" She looks at you, then Eddie. "Is this your date?" 

Blushing a furious red, you shake your head. 

"Oh, no this is Sammy's friend, he was watching Johnny for a bit." 

"Oh, the young man I spoke to on the phone. Shame, he's very handsome." She winks at you. 

"Mom!" 

Eddie looks like he's about to die from blood loss; his face is so drained it's ghostly white. 

"I-I'll go get squirt," he stumbles out awkwardly. 

"Mom, please behave." You whisper when he's left the room.

"I'm behaving! I thought you were on a date, what happened?" 

"He wasn't my type." 

"Well, you should find someone who is. How long has it been?" 

You run your hand through your hair, feeling a little more confrontational than usual due to the alcohol in your veins. 

"Mom, just drop it. I'm fine!" 

"OK, OK! That babysitter is a fine looking young man-" 

"Mom!" 

"Mommy!" You turn just in time for Johnny to grab your legs in a hard hug, squishy cheek pushing against your thigh. 

"We went on an adventure! I'm a Knight, I saved the lady! There was gobbins and stuff!" His little eyes shine, staring at Eddie in pure adoration. 

"Really? Well done! Sounds amazing love. Go on, go with nanna. I love you." 

"OK! Love you mom! Bye Uncle Eddie!" He runs over to him and grabs his legs fiercely. Eddie ruffles his hair in response.

"Night squirt. Or should I say Sir Johnny the Just?" 

"Yeah! Imma hero!" He beams and runs off to grasp your mother's hand, regaling her of his adventures. 

"I'll see you later mom," you say, passing her Johnny's overnight bag by the door. 

As the door shuts, the only sounds are coming from the gristly movie on the TV until Eddie switches it off. Silence. 

"Mrs F, I only opened the beer after I put him to bed, I swear-" 

"Hey, it's fine, don't worry. Thanks for staying longer, I appreciate it." 

"Oh, it's fine. My trailers empty anyway, and you have cable." He smiles sheepishly at you. 

"I told you, make yourself at home. Finish your beer." 

Shoes are kicked off to join the jumble at the front door, and you rub some life back into your aching heels. Eddie's staring at your feet and he can't figure out why. He's never had a thing for feet, but yours? Yours he'd happily have running over his body, in his mouth, on his cock. He's almost ashamed at how just the slightest bit of your flesh on show has him practically drooling. 

You're oblivious to Eddie's perverse thoughts however. Tonight was not what you wanted, and it makes you huff aloud at the thought. 

"You alright Mrs F?" Eddie asks, concern in his voice as he sits back down on the couch, trying his hardest not to stare at your cleavage. 

"Yeah I'm-" why are you lying? "no, actually I'm not. Not the night I was expecting." When you flash a weak smile at Eddie, it's not returned. He looks worried almost. 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

It's sweet of him to ask, and you're about to brush it off but he just looks so invested in your welfare that it takes you aback briefly. 

"Sure. Hang on a minute." You pad barefoot to the kitchen and grab a beer, returning to the living room to sit on the couch beside him. 

Eddie is trying to tell himself he's just being nice. It's not just an excuse to stay. It's difficult to believe his own thoughts however when your dress is riding up your thigh like that.

The very air between you both seems thick and laced with unanswered questions, tension real and palpable. 

"So, Sir Johnny the Just?" You ask, to try and clear the closing space. 

"Yeah," Eddie grins, face lighting up at the mention of your boy, "I gave him the name. Made a little one shot for him, you know, fought some goblins, saved a damsel in distress. He's got a knack for D&D." 

Your eyes glisten at that.

"Thanks, he really looks up to you. It's nice, him having some guys around." 

"Can I ask, what happened to… Mr F?" He knows he's crossing a line here, but he's so curious, and Sammy never talks about it. 

"He left me. I was pregnant with Johnny, and he met some blonde twig, had an affair." 

"Oh, I'm so fuckin' sorry." 

You shrug. It's trauma, yes, but it's passed. A wound that has long since closed over the years, scarring but healing. You sip your beer and ask a line crossing question of your own.

"So, no girlfriend then? Since you're free on a Saturday night?" 

You're not sure where that came from, but it's been asked now. A bubble of nerves pops when you ask it, showering you in drops of second guesses. 

"N-no, well I mean, yeah I've had like, girlfriends in the past but no, I'm single. As a pringle." 

What was that about? Smooth Munson. 

You just laugh as he visibly cringes at his own words. 

"Pringles aren't single, they fit together. They come in a tube." You add, mock helpfully. 

You both chuckle then, diffusing some of the awkwardness between you. He knocks your knee with his. You reciprocate, and look up into those soulful puppy dog eyes of his. 

Eddie's arm lays on the back of the couch behind you, and he's painfully aware of that fact. He wants to drop it to your shoulder, to run circles on your exposed skin and give you that smile, the smile he's given to a dozen girls. But you aren't a girl. You're a woman. The thought is making him more nervous than a virgin on prom night. 

Coughing the thought away, he asks you about tonight. 

"So, what happened on your date? I thought you'd be out later." 

"So did I." You slug some more beer back to calm yourself, and continue, "he was a nice guy. Opened doors, paid for dinner. Then he kissed me." 

Eddie attempted to ignore the burning jealousy in his gut. 

"Oh yeah? Sounds awful.' 

Laughing, you reach and stroke his side for a minute. Your hand lingers, feeling down to his hip. Eddie's heart is pounding in his throat. To his amazement, you leave it there, absentmindedly running fingers over his t-shirt. 

'Yeah, torture," you quip, "it was the kiss." 

Suddenly, you're moving your hand, much to Eddie's dismay, and turning to face him on the couch. He does the same, noticing that his arm is now so close to your head he can feel a slight tickle from your hair. 

"Can I be honest with you?" 

"Sure," Eddie tries to say coolly, to act like his entire insides aren't on fire because of the eye contact you're giving him. 

"It's, er, been a while. A very long while." Your eyes dip down, unsure why the hell you're telling Eddie this, but something about him is making you want to be open when usually you're a closed book. 

Eddie swallows thickly. He knows exactly what you're getting at. On instinct his thumb is rubbing the back of your head, over the soft curls. You don't seem to mind, better yet, your shoulders drop some tension, letting go just a little. 

Still looking down, you say "I can usually tell what someone's going to be like, in bed, from a kiss. Never been wrong yet," you laugh a little, "and he felt, well, dull, and kinda selfish." 

Grabbing your beer for something to distract you from the ache in your core, you drink some more, nearly finishing it. 

As you place it back down on the coffee table, you glance at Eddie's lap. He's fumbling with his rings, spinning one with his thumb as he shifts in his seat. There's an unmissable bulge in the front of his jeans; they're so tight you can see the outline of it. Of him. 

Glancing up at his face when you feel brave enough, it's beetroot red, but his eyes look dark, hungry almost. 

"Well, th-that's a cool superpower to have," he laughs out nervously. 

"I suppose it is" You smile. 

Eddie's trying so hard to control himself. The devil on his shoulder is pulling at his hair and yelling in his ear to make a move. 

This isn't right though, it's Sammy's mom for fucks sake. 

That's when you put your hand on his knee, touching that bare patch of skin where his jeans are frayed. Your touch is delicate, almost hesitant, and it destroys any resolve Eddie had. His hand is shaking slightly as he puts his fingers over yours. 

The touch is warming and electric, fanning the flames of the blazing fire in your stomach. As your eyes meet, Eddie's confidence grows. He can see that you want this, but someone needs to make the first move, and he would kick himself if he missed out because he didn't have the balls to make it.

"You know sweetheart," he begins, as you take a sharp breath at the nickname, he's never called you anything other than Mrs F before that, "you can't just say you have a superpower like that and not show me." 

There's nerves in his voice, but also a cheeky smile playing on his lips. To his amazement you blush, mouth curving into a smile of your own. 

"Listen, Eddie, you're a very sweet boy-" 

"-man," He interjects, "I'm 21." 

Chuckling, you reply, "OK, a very sweet young man, but I don't think that's a good idea." 

It's true, you don't. It's a very bad idea, but it's one you can't get out of your head, your eyes drawn to the curve of his jaw, his stubble, those plush lips of his. Wetting your lips impulsively, you nibble at the bottom one which sends Eddie's head into a dizzying whirlwind. 

"I just wanna know if I'm good in the sack, think it's only fair if you can tell me, it's just a kiss." 

Luck being pushed as far as it can go and then a little further, he daringly places a hand on your cheek. 

He is right, it's only a kiss. 

You say it in your head as if you're trying to convince yourself of the lie. By the time you realise how weak of an argument it is, you're already leaning forward, eyes unmistakably drawn to his lips. 

Eddie leans in, breath fanning your face. 

"Don't you want to… satisfy your curiosity?" 

It's bold, he knows, but you're the one who leans in further.

Eddie doesn't think twice, not when your eyes are hooded like that and your lips are forming a sultry pout. He presses his lips to yours softly at first, feeling the plush of them melt against his, his hand winding into your hair. 

You don't stop him, or pull back. His lips on yours are disarming, taking away your bite. The kiss is gentle, and you dissolve into it, moving your lips against his with a passion you can't remember ever feeling. 

Eddie's trying really hard not to just stick his tongue down your throat and feel you up, but he needs to prove something. He might not ever get a chance ever again, so he takes it slow. Opening his mouth, his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, begging. Not only do you let him, you return his tongue with a lick of your own, running it over his lip in turn. Tongues stroke into each other's mouths sensually; you feel as if you have something to prove. Like he's the one who will be judging you and not the other way around.

He tastes intoxicating; you can't put your finger on why, it's beer, and cigarettes, and something else that's drawing you in. It's just pure Eddie. His smell too, leather, smoke and Old Spice;  it's filling you up from the inside out, making your head spin. 

Eddie's obsessed. Your touch, your scent, your taste. He could kiss you forever; he could kiss you until he dies, suffocated by your mouth, your passion. This feels like some sort of fever dream and he never wants to wake up.

Your fingers are touching cotton fabric before you even understand that you've got a fistful of his shirt, pulling him in further. He responds by dropping his hand to your neck, thumb rubbing intoxicating patterns on your pulse point. 

When you're feeling on the brink of being entirely consumed by his kiss, he's the one to pull away. It's a little sneaky, he knows that, but he wants the upper hand and thinks he won't get it ever again. Eddie can't believe his luck when he sees your eyes still closed, lips chasing his touch, with a ball of his shirt in your hands. 

As your eyes flutter open, you look up at him. A self satisfied smirk is smeared across his face and you can't help but think he's won this round of whatever the hell you're playing. Playing with fire it feels like. 

A moment too late and you remember your hand bunched into his clothes. You unhand him and slap his knee, fingers unwilling to pull away. 

"So, what's the verdict sweetheart?" Eddie asks. His fingers are still massaging at your neck, rubbing back and forth, sending tingles down your spine. 

"What?" You ask, mind well and truly blank. 

"Guessing that's good." He laughs, taking his hand away to take a sip of his beer. "Remember your superpower, Wonder Woman?" 

"Oh, yeah. It was… good." You shrug, picking up the last of your beer and downing it. 

"Good? Good?! Come on, you gotta give me more than that!" He huffs dramatically, slamming his beer bottle on the table. 

Laughing aloud, you turn and face him again. He really is beautiful. His hair framing his face, that triumphant smile on his lips, laughter lines creasing in his day old stubble. You can almost believe he's older than he is, but knowing what you know about his family, he's been through a lot. 

"OK, it was the best kiss I've had in a while. A very long time." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

It's quiet for a moment; a loaded kind of quiet. It hangs heavily in the air like a thunderstorm. 

"Well, how about you?" You ask. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You know what I mean!" You laugh, nudging him with your foot.

"It was… good." He says, mimicking your words. Then he takes in your face, drinking in your beauty with his eyes, until he can't hold back anymore, "alright, it was mind blowing, you're really fuckin' hot." 

"Yeah, for my age" You scoff at his response, disbelieving him even after that kiss. You hear it alot, ever since you passed 35. 'You look good for your age', the backhanded compliment that feels like a knife in the chest. 

"That's bullshit!" Eddie responds loudly, shaking you out of your head and into the here and now, "you're fucking hot, period. Nothing to do with age sweetheart." 

If his words are lies, the bulge in his pants sure isn't. You feel drunk, and not from the alcohol. Eddie's kiss had you feeling reckless. Naughty. Young. 

"I overheard your little conversation earlier," you admit, scooching closer to him on the couch. Faces an inch apart, Eddie's torn between pouncing or running. So are you. 

"Yeah, you weren't supposed to hear that. Kinda glad you did." 

That makes you braver. All thought has gone, and the pounding need in between your legs has you losing all inhibitions as you lean towards his neck.

"Do you want me, Eddie?" You purr into his ear, nipping at the lobe with your teeth. 

"Uh, like, yeah. Yes, o-of course" He replies shakily, hand restless against your thigh. 

"You're trembling Eddie" it's your turn to smirk, lips dragging against his throat, "you've been with a woman before, right?" You know he has, but you can't help teasing him a little. 

Yes, a dozen, but none like you. 

"Y-yeah, I'm not a virgin, if th-that's what you're asking." 

Get it the fuck together Munson. 

"Then why are you nervous?" 

"Girls don't make me nervous. You make me nervous" He laughs, with absolute honesty in his words. 

With a flick of your eyes to his lips, you cradle his jaw. Eddie can't wait a second longer, he's about to burst. He takes a breath, grabs you by the hip, and presses a hard kiss to your mouth. 

The first one was a test, an examination. This one is pure desire, neediness etched into the marrow of his bones. Yet you're the one to deepen the kiss, mouth opening up to him, your tongue running over his with fervour. Lust is rolling off the pair of you, filling the room with its sultry fog.

Impatience gets the best of him, he needs you closer, so he yanks you into his lap, hands grabbing hard to your hips. Gasping into his mouth at the sudden dominance, you let him lead. His kiss is burning you, hot and heavy. Your hips start grinding into his lap of their own accord, each movement inching your dress higher and higher. 

Eddie rolls it up and over your ass so your red lace panties are on display, dress bunching at your waist. His hands are all over you, feeling at your thighs, your hips, your ass, kneading at the dough of your flesh desperately. 

Each grope, each bruising squeeze of his fingertips has you panting in his mouth, your hands winding into his loose locks, tugging. 

The kisses are becoming sloppier, allegedly immovable lipstick starting to smear on Eddie's face. You're biting at his bottom lip, grinding hard against his clothed dick; Eddie feels like he's died and gone to heaven. 

He tugs at your dress urgently, coaxing you to wriggle it up your frame and fling it away. 

The sight of you in your matching bra and panty set is enough to stop him in his tracks. It's gorgeous satin and lace, one of many you have. Even Eddie can see this is expensive. He runs his hands up and down your sides, drinking it in as if it were his last day on Earth. 

You allow him the few moments he takes to worship you with his eyes. If anything you're enjoying it as much as he is, his hungry stare fuelling your ego. 

"See something you like?" You tease, fingernails dragging across his neck. 

"Fuck yeah" comes his breathy response, pulling down a cup of your bra roughly, his mouth finding your nipple and sucking. 

Throwing your head back, you let out an unadulterated moan. You grab the hem of his shirt and tug it upwards. He gets the message, wrestling it off of his toned frame and throwing it away as if he's exasperated with clothes. Relishing in this new uncharted territory, your hands run all over his skin, tracing tattoos and freckles, fingernails leaving evidence of your desire. 

"Sorry, I just need to-" instead of telling you, he shows you, standing up with you grasped firmly at the hips. You think for a moment that he's going to take you upstairs, but he's pressing you down gently to the floor, lips and tongue tasting your neck, playfully licking over your collarbone. 

Eddie needs to know what your pussy tastes like; he's been dreaming of this for as long as he can remember. The thought of you unravelling because of him has him twitching in his pants. 

So, he makes his way down your torso, mapping your skin with his tongue. You're just so reactive; each time he laps and sucks at you a breathy gasp comes spilling from perfect painted lips.  

It's driving you crazy, his mouth is setting each patch of skin aflame, burning with passion. You're surprised by his movements as his mouth trails lower and lower. It looks like he's taking every enjoyment in tasting you, and the way he wiggles to get between your spread legs makes you realise he's going to go down on you. That is what's so surprising; you've never had a man who did that without some serious coaxing, let alone one who seemed to really want to. 

Now you're not self conscious by any means; you've grown to be very comfortable with your body, the feeling just comes with age. You can't help but be a little worried however, when Eddie reaches the stretch marks on your tummy. Little lightning strikes, lighter than the rest of your skin. You're not embarrassed, those little marks on your stomach and thighs are signs of your two beautiful boys. What's troubling you is the fact that Eddie can't have possibly seen any before, at least like this. What if they disgust him? 

It seems you needn't have worried. Eddie's in awe, running his fingers over the soft skin of the scars. He plants a kiss over the top and watches your muscles tense up. 

It's not that he likes them, or dislikes them for that matter; it's the fact that they are real. You're real, and in front of him in your underwear, and they ground him to the fact that this is actually happening. 

Reaching the hem of your panties he's torn between taking them off or not; you're just so damn pretty in them. He settles for running his tongue along the seam making you moan. You, Sammy's mom, moaning underneath him. He'd pinch himself if he didn't think it would spoil the mood. 

"You can take them off if you want baby." 

"Can I just, move them to the side? You're so fuckin' pretty like this." 

"Sure" you nod at him. He does so and nearly dies at the sight. Seems everything about you is thought of, down to your manicured nails, waxed legs, and bikini wax. The little patch of hair left is driving Eddie fucking crazy. 

He wastes no more time and runs his tongue through your folds, lapping at you like a man possessed. You taste exquisite, a flavour Eddie will remember for the rest of his life. It has him groaning into you, the vibration tingling over your clit making you writhe under him.

He's trying to map what you like, what makes you whimper, what makes you buck into his mouth. You can tell he's trying, really trying, but you know what you need. 

"Eddie, oh fuck, use, use the flat of your tongue," as he changes his tongue shape and rhythm, you wind your fingers into his hair and tug him right where you need him, "Oh God fuck, right there!" 

Yes fucking ma'am. 

Eddie's birthdays, Christmases, Easters, fuck it, all the holidays, have come at once. You are using him for your pleasure, riding his face. His dick is so swollen it's almost painful; he's rutting into the carpet like a teenager, the seam on his jeans not nearly providing enough friction.  

The pleasure is coursing through your veins, throbbing inside your stomach and thighs as you take what you need, fingers pulling hard at his hair. 

The moan that rips from your chest when Eddie pushes two fingers into your soaking wet cunt is pornographic, long and loud. He curls them upward, stroking incessantly at your g spot and spots appear in your vision. The last coherent thought you have is, fuck he really knows what he's doing. 

"Eddie!" 

You come with a strangled scream of his name, then it's all just white light and searing ecstasy as you ride out your orgasm. Your pulse and the feel of Eddie's hair taut in your fingers are the only things keeping you on planet Earth. 

Eddie just about holds it together, fingers working you through your release. You screamed his name. He almost came in his pants right then and there. The sound of you screaming his name is now a new core memory. He's sure he will replay it in his head many times with his fist on his cock.

Your back finally touching the carpet again, you tear Eddie's head away from your pussy and coax him none too gently upward. He hovers over your mouth, a little worried about kissing you when his face is covered with your release, but that worry turns into shock when you push his head forcefully towards yours and slip your tongue in his mouth. 

You can't help but moan at the taste of yourself in his mouth. The moan sounds low in your throat, buzzing into Eddie's mouth so low he feels it in his dick. Seems you weren't lying when you said mommy is dirty too. 

Suddenly Eddie's world turns sideways as you flip him onto his back, pushing his thighs apart with your knee. His scent, the feel of his skin, it's intoxicating. Before you realise what you're doing, you're sucking a love bite into the side of his neck, hard. 

Mine. 

Trailing lips and manicured nails down his torso, you pause at the fly of his jeans. You look up at him through your lashes. 

"This OK Eddie?" 

"Erm… oh God yes?" 

You giggle girlishly, flicking the button of his jeans undone and unzipping the fly gently. Relishing in the moment, you guide him to lift his hips and pull his jeans and boxers down slowly, unwrapping him like a gift.  

And what a fucking gift. 

As you pull his jeans and underwear down to his knees, his hardened cock springs out, coming to rest on his abdomen. It's big, the biggest you think you've seen in real life. Blushing a pretty pink at the tip, a pearl of pre cum sits on the slit at the top. 

Eddie takes your stillness as judgement, he can't help but fill in the silence. 

"Sorry, it's er, it's not like, impressive or anything- oh fuck" 

His apologies are interrupted when you take the tip in your mouth, sucking up the pre cum that glistens there. You roll the tip around your mouth, amazed at the fact he tastes so good. 

Breaking away with a pop, you reply, looking at him as you fist his length slowly with one hand. 

"Eddie, you're really, really big." 

"Really?" He doesn't look convinced, leaning up on his elbows to look at you. 

"Really. You're huge Eddie." 

"Yeah?" An edge of disbelief coats his voice, but he's smiling. 

"Biggest I've seen." 

Eddie's smile is damn near splitting his face in half. 

"So, could I get that in writing or- Jesus fuckin' Christ!" 

You take him in your mouth again, fitting as much as you can, fisting the rest in your hand. The groans and whimpers coming from Eddie's mouth are downright obscene. The wetter you get him, the louder he gets, so you dribble purposely all over your fist, letting it drip down to his balls. 

Eddie's eyes keep trying to roll back but he won't let them, he refuses. He needs to see this, to see you. The slick sounds your hand and mouth are creating are making him fizz from the inside out, each movement is making him want to blow his load in that perfect practised mouth. 

Sammy's mom is sucking my fucking dick dry. 

He's trying to get his head around this impossible situation but it's so outlandish he wants to laugh. Or cry. Or scream. He settles on moaning, hand resting on the back of your head, stroking encouraging circles. 

"Fuck, you're- you're too good at this, holy shit!" 

Relinquishing his length with a sodden wet noise, you fist his length, running your thumb over his tip and lapping at his balls. Taking one in your mouth and playfully sucking, he nearly busts right then and there. 

"OK sweetheart, I-I can't hold back if you, fuck, if you d-do that-" 

You finally unhand him with a cheeky smile and straddle him, your underwear the only barrier between your sex and his throbbing length. 

"You OK there champ?" You ask, a mischievous grin plastered all over your face as you drag your perfect nails down his chest. 

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I-" Eddie grabs your hand, stopping you in your tracks, "Please give me a minute, please." 

Eddie's eyes are big, wide and wet. Almost like a lost puppy. You're torn between wanting to hold him close, look after him, and fucking him hard until he cries. 

Suddenly he looks concerned, eyes growing impossibly wider. 

"I don't have, a-a condom or anything-" 

You chuckle lowly, bringing his hand to your lips, kissing softly at his knuckles. 

"Eddie, baby, I had my tubes tied years ago. It's OK. If it's OK with you?" 

Holy shit. Sammy's mom wants to ride me raw. Jesus Christ. 

His head is spinning; he realises he's nodding so hard he may have whiplash. You smirk at his response, the rigorous nodding and wide eyed look is just doing something to your insides; twisting them up, making you hungry. 

Maybe that's why you do what you do. You wink at him, and swing your leg over, pushing your underwear to the side once again. Though this time, you're straddling him backwards, round ass on display as you tease the head of his cock with your soaking wet lips. 

As you sink down onto him, you hear the guttural moan that strikes out from his soul almost, travelling swiftly to your core. He's big, you weren't lying. You feel each vein, each ridge, as you seat yourself fully onto his cock. 

This boy has no idea what he's packing. 

Jesus Christ, the spots this impressive length can reach are unreal. You bounce on him slowly, revelling in the stretch. He's throbbing underneath you, inside you. The sensation makes you moan wantonly, feeling sexier than you've felt in years. 

Eddie's mesmerised by your ass, watching it bounce on his dick, drooling at the shake of it when it plunges back down. His eyes are drawn to your tight hole, half hidden by the pricey underwear that still adorns you. Just a tiny slip of lace hugged in your ass cheeks. 

He's already pushed his luck; he's well aware of that fact. The arousal pumping through him has him throwing caution to the wind however, so he sucks his thumb, getting it nice and wet, and pushes it against your asshole.

It surprises you, sure, but you're moaning louder at his bold move. 

Eddie's reeling, dizzy at your reaction. He was expecting at least for you to just slap his hand away, but if anything you speed up and make even more noise. Fuck, if you could get more perfect, you just did. He pushes his digit in, feeling you clench around it, riding him for all he's worth. 

"Oh fuck, Eddie!" 

It's too much for you to take, being filled in both holes, riding him hard and fast until your vision is blurring and spots are in your eyes. Your release startles you, a fuzzy feeling filling you up from the inside out and exploding from your cunt in a gush. 

Reality seeps in as you come down from your high; pain in your knees searing up your leg. 

"Sweetheart, I need to get on top, please." 

It's a relief you're not prepared to admit to as you climb off, legs twitching and knackered. 

Near collapsing on the floor, Eddie's on you, falling in his excitement. He's forgotten his jeans are still woven around his ankles. He kicks them off and slides between your spread legs. 

"Can I take your panties off now sweetheart?" 

What he's not saying, is he really doesn't want to miss what might be the only time he gets to see you naked. You oblige, lifting up your hips so he can wrestle the sodden garment off you. 

As if you can hear his prayers, you unhook your bra too, flinging it toward the couch. Eddie's nearly having a heart attack; it's hammering hard in his chest, the only thing stopping it from bursting out is his ribcage. The sight of you, nude, beneath him? It's unravelling him in a way he didn't know was possible. 

So he loses it for a moment, burying his head in the valley of your breasts, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it. Your nipples stand to attention at his ministrations, yet your core hums at the lack of attention. 

"Eddie, please, I need you inside me." 

Fuck this is unreal. She's so beautiful and she's begging for me. Feels like a dream. 

But it's not a dream. He's pressing his quivering length against you again and your pussy is swallowing him up as if it's hungry for him. 

You let him in, his hard member spearing you, humping into you hard and rough. You groan against him, fingernails finding leverage in his broad shoulders. 

His arms hook under your sweaty knees, pulling them hard against your torso, angling himself to fuck into you mercilessly. 

"Fuck, you feel- so fuckin' good" He stammers out, slamming his hips into you. 

You're beyond words, screaming his name like it's the only word you know. 

"You gonna come again? Please, fuck, please come, I need it, I need it baby please" His babbling words fire out at you, driving you ceaselessly to another orgasm. 

Fingers wind between your heaving forms, running urgent circles over your clit. They slip and slide against your sodden nub, desperately seeking to get you to that precipice. You moan, and moan, and finally clench and scream his name, voice hard, burning in your throat.

Eddie can't take it, not the way your cunt is grabbing onto him so tightly, constricting his dick as if it's afraid he'll leave. He stutters his hips and grunts his own release deep into you. 

For a minute he doesn't stop, He refuses to stop. He doesn't want it to be over. So, he fucks his cum into you until it's impossible to continue and finally comes up for air. 

You envelop his lips into a suffocating kiss, swollen lips and tongue and spit. Messy and passionate, he returns it, glad that you still want to kiss him at the end of all things. 

Though, you don't want it to be over. His touch, his feel, his taste, you could soak it up, roll around in it forever, wrap yourself in his arms and stay. A mad thought. A maddening thought. 

Eddie slips from inside you making you frown at the loss. His smile is soaked in mischief however, as he starts to kiss down your front again, burying his head in the deep valley of your breasts, tongue lathering over the supple flesh and moving downwards. 

He's never, ever, felt the need to taste himself on another. As a matter of fact, if you had told him yesterday he would feel the desperate urge to press his tongue into a pussy that is dripping with his own cum he would have laughed in your face. But, this is your pussy. Your tight wet cunt, and he needs to taste it. He needs it like he needs air to breathe. For a second he stares up at you with big soulful eyes. 

"I wanna taste what we made." 

His words are shooting into the pulse spilling from your core.

"Really?" Your words drip in perplexity, amazed that any man would want that, but the thought lingers, making you realise that you want that. 

No further time wasted, he dives into your dripping core, tongue dragging through your aching lips. For a moment it's too much, until it drops into pleasure; pleasure that you sink into, melting under his touch. 

Eddie laps furiously at your clit, both of your releases dripping from his chin. He sinks thick fingers inside, squelching into your soft heat. 

Wordlessly, he takes his fingers out and reaches them up to your face. His eyes are trained on you, flat of his tongue rubbing against your swollen nub. 

Hesitantly, you take in the sight of his sticky fingers, before you take them into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks. The taste is indescribable; it's salty, sweet, tangy, each separate flavour hitting your tongue differently, fuelling your desires.

You're making Eddie's dreams come true with that gesture. Your trust in him, your filthiness, the way your tongue works against his fingers, it's all shooting to his heart, and his cock. He's impossibly hard again, groaning into your cunt. 

Another release is speeding toward you. You can feel yourself hurtling towards it, free falling into ecstasy. You grip around his wrist, fingers digging bruises into the tendons as your orgasm rushes out of you in a string of curse words. 

He moves back up your body and you envelop his slicked lips in a firm kiss. To your surprise, you can feel his hard member digging into your thigh. It's been a long time since you've been with anyone who couldn't go more than one round before rolling over and falling asleep. The joys of youth. 

"You OK Eddie?" You ask between breath-taking kisses. 

"OK? I'm fucking amazing sweetheart. Feel like I just won the lottery or something" He huffs a laugh, nudging the tip of his nose with yours. 

"You, erm-" you begin, feeling almost embarrassed, "-you wanna go again?" 

"Oh hell yeah." 

His tip is already begging at your entrance but you place a firm hand to his chest, stilling his movements. 

"Eddie, upstairs? My back is killing me." You admit it, the hard floor giving you aches and pains. 

"Fuck, yeah, sorry. Come on" practically leaping up, he holds out his hand to you and you grasp it in yours. You giggle at his eagerness, the sight of him stark naked leaping up the stairs three at a time stoking your amusement. 

This might be inappropriate, it might be a bit wrong, but damn, this is fun. Having someone desire you so much, who wants to fuck you over and over? Morals can kick in tomorrow. Tonight, you have a gorgeous young man aching to give you more. 

********************

"Hey, you still here?" 

You look up, distracted from your musings of last night. God, that boy had some stamina. 

"Huh?" 

"Wow, that date must have been good! You going to spill? Come on, tell me about it!" 

Blushing, you sip the glass of wine in front of you. Karen Wheeler had popped round unannounced with a bottle and you were sitting around your kitchen table whilst she grilled you about why you were smiling so much. She would lose her shit if she knew who you were smiling about. 

"I mean, I can't really talk about it." You mumble around your glass. 

"Oh God, why? Oh, he's married, I bet he's married! You naughty thing!" Her words are admonishing, but her cheeks are glowing. She's loving every minute of this. 

Why not? At least that would explain it away. 

"Yeah, he's married." 

"Oh my you're terrible!" She cackles, laughing. "How was he?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about Karen." 

"Oh, come on you're practically glowing! I know that look" She says, nodding sagely. 

"OK, look" You say, taking a gulp of wine for composure and a deep breath before it rushes out of your mouth in a torrid whisper. 

"It was fucking incredible, like toe curling incredible, you know? And he just kept going, I mean, honestly? The best I've ever had." 

Karen coughs and nods pointedly behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you see him. 

Eddie. Fuck. 

He's standing there nonchalantly, leaning on the doorframe with a Cheshire cat grin. 

"Sorry for the interruption, just grabbing a couple beers." 

He bounces into the kitchen and fetches two beers from the fridge. 

"Me and Sammy are just working on the campaign. I'll er, leave you ladies to it." 

He practically skips out the room, leaving you red faced. 

"That Eddie?" You nod, face red as a beetroot. 

"He's grown up, hasn't he?" 

You steer away from this line of questioning, mortified that he heard what you said. 

"Only on the outside. You want a top up?" She agrees with a grin as you fill her glass up and she regales you with all the poolside gossip. When the bottle is done, she leaves with a wink, saying she'll keep your secret. If she only knew what that was. 

Eddie's on cloud nine right now, bouncing up the stairs three at a time. 

The best she's ever had. The best she's ever had. 

It's in his mind, playing in a loop. His mantra, a quote that will live deep in his chest from now until forever after. 

The best she's ever had. 

He flings the door open and flounces into Sammy's room, banging a beer down on the bedside table. 

"A beverage for you, good fellow!" 

"Aha! Fine work m'lord!" Sammy twists the cap off, tossing it in the bin. Eddie does the same, twisting to face the waste paper basket, and takes a long swig. 

"Eddie you dirty fuck." 

He freezes, ice pouring down his spine. Spinning on his heel, he turns to face Sammy.

"What are you on about?" He asks, a fake smile masking the fear that had bottomed out in his stomach. 

"I see the panties you've got in your back pocket, red ones. They're poking out! Dude, did you get lucky last night?" Sammy smirks, swigging his own beer.

He couldn't help himself. He swiped them when he was leaving. They were still wet, soaked with a mixture of his spit and your release. He'd sniffed them and got himself off twice this morning. 

Chill out. Sammy's grinning. He's got no clue who they belong to. 

Eddie relaxes and grins smugly back, laying on the floor, his back against the bed. 

"Oh, you have no idea." 

********************

Humming to yourself, you sort through the dirty clothes in the laundry room, separating darks and lights. 

Your thoughts drift yet again to that messy haired rocker. His large hands, his tight torso, his dick. Fuck, his dick. 

Shaking your head, you do what you can to rid your brain of your salacious thoughts, loading the washer a little more forcefully than you necessarily needed to. 

You hear the unmistakable click of the door behind you. Not bothering to turn, you huff as you shut the washer lid with a bang. 

"I swear to God Sammy if you need a shirt for tonight I've already-" 

"Hey sweetheart." 

Flipping to face the door, there he is. Arms folded across his slender chest, smug smirk spread stickly across his features, he stares at you. 

"Eddie, you need to leave." 

Your tone is stern, but your bottom lip disappears into your mouth, being nibbled at by your teeth. 

"You sure? Thought you might wanna see me. You know, since I'm the best you ever had." 

"Eddie shut the fuck up!" You hiss between your teeth, eyes flashing to the door. 

"Sweetheart, Sammy's fallen asleep. He had a long night. You know what that's like." 

"Eddie, that was a one time thing. God, it's not like this can go anywhere, so why are you here?" 

Tapping your foot impatiently, he closes the gap between you, cornering you between the wall and the washing machine. 

You want to be angry; to push him away and leave, but the pounding of your pulse between your legs betrays you. 

As if he knows, he slots his leg between yours, denim clad thigh hovering near your throbbing heat, pushing your sundress up in the process. 

"I know. Fuck, I'm well aware. I just wanna- help you out. Like, an arrangement" He smiles, knuckles reaching up to stroke your cheek. 

"Eddie-" 

Before you manage to form words, he's on his knees in front of you, large palms running over your bare thighs. 

"Please." 

That's all he says, wet doe eyes wide, gleaming up at you as if you were some sort of goddess and he was kneeling at your altar. 

Eddie's begging to the old Gods and the new; fuck it, to anyone who might be listening. He wants you, with everything he has. Each fibre is burning for you. He thought it might go away after last night, but it was simply a taste. A drop of water doesn't quench an undying thirst. 

This little sundress is doing nothing to sate his hunger for you. The flimsy material clings in all the right places, forcing his eyes to trail over your curves like a man starved. 

Without a thought in your head, you wind your fingers into Eddie's hair, relishing the feel of his hot breath on your naked thighs. Guiding his head forward, you shudder as his lips trace across your flesh. 

Eddie lifts your dress up, reaching desperately to pull your panties off and away before you change your mind. Slick sticking to them, he pulls them down, watching as they gradually peel from your core. 

He sits on his heels, eyes flitting from your eyes to your cunt. 

"Sweetheart, please. I just wanna- I wanna help you with your needs. Fuck, with my needs." 

Nodding emphatically, you tug at his hair, drawing him in. 

Eddie counts his blessings and dives straight at your pussy, lapping between the folds just like you taught him. 

"Oh God" you moan aloud, then bite at your hand to stop your noises. Flicking one leg over his shoulder, you force his head as close as you can, nearly riding his face. 

If anything, Eddie is a quick learner, at least when it comes to you. 

His tongue is electric, hitting all of the right spots. He feels your cunt on his tongue, leaving hot and heavy licks. Running his hand up your thigh again, he presses his thumb against your clenching hole, wiggling into your slick drenched pussy. 

"Eddie, yes!" You whisper, fingers pulling at his curls incessantly. Eyes rolling back, you rut your hips into him, on the brink of falling apart.

White hot light sears your eyelids as you  come with a stifled cry, cunt undulating around his thick digit. 

"Fuckfuckfuck!" 

Yanking his head away from you by the roots of his hair, you cannot fail to hear the unmistakable moan that spills from his lips. 

Eddie's staring up at you dumbfounded, as if you created the universe just for him. 

Panting, you stare back down at him, his lips parted and shining with your orgasm. 

"Eddie, holy hell." 

He stands, wiping the slick from his face with the back of his hand, though it does nothing to remove the grin. 

Against every better judgement, you grab him by the shirt and pull him closer, lips nearly touching. 

"You- you can't tell anyone about this, OK? Not a soul, understood?" 

If it were possible, his grin grows even wider, palm resting at your waist. 

"I can be discreet." He whispers as he presses his lips to yours. Winding fingers into his hair, you deepen the kiss, tongue moving expertly between his parted lips to taste him, and you. 

Eddie pulls away reluctantly. 

"I better go." 

As he moves to the door, hand hovering over the handle, you call out to him. 

"Eddie, wait." 

Turning his head, he looks at you. 

"Sammy's seeing Tiff again tonight, and er, Johnny's still at his grandma's." 

"Good to know." He winks and leaves. What you don't know is that he does a mini victory dance once the door is shut, fists pumping in the air with sheer joy. 

He doesn't know how long this is going to last, but he'll take every single second he can get with you whilst you let him. 

Taglist (just some likely candidates ;) )

@cursedyuta @eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @emsgoodthinkin @josephquinnsfreckles @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eiightysixbaby @lightvixxen @ali-r3n @usedtobecooler @roanniom

[emeritusemeritus]

Hear me out! Possessive sex + Overstimulation + Brat Taming + Breeding. Both of the Weasley Twins please. 🤭

I just always have this thought of just teasing the shit out of them when they’re work and fleeing afterwards. It’s almost as if we took their job of teasing us, and I could just imagine how pent up and frustrated they can be when they can’t do anything since there’s kids and adults around. The joke shop is suppose to be an appropriate place especially when it’s meant mainly for kids..Perhaps, add a part where we purposefully flirt with one of our old classmates. You can choose who! If you don’t like this idea, I completely understand! Feel free to add some kinks if you like or story elements. 🫶

Hi Anon! I’m so sorry it has taken so long to get this out, writing has had to be on the back-burner for now but I’m slowly getting back! Sorry for the lack of smut, it’s more of the setup as I’m abit smutted out 🖤

Warnings: Sexual tension, brat behaviour, Dom!sub relationships, polyamory, teasing, sexual references, mild swearing. Flirting, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding kink.

Word count: 2.5k

Wonder Witch

You knew what you were getting into the second you opened up your wardrobe and changed into the outfit you'd carefully prepared for today. Your husbands had already long since departed the flat to set up the shop for the day, leaving you just a little later to sleep in, which you were thankful for.

Today was the big launch of new wonder witch products that the twins had been tirelessly working on, perfecting the range ready for the big launch today. You'd helped with ordering violently pink balloons to decorate every orifice of the shop, had banners printed and had even managed to convince Madame Puddifoot's to make some limited edition iced biscuits for the celebration, all in the same sickening shade of pink.

The icing on the cake was the costume that you'd picked out ready to hand out and display the new items, recreating the wonder witch icon on the packaging.

The dress in itself wasn't too risky, an array of pink and gold overlapping fabric that fell just above your knee, with a pointed witches hat in a smilies style. But it also had exposed shoulders with dropped sleeves and a corseted middle which hoisted in your waist to create a rather dramatic shape, highlighting your hips in a way that you knew would drive your husbands crazy. You carefully curled your hair and applied a healthy dose of mascara to really make your eyes pop before applying an equally vibrant lipsticks that you'd found matched the colour of wonder witch perfectly. You added a little highlighter around your cheeks to give you a little bit more of a playful look and slipped on your shoes to really help bring the look together.

When you looked in the mirror, you were more than pleased with yourself. You looked hot.

Checking the clock, you saw that it was 8:53am, just in time for the store to open. You could hear the twins flapping, mainly George, the moment you opened the door towards the staircase. They were bustling ready for the big opening and the unsurprising lack of Verity meant that she was probably going to be late again.

"Angel can you put these products on the... shit." George says the second you walk down the stairs, noticing the outfit almost immediately.

"What's up with you?" Fred asks, walking over to George under the staircase until he comes into full view, noticing that his twin seems to be frozen on the spot. He turns, looking towards the direction George seems frozen at and you watch as his eyes widen also comically wide. "Holy Godric."

"Morning," you say cheerfully, leaning up to press a kiss to George's cheek before doing the same to Fred as they look at you in complete shock, mouths slightly parted. "Where do you want me?"

"Um," George says, clearing his throat though his eyes hardly move from the curve of your breasts, a prominent feature of your dress. You fight the urge to laugh, wanting to keep up your little innocent play, pretending that you had no idea why they were looking at you like that.

"You want these on the shelf?" You ask, batting your eyelashes at them, watching as Fred's tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

The little clock on the wall chimes, signalling the store opening, just as you bend down to grab the box of products and you look up with pouting lips, watching as the twins hardly react to the chimes.

"You gonna unlock the doors big boy?" You ask Fred with a singular raised eyebrows, noticing how he doesn't even attempt to pull out his wand. A frantic knock on the doors pulls him out of his thoughts and you all turn to see Verity knocking to be let it, surrounded by a large crowd of customers ready to shop the new products. You flash a little wink at George as Fred unlocks the doors with a flick of his wand, the fireworks and the tricks beginning all in perfect synchronisation. When you look back up after picking up the box of products and see your two men still staring at you, completely unaware of the swarm of customers bursting through the doors, you knew today was going to be fun.

The store was packed right from opening, a never-ending swarm of people crossing through the doors until the shop was almost too full of people, all wanting to get their hands on the new merchandise. It was an overwhelming success, the new line of wonder witch products and cosmetics and you were thankful, fortunate and insanely proud of your husbands for pulling off the ideas you'd created together. You should have been tired, drained from the day as it neared closing time but truthfully you were on an adrenaline high, on cloud nine from teasing your husbands all day and seeing their increasing desperation.

All day you'd made sure to be a little bit of a brat, an utter tease whilst trying to portray yourself as an innocent Angel- something you knew for a fact that they didn't believe in the slightest.

George was easier to rile up, always quicker to respond to your more subtle teasing. You'd brushed past him a number of times today, the packed shop only aiding your need to slowly brush your ass against the front of his trousers as you squeezed past him or to pass something up to Verity on the stairs, ensuring that he got a face full of cleavage as you stretched up. You'd caught him staring at you more times today than you could count on all your extremities, especially when you climbed the stairs above him, ensuring that he knew your bare thighs were right above him.

Fred didn't always respond to subtlety, so you knew your efforts had to be boosted when it came to him. You'd purposely licked and sucked at one of the dark mark lollipops in the most outrageous way whenever he was paying attention and you'd even heard him choke on his own spit when he noticed.

You knew you had him when you were explaining to a group of seventh year girls about the patented daydream charms and how how they worked, passing out the colourful boxes items around the group as they accepted them with eager and curious eyes.

"Up to thirty minutes of pure, blissful imagination; let me tell you it will create a very realistic daydream of your choice so you know that boy you're crushing on? You're going to have the best thirty minutes of your life."

You're met with a round of playful giggles as you smile at them, knowing you were in for a good sale.

"Have you used it?" One of the girls asks and you nod eagerly with a smirk, knowing that Fred was just behind you from the way you could feel his presence, hearing him talk only moments before.

"Not since I married him," you say with a smirk as you receive another round of girlish giggles. "Between us, those thirty minutes with Fred were some of my most imaginative creations, believe me these little things are special," you say, twisting the box in your hands. "Just don't tell George." You watch as the girls' eyes light up and they quickly shove them in their baskets. You turn then, catching Fred's eye as he pretends not to have been listening and you act as if you're bashful about what he might have heard, placing a strand of hair nervously behind your ear as you walk away, making sure to sway your hips ever so slightly, knowing he'd be watching.

By lunchtime, you'd effortlessly riled them up to a point that it was so painfully obvious what they were trying to hide that you found yourself biting back a smirk for most of the day. They were so easily and deeply affected that it was rather fun to watch, but none more so than when Dean Thomas came into the shop just after the dinner time rush. You'd taken a quick break and had reapplied your lipstick, carefully checking you appearance before you walked down the stairs back to work. Dean had been talking to both of your lives near the stairs when he spotted you, eyes briefly widening as he took in your appearance. Unfortunately for him, Fred had been mid sentence and had definitely noticed Dean checking you out, making his go silent and cause a thunderous look to cross his face.

"Y/n, hi! It's good to see you!" Dean smiles as you approach them all, careful to avoid looking at the faces of your husbands who had now both caught on to Dean's over-pleasant demeanour.

"Dean, good to see you too!"

"You look good! Who knew that y/n (*maiden name) would become wonder witch!" His hands gesture towards your outfit and then to the display of new products to the side with your likeness on.

"It's Weasley," both twins said a little too quickly, in perfect synchronisation, making you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh spilling out at their obvious jealously.

"Of course," Dean says somewhat absently, not picking up on the sudden hostility aimed at him by the shop-owners. "So what have you been up to? Do you see the others much?"

"Didn't ask us this many questions," you hear George mumble under his breath to Fred, who has crossed his arms across his chest and is hardly blinking, watching Dean closely.

"The usual," you smile, shooting a fleeting glance at your two husbands who's red faces seem to match their hair. "Keeping these two in line, keeping the shop afloat," you joke.

"So no little Weasley's running about yet?"

You could almost sense the little eye twitch George did at the words and you were certain that Fred seemed to stand even straighter, making himself even taller to tower over Dean.

"Hopefully soon," you say, biting your lip and George's eyes flicker to you with a fire in them, your words affecting him more easily than you'd anticipated. Fred seemed to incidentally lose his footing and was knocked off balance for a second, breaking the rather playful mood that had settled between you and Dean.

After Dean had left with a few things he'd come for, you finally accepted your fate and let the veil slip enough to drop the innocent act you'd been playing all day. Fred had cornered you beside the till, a stolen moment of peace as you reached high up to re-stock the daydreams, flashing him with a glimpse of your stocking.

"Really Freddie?" You pretended to admonish as you felt his rather prominent evidence of arousal against your hip as he started to get grabby with you, nearing the end of his restraint. "This is a respected establishment Mr Weasley, there are children about!"

You shuffled past him with a little tut, hiding your smirk behind your hair, leaving him stranded with mouth agape at your sudden boldness. George wasn't faring much better, his eyes still fixed on the curve of your breasts whenever he caught a glimpse, silently watching you rile him up further and further as your act slipped away.

With one last attempt at completely flipping the switch inside of them, throwing them over the metaphorical cliff, you doubled down your efforts. It was nearly closing time and you walked slyly over to the cash register whilst George was cashing up for the night and began stretching, pointing out your chest and making some very questionable noises. You adjusted the little cold shoulder straps on your dress and readjusted your breasts in the dress, sensing your attentive audience of George who was close by and Fred who had stopped what he was doing to watch you from across the shop. You suddenly turned and walked behind George, placing your hand on his hip as you squeezed past to reach for a carrier bag, carefully dragging your hand over his lower back as you leaned down. When you began to turn and walk away, you felt a large hand shoot out and grab your wrist.

“Angel.”

His tone was clear and clipped, telling you everything you needed to do.

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” he says, moving to stand behind you in the near empty shop, an obvious erection pressing into your behind. “Keep going little brat, you’re only fuelling the fire.”

When he lets you go and turns back to his task with no other reaction, you knew it was time to slip away. You rushed up the stairs, carefully avoiding both of them, ready for the next step of the plan. You’d prepped dinner on your lunch break, wanting to get ahead for the night and flicked the oven on with a flick of your wand as soon as you made it upstairs. You kicked off your shoes, pulled off your panties and waited, busying yourself to ward off the desperate arousal you were feeling, anticipating a good but long night ahead.

As soon as you heard the familiar, incoming footsteps on the landing, you bent over in your skirt to slip the pie into the oven, giving them quite a show when they walked in.

“Fucking Godric,” you heard Fred exclaim when he stepped through the door, followed by a similar curse only moments later by his twin as they see your pussy on full display for them, peeking out from below the short skirt as you bend over.

“Princess,” he says, beginning to stalk over to you as you pulled yourself up, closing the oven. You looked at them innocently, big doe-eyes and fluttering lashes as you watched them darkly approach you.

“You were naughty today,” George says, his hand reaching out to cup the back of your neck as he pulls you into a devastatingly sinful kiss that immediately makes your nipples harden under the dress. You gasp into his mouth when you suddenly feel a hand creeping up your inner thigh, underneath your dress.

“Remember what you said to Dean, princess?” Fred asks, voice dangerously low, prompting you to nod whilst trying to catch your breath. You knew exactly what you’d said, what you’d hoped for.

“Reckon we should start now?” He asks, his hand ghosting over the curve of your ass, feeling the bare flesh underneath his fingers. “Want you knocked up right fucking now.”

“Agreed,” George adds, somehow looking and sounding ever darker and more determined than Fred. George suddenly reaches out and turns off the oven with a harsh flick of his wrist, smirking when you look up at him in confusion at him turning off the oven.

“We’re not gonna be done with you that soon,” he says with a devilish smirk. “Gonna cum in you over and over, taking turns filling you. There’s gonna be so much cum in you that you won’t know where you start and we end, get you all round from us. Now.”

“Get on the bed.”

[frnkiebby]

Frnkiebby’s FellowWhore Appreciation Day(week) Installment Number One:

(if you have criticism, it’s welcome. but keep it constructive. my life motto is ‘arson is the answer’ for a reason)

You didn’t realize that Frank was no longer at your side until you turned your head to ask him a question.

“I— Frank??”

When you turned to look behind you, you saw him looking into the window of the new shop that had opened the previous week. Smiling to yourself, you walked back to him, scuffing your feet against the cement to catch his attention.

“When did this get here?” he asks, almost offended that he didn’t notice.

“Like….maybe opened a week ago or so?” you made a face and shrugged.

Frank just gapes at you. The look of incredulity on his face breaks any sort of commitment to being serious with him. It’s almost as if once you start laughing you just can’t stop. You’ve never seen a grown man in his 30’s get so miffed over not being told about a new vintage record shop opening up in a town that had at least five other record shops in the vicinity.

“Well you could’ve told me.”

“Is that my job?” you ask. Frank narrows his eyes at you and you have to try even harder to not start laughing again.

“Maybe it fuckin’ should be” he grumbles.

Before you can think of a quip back, he turns and pulls the door, frowning when it doesn’t open. You put your hand over your mouth and just watch the scene unfold. Frank looks to the open sign on the door and back to the handle, pulling again.

“I—“

“Frankie. Baby. See that sign? ‘push’? You’ve gotta push the door open.”

You make a pushing motion when his head whips around to snark something in response. Likely to tell you that you’re wrong. That is until the door swings open and Frank nearly tumbles into the shop owner.

“Oh! Sorry about that young man! I thought maybe the door was stuck again….you do know this is a push door right? Did I make that sign big enough? I’m so sorry!”

The sound of your hand flying to cover your mouth is loud enough that it causes the older gentleman to look at you in confusion.

“No! No, Sir the sign is perfect, your store is perfect! He was just so excited about looking around that I think he just wasn’t paying attention.”

If looks could kill, you would have been dead seven times over with the one playing across Frank’s face. You simply smiled at him and threaded your fingers with his, holding his hand and smiling innocently up at the store owner.

“Well isn’t that sweet! I love seeing such young people taking an interest in older forms of media! Come in, come in!!”

The old man ushered the two of you in and flapped his hands at the numerous stacks and rows of vinyls before promising not to hover and retreating back to his stool behind the counter.

“he does know we’re in our 30’s….right??” Frank asks, leaning over to whisper while eying the owner with mild concern.

“Frank stop. Let the poor guy be excited about such young people taking an interest in older forms of media” you swatted his hand out of yours and nudged him toward the closest row “now go look for more records to add to your hoard.”

He rolled his eyes at you but it didn’t stop the smile that slowly grew on his face. The afternoon progressed in fits of giggles, bargaining between which record to add to your arms, and a very pleased old man thanking the two of you for an eventful time.

[wwwcapricorncom]

I Heard Something Outside!| Friday The 13th

Starring: Izuku Midoriya x POC Fem 

Warnings: Exhibitionism ft. Established relationship, Oral (F!Receiving), a shit ton of praise, uses of ‘pretty girl’, good girl’, needy girl’, ‘desperate’, ‘naughty’, ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘daddy’, voyeurism, noncon watching at first, semi public & unprotected s3x, Izuku = soft dom here, squirting. 18+, Minors DNI. 

Summary: You swear there’s something outside the tent you share with your boyfriend!

Kinktober 2023 Schedule | Next Story In Kinktober Series

Be kind, I'm rusty.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The flap to the tent unzipping is the first noise that you register, the high pitched buzzes of the talking cicadas are next. The fire burning outside briefly illuminates your face as your boyfriend ducks inside. 

Immediately you put your arms up, making grabbing gestures towards him with your eyes still closed. He hums, laying on your chest and snuggling his face into you while you wrap your arms around his head. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you, baby.” Izuku mumbles, nuzzling his face against your breasts. 

You throw your leg over his large back and sigh, pressing him closer to you, “I missed you anyways,” his hands start to rub at your sides. Large, calloused hands sneakily bunching his oversized shirt farther up your skin to expose your legs, hips, and lower sides.  

“I missed you too.” He presses his lips to a clothed nipple and you giggle, “I can feel it”. His large length is pressing against your leg, nice and hard for you. 

“The boys finally left,” he starts whilst pushing the shirt above your stomach, “Denki and Hanta are smoking and I think Ejirou and Katsuki might be at the lake.” 

His hot mouth is against your belly now, pressing soft kisses into your skin even grazing his teeth every now and again as he continues downward. 

“How much time do you think we have, Zuzu?” He is sucking at the flesh below your belly button, large hand tugging your underwear down before he answers. “Enough time for me to taste you and bury my cock inside.” 

You two haven’t had any alone time all day and it seems you’re not the only one feeling the withdrawals. You wonder if his friends' constant teasing adds to this. You never knew that they teased him like they did about you, making snarky remarks like could he even handle such a sexy woman like yourself. If you two even do anything sexual or if you’re the top. 

All kinds of assumptions you never thought they would have of your baby who takes any chance he gets to bury his fingers, tongue, and cock inside you. Your baby who knows how to give until you’re crying. 

“How bad do you want it?” He asks as he thumbs at your puffy clit, sucking purple marks into your inner thighs until you’re clenching his hair. 

“Need it ‘Zu.” You mumble, spreading your legs wider to coax his tongue closer. 

“My needy baby.” He coos, kissing your clit which makes your back arch off of the sleeping bag on the tent floor. He inhales deeply before diving in, his large hands are fixed firmly on the backs of your thighs. They’re in his favorite spot because with ease he can spread you open for his tongue. 

You moan when he starts from just above your ass, licking straight up until he gets to your clit where he encloses his hot lips around the perked nub. He is sucking hard while flicking his tongue quickly which makes you squirm, legs closing around his head.  

“Already, baby? C'mon let me in.” He coos against your pussy lips, giving the entirety of your core kisses before pushing your legs further back. 

“I’m so turned on, fuck!” You mumble and he hums, circling his tongue around your entrance. He knows just how much you love doing sexual activities in new places. Your senses are probably in overdrive right now being in the middle of the woods. 

Oh and they are. This is why through the blankets of pleasure and raunchy slurping, you hear a twig snap. You freeze, “Izuku, I heard something.” You whine and he groans into your mound, tongue not stopping his onslaught. 

“Please baby c-check.” You moan and he hums slowly detaching his lips from your cunny. He sits up, face pink and jaw wet, before unzipping some of the tent flap. The rush of air that pushes inside attempts to eat at your overheated bodies. 

He pops his head out and looks over the campgrounds that you all set up this morning. Three tents and a bunch of chairs are still around the burning fire that you all made when it started getting dark. He squints just past that to the trees that enclose that campgrounds to make sure an animal or his friends aren’t approaching. Your small foot tickling his ear makes his attention revert back to you, “anything out there?”

“No baby, c’mere.” He doesn’t bother closing the flap up, opting to allow air inside for you two. Instead, he ducks low again, pulling you further down towards his mouth. 

“You barely even looked!,” you giggle which turns into a low moan when he is licking through your folds again. The noise you heard is lost on you, but the four men are more than pissing themselves, having almost just been caught. 

Katsuki sends a death glare at Eijiro who stepped on the twig while the other men punch his arm slightly. Quickly though, everyone’s attention is back on the tent. Your actions are displayed through shadowy silhouettes made by the light in your tent. However, their breaths hitch now that they can see a little slice into your world through the unzipped flap. 

Your cute legs are pressed to your body as he slurps and licks with pressure that has your eyes squeezed shut. You tug on Izuku's hair hard enough that he winces, groaning as he bucks his hips, “ ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that!”

“Yea? You like when I eat you out in the woods? That’s so naughty, baby.” He states, pushing a finger inside your spongy pussy and you’re melting. He wastes no time attacking your g spot and all you can do is nod, ears burning as you prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“Give me a good one, sweetheart, so you can take this cock.” He knows your body all too well, knows just how hard to push his finger against your squishy button to have you seizing. 

Your head lolls back as you feel your orgasm approaching, but Izuku captures it in his hand, keeping you upright so that you’re facing him. The men can hear his lewd encouragements laced with your pants:

“Just like that, cling to my finger just like that.”  

“Fuck, you’re doing great!” 

Then you’re moaning so loudly that all the men's eyes are widening, watching you come all over their friends' fingers. 

Minutes later he is towering over you, swooping to press kisses laced with your slick that he sucked off his fingers to your glowing skin before prompting you to lift your arms up. The men hold their breath when your breasts spill from your shirt, making it harder for them to look away. 

Izuku’s shirt follows fast, pushing his shorts and underwear just below his cock which is twitching with precum. They all hold back a groan when you grab your legs for him, holding them open as he aligns himself with a grin. Praises follow, “good girl, gonna fuck you so good.” 

“Oh my-” You have to bite your lip to shut yourself up because you're too loud. You can never get used to how good Izuku stretches you out. How good he fills you up.  

“Let me fucking hear you.” You’re no stranger to the sweet man’s demands, but the four men are shocked. Especially when he grabs your hips and digs his cock deeper into you, forcing a cry from your mouth. 

He chuckles as if he isn’t stretching your pussy out beyond belief, “there’s your beautiful voice!” 

His thrusts are more desperate than they normally would be in the beginning, fast and deep as he plunges through your velvety walls. His face is flushed and his green tufts are starting to get wet as he loses himself in your soaked pussy. You’re a wet mess, he can literally part you in half with ease and he loves. 

“Zuzu,” you whine and to the men outside it sounds like you’re close, but what do they know about you? Izuku knows that whine, that sexy little perverted whine. 

He bites his lip looking down at you , “you want more don’t you, baby.” You’re nodding vigorously. 

“Yes I want you deeper, baby. I need it.” 

He halts, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss that has you heaving when he departs, “so desperate.” 

He has you flipped over in an instant, so quick to give you what you want. A large hand lands on your hip, squeezing as he takes his cock in hand. You’re still panting from his meticulous manhandling when he pushes that fat mushroom tip into you that has you gasping. 

His other hand lands on your hip and he snaps his hips forward, hard, sending you forward. Your body subconsciously tries to escape the brutal smashing of his fat cock into your cervix. Your hips move forward as he is preparing to thrust back in and he snickers. “C’mere. Why’re you running?” 

He places a hand on your back and you freeze, knowing what’s to come. He’s rough when he presses you down into the ground, he knows you like it like that, pushing his cock deep into you. 

“This is what you wanted right?” You mewl out a feeble ‘yes’ as he kisses the back of sweaty neck, but brings a large hand down against your ass. You yelp out a mantra of ‘yes’s much louder than before. 

Precum spills from his cock and he groans, nodding, “show me then.” 

As if you two have rehearsed this, you perch up on all fours and start to shakily thrust your ass into him. You look back at him, watching as he throws his head back. His pink tongue swipes across his lips as he lets out an accomplished groan. It gives you the encouragement and strength you need to push into him more, sending his cock against your g spot.  

“It’s sooo deep!” Your voice is low and hoarse as you spear yourself on his erect cock. He’s starting to unravel, groping your tits and kissing and biting your shoulder. 

“Fuck, faster sweetheart, FASTER.” He starts to match your thrusts. It sounds like it could be painful the way your thunderous ass comes into contact with the flesh of his pelvis. If not for the shlick sounds omitting from between your legs. The four men can hear it clear as day, you're soaked. 

“Like this daddy?” You seek his approval desperately, launching your ass against him just so he can catch it with his own rough thrusts. It’s impressive how well he handles you, the way he stays upright and calculated against the onslaught of your round cheeks. 

A stuttered whine leaves your mouth as your body freezes, “zukuuuuu! I heard it again!” Your senses are too good for your own sake, the men think as they look at Denki. 

“G-go check?” It comes off unsure like you don’t fully want him to leave. 

He chuckles, not slowly his hips, “but you’re so warm,” You clench around him in response, “you’re so safe right now.” He murmurs against your skin. 

You're keening against him, “ahhh, fuck, thank you daddy!” He places a hand on your shoulder, starting to push against your gspot. You're moaning loudly, spreading your legs more so he can dig even deeper as if he can come out of your mouth. 

Once again the noise is lost on you, but this time Izuku did hear it. Another skill of Izuku’s besides pussy obliterating is his ability to multitask. He never misses a beat, continuing to stuff you and earn moans and sloshes as he eyes outside the flap. 

He can see them now— the four men frozen just beyond the campgrounds, almost obscured by trees and bushes. His hot chest is against your sweaty back in an instant, his lips pressing against your ear. 

Teeth and spit against your ear make you shiver, “ ‘m sorry baby I think the boys are watching out there.” You don’t stop taking his cock in fact you slope your back more. 

“Wanna keep going if you do.” You throw him a doe eyed glance like you’ll follow him to the end of the burning world. It makes his balls twitch as he nods, hoisting you upright which makes you squeal. 

Now you’re both upright on your knees, the men have a full view of your curvaceous body being fucked into. He is a groaning mess now, grunting and slamming into your pussy like a madman. Your breasts bounce sporadically and he places a large hand on the little pouch of your stomach to keep you from running. 

“Fuck, so rough. Izuku!” You whine, but he hushes you with a snap of his hips, cock directed towards you spongy spot and you’re reeling. 

He’s all over you. His arms wrapped so tight around you that you two are basically glued together. His lips kiss and nip at your ear before he shoves his tongue inside like he would when he’s between your legs. All the while his cock never stops grinding against every nook and cranny of your pussy, smashing your squishy spot over and over again. 

“Whose is it?” He asks, knowing it’ll push you right over. 

You’re wailing, “it’s all yours Izuku! Oh god!” 

You’re trembling, eyes glued shut as you start to fall into your orgasm. Expletives leave his mouth as he struggles to pull out of you when you're literally suffocating his cock.Normally he would leave his length inside of you, but this time he pulls out making you whine. Until you feel the pads off his fingers rubbing your clit in tight, fast circles. 

Your eyes fly open and you choke on a moan, clamping your hand to his wrist in an attempt to halt his actions. It’s futile and only lasts mere seconds when he pushes you into a squirting orgasm. 

Tears prick your eyes as you let out a sob, ruining the sleeping bag beneath you with the rush of warm liquid that splatters on your boyfriend too. They’re gasping, they can hear your release as it hits the sleeping bag. If they want a show, then he’ll give them one, he thinks as he pushes his cock back inside you.  

“I’m too sensitive! Izuku!!” You’re a hiccuping mess, “want me to cum outside then?” 

Your head falls against his shoulder, conceding your body to him. “No” You shake your head, tears getting ready to fall, “Don’t spill a drop outside my pussy.” 

He groans, he’s eyes screwing shut as he thanks you, “That’s it, oh fuck, I knew you wanted daddy’s cum.” 

“---can’t even think straight.” You’re crying. He knows how to make you cry so good, wet cheeks as a sign of pure pleasure. Every hair on your body up as he continues to pump and pump and pump. 

You know he is close when his blunt nails dig into your hips, “Here! Here, gonna give it to you so deep!”

And he does. Your body clenches around him like you’re designed for nothing more than to be stuffed with his seed. You don’t know who groans louder, you or him, when he crams every last drop inside of you. 

His head falls into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning your damp skin, “I’m going to take you camping more often, pretty girl.”  

A broken giggle leaves your mouth along with his chuckle before he pulls out. You huff completely spent as you watch him pull up his underwear and shorts before he starts helping you come down from your high and into his shirt. 

“Let’s go wash off in the lake.” 

He makes sure to carry you bridal style with the promise of more aftercare, kissing your skin as he explains that you don’t need your panties. 

The next morning the men are silent. Not one joke about Izuku’s ability and it has you two rolling. 

[swifty-fox]

Soooooo excited for more Benny and Brady heheheh

i'd show you some smut but first they're going through the Horrors

“One,” Gale murmurs under his breath, voice so absent Benny knows he doesn’t realize he’s speaking out loud, “Two, Three, Four…” 

Five, Six, Seven, Eight, come the fuck on Johnny, Nine…

Paddlefoot’s Proxy slips through the cloud cover with all the grace of a cannonball and Benny breathes exactly none because she is about as devastated as a bird could be and still soar. 

Chunks from the wings and tail sheared clean off by flak, flaps missing or only half raised, rattling with the effort, leaking fluid and debris and shuddering with the exertion of it all. There’s a hole in her belly, spilling guts across the tarmac and Gale’s shouting for an ambulance, for a fire crew, John echoing in his broader, louder voice. Benny’s not shouting, Benny’s still not breathing, he’s scared to take any air from the sky that might soften Proxy’s landing. Somehow she’s still got landing gear, somehow they spool out seamlessly and she drops down to earth with hardly more than a bounce, creaking and groaning and sobbing but coming to a graceful stop all the same. 

Benny breathes out. Feels Gale leave his side, calling for space, calling for emergency crews, the wailing sirens growing closer and closer. He won’t go, won’t risk being in the way so he’s not close enough to see the faces of the battered bloody bodies they pull from the open gut-wound of Proxy, their screams faint and tinny and smothered by the thick fog. He waits and he breathes and he listens to men die in the distance and dies exactly nothing about it because it isn’t his job to do anything about it aside from stay out of the way. 

There’s commotion up by the cockpit, human bodies crawling over the surface of her body like ants and Bennty brings the cigarette to his mouth mechanically. Smokes his way through five minutes of waiting, then fifteen, and then thirty. The ambulance leaves, laden with wounded bodies and Benny won’t go until he’s sure everyone is out but he isn’t sure who’s left at this point, if all of Proxy’s children had been chauffeured away bloody and broken.

Figures come back through the fog. Ken Lemmons, a handful of Brady’s crew, pale-faced and stricken, Major Cleven, Major Egan. Both different from Buck and Bucky, with the distinction between all in the serious set of their mouths. And then Benny stumbles, though he isn’t even walking, or maybe it’s just his heart forgetting to work for just a moment. 

John Brady, face freckled by sun and blood, hair a wet slick back from his forehead, baring every bit of the pale, blank shock written there. There’s a cut high on his cheekbone, still oozing watery blood, a bruise across the bridge of his nose like he’d adjusted the sit of his oxygen mask – a nervous habit – so many times it had left damage to the skin. But he was standing, he was walking, and had been cleared by the immediate medical crew. 

“Johnny,” Benny calls in a voice he doesn’t recognize. 

Says it again when Johnny seems to take a moment to focus on him. He leans forward and places his half-finished cigarette between the other mans lips. Johnny pauses, blinks a few times like he has to remember what to do with the tobacco, and takes it from Benny’s fingers as gently as Meatball with a treat. Normally, it would make somewhere around Benny’s hips tingle. 

“Was it bad, Jack?” he asks stupidly, like it could have been anything but bad, horrendous, soul-rotting. Just like every single time was. 

“Captian Brady’s cockpit door jammed,” Bucky says, “Flak cut comms with the crew.”

He could have been flying a graveyard, for all he knew. 

“Gotta get him to interrogation,” Bucky adds kindly. The information already given a kindness, the formality a gentle warning. 

It’s just them so Benny reaches out, takes hold of Johnny’s bloody, bird-boned wrist and squeezes once, twice, three times.

this will be out thanksgiving day!!! featuring dom bottom John Brady

[shares-a-vest]

all the recent pictures of joseph quinn have me thinking about eddie cutting his hair and steve having FEELINGS about the cute little curls.

Steve is jiggling his keys in the sticky front door when it opens from the inside where Nancy is standing. The move unknowingly yanks him forward, sending him stumbling inside.

Why is Nancy in the apartment mid-afternoon on a Friday?

"Nance!" he chokes and promptly frowns, "What happened?"

"Umm," she hums and closes her mouth in a half smile, half grimace.

He shucks his bag off and dumps it at his feet, completely panicked, mind racing as he insists, "What happened!"

"Well…"

And that's when he catches the scissors in her left hand, light bouncing off them from the bright lighting in the building's hallway.

"What did you do!" he screeches.

"Eddie might have called me yesterday telling me he had officially decided he wanted me to cut his hair," the words tumble out of her mouth, almost entirely as a single word that she punctuates with a toothy grin and worried brows.

Steve charges inside, eyes darting around the apartment as his heart pounds.

Robin is sitting on the lounge reading a magazine and barely looking up as she gives a nonchalant, "Hey, Dingus."

He places his hands on his hips, "Hey! Hey? Rob, how could you have let this happen!"

Robin flaps a page of the magazine and stands, "Wow, sounds totally normal for you to be controlling your boyfriend's body, Steve."

She tosses the magazine (a fucking men's hair magazine) on the coffee table and walks to him, giving a condescending pat on the shoulder as she smirks.

"But his hair!" he argues, as if his hair hysteria makes total sense.

"He looks good," Nancy chimes and Robin nods in agreement.

"Hey, Steve."

He spins around to find Eddie standing in the kitchen, hair short and impossibly curled up. He taps his fingers on the counter where off-cuts sit in a fluffy pile that could easily be mistaken for their cat.

"H-Hey," Steve splutters, giving a wiggly-fingered wave.

He stares as Eddie runs his fingers through his new haircut.

"Your mousse made it curlier than we were expecting," Nancy explains, sounding almost apologetic. But she doesn't have to be, like, at all.

Eddie raises his hands above his head, balling them into fists in frustration, "He doesn't like it!"

He looks between the girls, eyes wide as saucers and beginning to glisten.

Oh shit - Steve is still staring. Gawking. All slack-jawed even.

"No, no, no! Eds, I-I do!" he promptly rushes to Eddie and cups his reddening cheeks, "It's just… different s'all."

Robin gives a hearty scoff and Steve ignores her, refusing to listen to whatever quip she mutters to a giggling Nancy. He doesn't care that the pair find him and Eddie to be sickly lovebirds who never left the honeymoon stage of their relationship. He looks Eddie over, trying to read his mind to get a sense of anything else that might have influenced his decision.

"You sure nothing else is worrying you?" he continues, chewing at his bottom lip, for once wishing he had El's powers, "Remember when you were going to tell Wayne we wanted to move out and instead of telling him you dyed your hair blue? Or at least, tried to," he chuckles, "And Henderson and Claudia had to come over with their toxic concoction of cleaning supplies to get the stains off every surface in the kitchen?"

Eddie buries his face in the crook of his neck, snickering, "Nothing else. Promise, Stevie. I just wanted a change."

Steve soothes his hands over his back, his fingers gathering up loose strands of hair. He reaches up to his neck, massaging there too and feeling the hair at the nape of Eddie's now-exposed neck, the fresh ends slipping easily through his fingers.

Eddie detaches himself, keeping him at arm's length as he adds, "I was starting to feel like a bit of a has-been, anyway."

"Well, I don't like that part of it at all," Steve frowns, petting the curls at the front that were once Eddie's brow-hitting bangs.

He grimaces as that nagging part of his brain he has never been able to shirk (some combination of his mother's vanity and a built-in bitchiness) zeroes in on Eddie's possibly receding hairline. Steve shakes his head, willing away such a shallow thought as he cups his hands over Eddie's exposed ears, shifting to worrying about the upcoming winter and how his ears will most certainly get cold.

But Nancy did a good job. Great, in fact. She even applied the mousse properly so it isn't making Eddie's hair all tacky and clumped together. It is cut evenly too. Although Steve might need to use the electric razor to clean up around Eddie's sideburns a little.

Eddie looks impossibly cute like this, perhaps more than he ever did when he tied his hair up (the very first time sending Steve into cardiac arrest). His cheeks look rounder, more cherubic. And when those dimples inevitably come out, it will be an unholy combination...

God help Steve.

"Should we get going?" Robin wonders aloud.

It makes Steve jump - he had forgotten they weren't alone. Eddie barks a laugh and manhandles him into turning around to face the girls. Nancy points to herself, her other hand defiantly propped on her hip.

"I need to get paid."

Eddie hushes up demands of payment as quickly as possible, grumbling away as he gives Nancy some cash he had apparently retrieved from the bank and hidden in their sock drawer two weeks ago. He had promised to buy her a dress at a swanky boutique she had been eyeing, even though Nancy complained that he wasn't going with her to buy it. Even years later, the pair were inseparable shopping partners, a duo that could easily give Steve and Robin a run for their (in this case literal) money.

Steve can't help it, as soon as Eddie shuts the front door, he pounces, knocking them both into the coat stand as he peppers kisses onto the back of his neck.

"So you do like it?" Eddie laughs, stumbling around to steady them while Steve wraps his arms around his middle.

"Absolutely!"

Eddie manages to turn around despite the tight hold on him, smiling in that lethal way that showcases his dimples.

And yeah, Steve is most definitely a goner.

[aboutcustardcreams]

About the beach day

Nothing, just pure fluff. Written in an hour-ish or so. Sometimes it is nice to take a day off. The Doctor finally manages to keep her promise to give both you and Yaz a day to the beach.

Word count: 2288

“I can’t believe you’re finally keeping your promise to take us to the beach. A real beach,” you say, shooting an amusing glance at the Doctor, who snorts in return, probably believing you’re overreacting. Yaz chuckles, then mutters under her breath. Something about not rejoicing too early. 

“Oh, come on—” The Doc groans, flapping her hands in the air. You cock your head and so does Yaz, as she darts her eyes from you to her. “It’s not that I haven’t tried to bring you there. It’s the TARDIS that enjoys messing up with the coordinates to find somewhere else to be.” 

The Time machine, being sentient, chirps, probably in protest, sending a buzz to the Doctor’s fingers. 

“Oi! Do not be like that.”

Yaz turns towards you, “What do you think she told her?”

“I can’t be 100 percent sure, but I do believe, knowing their dynamics, that she’s just called her big head or something,” you mused, a grin curling up your lips, “oh and, she probably electrocuted her too,” you add, looking at the Doc sucking her thumb. 

Yaz can hardly stifle a laugh. “Like a proper married couple,” she drapes arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer so she can talk in your ear. Something regarding the Doctor and how cute she is when she acts like a little child. 

“Hey— Stop speaking behind my back!” The Doc chastises, a finger pointed at the two of you. 

You both sealed your mouths at once, by pressing your lips in a thin line. Your eyes, though, kept brimming in amusement. When the TARDIS finally landed, electricity cracked and the floor vibrated for a second. 

“Alright, fam!” The Doc exclaims, taking a rapid look at the screens. “Are ya ready?” Excitement rising through her. Her beautiful hazel eyes, as always, glimmer with sheer delight in the prospect of a new adventure. You can quite never grasp their true color if you’re honest. Sometimes they are hazel, some other times lighter than that, almost green, whereas in the golden lights of the TARDIS, they turn into the same shade of the stars. 

You stalled for a moment, when the TARDIS’s door opened. You give a peek from afar, while Yaz catapults herself outside. It’s not that you don’t trust the Doctor, because you did on a percentage of 90%. Nah, maybe 75%, that turned into a solid 80% on a good day. 

The Doc is standing outside, hands in her pockets and eyes on you. “Do you wanna come out or not?” She asks rather impatiently, eager to show you around. 

You scrunch up your nose. Yaz could almost read your mind as you carefully looked at the screens to figure out where exactly you landed, however it was quite complicated to decipher those maps that for all you knew could portray anywhere and nowhere in the world… universe. “Shouldn’t we double check? You know, last time there were sea devils,” you say, your tone not accusing at all. Almost. Not quite. 

The Doc merely rolls her eyes. “I apologized for that, didn’t I?” You loved how despite her being a hundred years old, she always managed to sound like a cute little child who didn’t like being said no. It warmed your heart, making you feel all tingly inside. She didn’t know, or perhaps you hoped you weren’t that obvious, but you’d do very much anything for her. And that includes facing the sea devils again if that was really necessary. 

“Plus, we had quite an adventure.” 

“We nearly became fish food,” Yaz argued.

“But we didn’t!”, she grinned from ear to ear as if that had been the greatest achievement. “How many people can put the check on that?” There’s mischievousness in her tone and you can’t help the slow shake of your head. Time Lords.

You three had a unique bond, something you never thought you’d achieve in your life. Not in your late 20s anyway. And even if the price to pay was facing few dangers on a daily basis, you were content with that. The gift of having both Yaz and the Doctor was worth any battle in space, or monster for the matter. You wouldn’t trade your life for anything else. Neither would your best friend Yaz. 

“Those who don’t, can’t understand their luck…” a grin finds your lips. 

Yaz smiles inwardly. “My grandma always tells me to not begrudge other people. Yet at that particular moment it was hard for me to keep the green monster at bay.” 

“I feel ya,” you take a step towards the TARDIS’s door, hands on your hips as you gently, and carefully sway a leg in and out. Tongue peeping through your teeth as you do so. You see the Doctor tapping her foot rather impatiently on the other side. Now she knows you’re only teasing her. But two can play this game. You flash her a daring grin, she immediately reciprocates. 

She reaches out a hand for you to take, wiggling her fingers while doing so. The Doctor emanates light, you think. Or maybe she is light herself. You can’t resist, you give her your hand, but she doesn’t pull yet, she only intertwines your fingers together. So soft. So gentle. 

“Is it safe?”, you inquired one more time. “No monsters of any kind?” You don’t really think it’s dangerous out there. Honestly, looking around you, all you see is a beautiful landscape. Like a natural reserve far from all evils of the universe. 

“Seems like it,” Yaz interferes, moving away towards the sea. 

The Doc takes both your hands now, encouraging you with a soft smile. “Don’t make me carry ya,” it was supposed to sound like a threat, however the possibility didn’t scare you in the slightest. 

She pulls and you stumble to her front, crashing not so elegantly against her, and you yelp, eyes wide open, welcomed by the brightest smile. Hers. When she laughs, you feel her all over you, her hearts echoing against your chest. 

Her fingers brush like feathers against your hips, as she steadies you. “Gotcha, stardust,” nobody looks at you the way she does. 

“Sorry,” you crack a small smile. “Caught me by surprise.”

Her lips twitched in a soft smile. “It’s fine. You’re as light as a feather. But clumsy. Very much so.” 

Your eyebrows shot up at that admission, “is that so?” 

“It’s not a bad thing,” she is ready to clarify, probably concerned you had taken offense. Truthfully you didn’t. “Unless we find ourselves in a life or death situation, that requires no clumsiness whatsoever. But no worries, even if that’s the case, I’ll have your back. Always. Can’t have a universe without you in it now, can I?” 

You blush and croak out. “You’re rambling, Doctor.” 

“Am I? Sorry. You’re easy to chat with. Feels nice. You’re nice.” 

“Thanks,” you say genuinely in awe of her. “I love talking to you as well.” 

It’s her turn to blush, you spot the hue of pink heating up her cheekbones. “Brilliant.” 

You finally step out of the TARDIS, with one of your hands still intertwined with hers. It wasn’t unusual for the three of you to hold hands, while strolling around. A routine you hoped would last forever. 

The doctor keeps looking at you with the corner of her eye to grasp and memorize your reaction to the place. Yaz has already taken off her shoes, eager to feel the sandy ground under her feet. 

“This place is absolutely breathtaking,” you breathe out. 

The Doctor beams at you, “Told ya,” her thumb brushes delicately over the back of your hand, causing your eyes to flee there for a second. 

“Where are we?” Yaz squealed when the soft waves of the sea, crashing against the shore, wet her toes. It’s cold, but a good kind of cold. Refreshing and inviting. 

You chuckle and kick off your shoes as well. 

At that moment, the blonde took the sonic out of her coat to scan the area. Her brows are knitted in a frown as she does that, with the tip of her tongue gently tapping over her upper lip. When your feet touch the water, you feel regenerated at once. The sea is crystal clear, perfect for swimming, you think. 

“Oh, interesting,” your thoughts are interrupted by the Doc’s humming. “Very,” she insists. “Didn’t think we would end up in this timeline, but ah well, you never know with a stubborn time machine as my TARDIS.” 

“You mean we aren’t where you thought we would be?” Yaz inquired. 

“No, no… I don’t think so,” The Time Lady bends down to dip her finger in the sand. You know what’s coming. These unusual things she does remind you she isn’t human, but an alien. A beautiful and silly alien, to be precise, with weird culinary habits. When she puts that same finger in her mouth, Yaz winces. Clicking her tongue, she concludes, “Right place, wrong timeline. Greece, 12th century… No villages nearby. There are living forms though, but luckily for us, no aliens. Probably animals.” 

“So it’s really safe,” you feel yourself relaxing. 

Yaz clung to your arm, rather excitedly, “Unbelievable. We should mark the date” 

The Doc rolls her eyes, while taking off her boots. Humans, really. Always so dramatic, she thought. 

“We are going to spend a normal day at the beach without aliens running after us,” you keep teasing. 

“Oi! Rude!” The Doc pretends to be offended. Her expression is priceless. 

When she tackles you, you walk backwards, ending in Yaz’s arms and let out a giggle. “Who’s rude now?” you raise an eyebrow, in challenge. 

As you and the Doc keep eye contact, Yaz places her chin above your shoulder, “can we swim now?”, with her bottom lip wobbling, it’s hard to deny her anything. 

“I suppose so,” comes the Doc’s reply. 

Yaz squeals and pumps a fist in the air. She later proceeds on taking off her leather jacket, then shirt, dropping those on the shore, remaining only in pants and bra. 

You and the Doc share an amused glance, “She absolutely loves the beach.”

The Time Lady hums and tilts her head towards you, “Don’t you?” Her voice is soft and curious. 

“Oh, I do. Very much.” The Doctor grins at the excitement you’re trying to keep at bay. Your toes wriggles in contact with the water that's now reaching your calf. 

“So, what are you waiting for? Go on!”

Yaz, in the meantime, is calling out for the two of you, calling you snails. The water has reached her shoulders now, and her smile goes from ear to ear. 

You furrow your eyebrows. “Aren’t you coming?”

She smiles and nods, “In a minute.” The Doctor wished to savor the moment for a little longer. She never thought that seeing both you and Yaz so happy could make her feel that way. Nothing compared to that. Not even the space, the galaxies and their colors mingling together in the most incredible shades. 

You lean forward and without a warning, you press a kiss to the Doctor’s cheek. She blinked, partially frozen, but melted right away as you muttered, “Thank you for this.” 

You don’t give her the time to reply, that you start running towards the sea, squealing and laughing at how cold the water feels against your exposed skin. You too are only in bras and shorts. In a second you’re right next to your best friend, and with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she starts splashing water at you, giving you barely time to respond to the attack. 

The Doctor laughs fondly at that. “My fam,” she mutters under her breath. 

To flee from her attack, you dive underwater, swimming behind her. Yaz frowns, not expecting you to pull her by the ankle. Your grip is strong enough to pull her own figure underwater for a second. When she reemergers, she gasps and comes face to face with your mischievous grin. Next thing you feel are her strong arms wrapped around you. Sometimes you forget that she is a policewoman. 

“Let go!”

“I don’t think so.”

She ignores your plea, and dives the two of you underwater. 

Both yours and Yaz’s laughter was music to the Doctor’s ears. She doesn’t even notice the single tear sliding down her cheek, until it tickles and wets her lips. She’s quick to wipe it away, not wanting to ruin the moment in case you two spotted it. She was both happy and sad, she couldn’t explain it. One heart was happy, and the other sad, but she couldn’t quite understand why, not completely at least. 

“Doc!” you called out for her, “Come on in now!”

The Time Lady smiled, “I’m coming!” She drops her coat next to yours and Yaz’s clothes, then removes the suspenders, not wanting to have those in the way. The rainbow shirt goes too, leaving her in sporty bras. Pants fell to her feet, revealing to the two of you the cutest pair of boxers ever seen. 

“No splashing,” she chastises softly. 

You hummed in thought, still admiring her beauty, and hoping to not be too obvious. 

“Can’t promise you that,” Yaz smirks, eyebrows waggling. 

“She’s savage,” you splash Yaz in the face once again. Blinking off droplets of water from her eyes, she darts her eyes from the Doctor to you, humming slowly, “I’ll show you just how much.” Was it a threat, or a promise? Maybe both. 

“Yaz, wait–”

The Doctor huffed in amusement, the moment she pounced on you. 

Humans, she thought, poking her tongue between her teeth and reaching up the two of you, are the most brilliant species of them all. 

[ode-to-fury]

By Firelight

Pairing: Gale/Tav (pre relationship denial)

Summary: Gale can’t sleep, and he’s not… happy about Tav being up, but he’s not not happy about it. (I.e. I was trying to practice my showing not telling and I actually quite liked it)

Gale turned over for the upteenth time before huffing out a frustrated breath. Damn his godsforsaken back to the hells. No matter the position he attempted to lie in, something hurt. His bedroll was hardly a bulwark against the cold, hard, frankly unfathomably rocky ground.

He knew in reality it was the orb. It was always the orb. The artifact that Tav had given him had helped. Slightly. Not enough.

His ears were still ringing faintly, and if he lay still too long it felt as though he spun through the space behind his eyes, which reminded him far too much of nights as an apprentice after the Yawning Portal. The muscle spasms hadn’t quite started yet, but they would. He was all too aware they would. His cure was no cure anymore, and it worried him. Greatly.

To add insult to injury, he was perfectly aware he could probably conjure himself a comfortable featherbed.

He was also perfectly aware that such an act would expose him to enthusiastic and earnest ridicule from the rest of their merry little band.

He huffed once more, and decided he would give up for the night and try and read for a while. He grabbed the first book he could find in the darkness of his tent and crawled out through the flap.

It was a dark night tonight. The moon was only a small sliver amongst the stars, and occasional clouds obscured even that faint light.

The fire was crackling merrily, and Tav sat with her back to the stone in the middle of their camp, staring at the dancing flames. There was the small line of a frown between her brows, and Scratch lay with his head pillowed on her lap, her fingers absently scratching behind one upright ear.

He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle her, and her grey eyes flicked to him, then back at the fire.

“I was under the impression you’d already taken your watch earlier this evening,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied shortly. “Thought I’d let Wyll get some more rest instead of both of us being awake.”

“Very prudent of you.”

He groaned as he sat down next to her, leaning back against the rock. It was cool, which was soothing against the aching in his back.

She glanced sideways at him, then back at the flames. From here, he could only see one corner of her mouth, a faint scar trailing along her jaw. He found himself wondering how she’d gotten it. Scratch reached out his nose to sniff at Gale’s hand, then, when he had determined there was no immediate threat, returned to being pampered.

He was glad, selfishly, that she had told Wyll to go back to sleep. He… he enjoyed her company. Was glad of it tonight. It seemed to him, no matter how bleak their circumstances appeared to be, when she grinned her crooked grin, that everything would end up perfectly fine.

“What book?” She asked after a while. Gale started slightly, realizing he’d been sitting there with the book unopened for too long.

He cleared his throat.

“A treatise on the crafting of magic shields and the various attributes of each different type,” he said. “I found it in that ruined temple we explored, though I haven’t yet found the time to study it. Of course, there are quite a few thoughts in the school of abjuration on various magic shields and their uses, and then you have the regional differences, I mean- if you’ve ever read a text originating from Amn and the wizards there you’ll find they approach the entire concept differently from even the beginning of spellcasting when compared to here or even Calimshan. Though the Calishite school again has other ideas on the concept but the point I was trying to make is how region and even regional ways of thinking can influence- “

He stopped when he realised she was looking at him with a small smile on her face.

“What?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, jerking her head toward the fire. “I- I suppose I always thought a shield was a shield.”

He laughed.

“Believe me," he said, grinning, “Many an apprentice thought the same thing before our first abjuration lesson at Blackstaff.”

She looked over at him, frowning, then shook her head.

“You’ve never had any instruction?” He asked.

“Would it make a difference?” She asked sharply.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“A simple question. In fact, I think it’s very impressive you’ve managed so much with no education, especially given the volatile nature of your magic. There was one sorcerer in my class at Blackstaff, but he was of a draconic line, and to my understanding their magic is much less erratic than some other origins’.”

She was still frowning at him.

“Sometimes,” she said slowly, “I can’t tell whether you’re giving me a compliment or not.”

He winced.

“I assure you,” he said, somewhat apologetically, “It was intended as one.”

He tried for a sheepish smile.

“I’m afraid I’m out of practice.”

One of her eyebrows lifted.

“At compliments?”

“Partly.”

He realised they were moving into dangerous territory, and if she asked any further questions he would not have answers for her. He- he didn’t want to tell her about the orb, or Mystra. Asking for artefacts had already somewhat broken her trust in him.

It was… nice. To have a friend. Besides Tara, of course. Though Tav was much less of a nursemaid than Tara was. Between the two of them he’d never be short on scathing remarks, however. Or stubbornness. For the time being, he would pretend as though he was not a shell of his former self, merely until he had found a different way of sating his arcane hunger. Then he would cease being a burden or a liabillity to her and the others.

“I’ve had… some instruction,” she said, snapping him back tot he present. “Over the years, whenever I liked a spell someone cast, or needed to learn something for survival. Other things just happened naturally, like throwing up a shield the first time an arrow came firing at me.”

He watched as firelight flickered across her face. Her nose was turned upward, and he found himself tracing the slope of it with his eyes.

“And summoning a cow to drop from the sky?”

She tried and failed to hide a grin as she shot him a look. A deep dimple appeared in her cheek. He’d never met anyone with dimples before her. Such an endearingly human imperfection.

“That doesn’t count,” she said. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

He shook his head.

“It took me two months to work out how to summon a tressym,” he said.

“In this world, Gale, there are people with talent,” she lay a hand on her chest, “And people without.”

She looked at him pointedly, and he burst into laughter.

Again, she watched him with that small smile, and he found himself returning it.

“If it makes you feel any better, my father was livid.”

He shrugged.

“My mother was not much better, but she forgave me eventually, I suppose. And let me keep the tressym.”

She snorted softly.

“Good for you.” Her gaze returned to the flames, and he realised he might have touched on a sensitive subject.

“You still owe me the rest of that story, you know,” he nudged her arm with his elbow, regretted it immediately when she tensed.

“You still owe me that drink to go with it,” she said. He did not miss that she moved away from him slightly.

“I could, ah, read to you,” he found himself saying, if only diffuse the tension he had just created. “If you wish. Though the book may be out of date by several decades, if not centuries, based on the penmanship alone.”

She grimaced, looking over at the book he held as though she was looking at a particularly unpleasant bug.

“A treatise? On magic shields?” She asked.

“Forgive me,” he said, feigning understanding, “I could also explain some of the more foreign concepts, as your lack of education would be a hindrance.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and only the faintest shadow of a dimple showed in her cheek.

“I normally prefer different books.”

“Different?”

“More interesting?”

“More interesting than an ancient academic treatise on shields?” He asked in mock outrage.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“I like adventure stories,” she said finally. “You know, where the valiant prince rescues the maiden in distress, or vanquishes a dragon, or two young lovers have to stand up to their families.”

He grinned.

“You didn’t strike me as the type.”

“No?”

“No. You seem far too cynical to be caught up in any adventures that are not your own.”

“Well,” she said, shrugging, “Looks can be decieving.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked at him, just for a second, and a dimple showed again as she gave him another crooked grin. So different from the cynical adventurer he had met but a week ago.

“I suppose they can be,” he said softly, and found that he was grinning back at her again.

She looked back at the fire, and Gale cleared his throat slightly, feeling suddenly as though he shouldn’t be looking at her at all.

“You can read to me,” she said. “If you’d like. Believe it or not, I like learning. About magic especially.”

She shrugged.

“If anything it will make the time go more quickly.”

So Gale did.

And later, just before dawn, when her head drooped onto his shoulder he told himself he didn’t think much of it, and that she was simply tired.

He let her sleep, however, without complaint, savouring the first friendly touch he’d felt since she’d pulled him from that rock, and realised that he had forgotten to worry about the orb since the moment he’d set eyes on her.

[sparkypantaloons]

School Gates

Sooo Bruce may have forgotten four year old Tim was starting school today. But that's okay, five year old Jason has many, many solutions to that problem...

(Part of my baby-Bat AU here on AO3)

Bruce is stressed. Next level stressed. And it’s all his own stupid fault.

“I did leave a reminder with Alex at the office,” Alfred says dryly, “And on your desk in the study, and on your phone and told you to your face last week.” The older man looks deeply unimpressed. “Several times, in fact. And before you say anything,” He adds, as Bruce opens his mouth to respond. “The agreement was boys first, bats second.”

Bruce tries his utmost not to scowl. He ends up grimacing instead. “I just feel like you could be a little more helpful with the school uniform situation.”

As if on cue, Jason barges into Tim’s room, shoving past Alfred with an enormous pair of scissors clutched in his hands. “Oh my god.” Bruce breathes, stomach swooping in alarm. Where did Jason even get these from?

“Let’s just cut the sleeves off?” Jason suggests unhelpfully, not quite dodging quickly enough, as Bruce lunges for the scissors. He grunts as he tries to escape Bruce’s desperate grab for the offending blades. “Otherwise—unh—Bruce! No— we’ll be—ugh!— late.”

Tim flaps his arms, the sleeves of Jason’s knitted school sweater flapping with them. “Too big.” He says, and he drops his arms to his side with a small sigh. The sweater reaches his knees, the sleeves almost the floor.

“I did my time sorting school uniform out, if you recall, Master Bruce,” Alfred says smugly, (and Bruce is sure he can see a smirk beneath his moustache). “And given that I wash and iron all of the uniforms in the house,” he gives Bruce a pointed look. “I think I’m being more than helpful.”

He wanders out of Tim’s bedroom, leaving Bruce holding the scissors in one hand, and Jason by the ankle in the other.

Jason looks up at Bruce’s face from where he dangles. “What about the sweater you shrinked when Alfred was in the spa?” He asks, as though upside-down conversations are completely the norm. “That might fit?”

“Why don’t we just leave him behind?” Dick scowls from the doorway. “It’s not like he was in school last week, who cares if he’s there this week.”

“Be nice, Dickie.” Bruce warns, setting Jason back down on his feet. “School is important, remember? And besides, Tim wants to go, don’t you Timmy?”

Tim, who is trying to pick his nose through the sweater sleeve, doesn’t answer.

It’s not that Bruce forgot that Tim was starting school this week, clearly, or that he forgot Tim would need a school uniform to start school this week, it’s just that… look, he’s been busy, okay? And it’s not like he planned on an extra kid, it just kind of… happened? Obviously, he knew Tim was starting school, he’d paid the tuition fees himself! And it’s not that he’d forgotten Tim would need a uniform either. He’s not a moron. He just… didn’t realise all of that would be happening today.

It didn’t help that it was the middle of the semester and there were no helpful uniform reminders being sent every other week (given Tim had only come to Bruce a few weeks ago), nor did it help that none of the uniforms Dick and Jason had fit Tim (given Tim was so small for his age), and it especially didn’t help that Bruce had been up until 4am fighting some Killer-Croc wannabe calling himself ‘Danger Gator’.

All in all, Bruce wasn’t proud of himself, but frankly, at this stage of the morning, he didn’t see what other option he had.

“Boys.” He says seriously. “I need you to stay here for five minutes. You are not to leave this room, understand?”

Jason shrugs in agreement, and Tim is still too busy trying to get a finger up his nose when his hands have disappeared down such long sleeves, but Dick is furious.

“Where are you going now?" He hisses. "We’re going to be late as it is?”

“Dickie—“

“I told you we should just leave him here!”

Bruce doesn’t have time for this argument again. “Just stay here.” He says, hoping it comes off firm and authorative, but fairly certain it just sounds like he’s begging the seven year old. Then he scurries from Tim’s room, closing the door behind him.

“Superman?” He half whispers, not trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “Kal, if you can hear me, I’ve got an emergency at the Manor, the door is—” There’s a great whoosh of air and Superman appears before him, “—open.”

“What is it, Bruce? Are you okay? Lord, you look awful, what happened?” Clark says all in one rush, warm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, face full of concern.

Bruce is too tired to feel offended by the suggestion he looks awful, he’s pretty sure he’s still got drain-juice in his hair anyway. “I forgot to get Tim a school uniform.” He says, without pretence.

“You— huh?” Superman blinks politely.

“Tim. My son. Uniform. He starts school today. I need you to fly to Europe and grab me one. Probably the UK is the best bet, the stores will be open there.”

Superman blinks again. “Excuse me?”

“Clark!” Bruce snaps. “This is an emergency! I can’t send him to school without a uniform!”

Realisation slowly dawns on Superman’s face, a smug, knowing look begins to form. “Are you telling me,” He asks lightly, smirk growing with every second “Mr. I-have-a-contingency-for-every-possible-eventuality-including-sharks, wasn’t organised enough to do his back to school shopping?”

“Kal.” Bruce begins dangerously.

“Diana is going to love this.” The Kryptonian says gleefully.

“Kal!” Bruce says again, more loudly this time. “Please. I am not above begging. We have to be out the door in—” he checks his watch, “— five minutes ago! Please! Go! I will owe you one.”

Clark literally rubs his hands together with glee. “Yes, you will!” And he disappears with another whoosh. 90 seconds later, Bruce has a brand new uniform in his hands and an appointment slip for an interview with the Daily Planet’s new ‘Lifestyle’ section.

“Thanks Clark, you’re the worst.” He mumbles to himself, and heads back into Tim’s room.

“Ta-da!!” Jason says loudly as Bruce opens the door. He’s holding his hands out at Tim who is in the same ridiculously over-large sweater, but is now sporting an insane new haircut. “Remember you said Tim was meant to get haircut before school?” Jason asks, waving the safety scissors from Tim’s arts and crafts box around. “Now he’s all sorted!”

“Oh my god.” Bruce says. And he wonders if it’d be okay to lie down and cry and in front of his children.

“You don’t like?” Tim asks, him, running a hand over the side of his head, where the hair is cut so short it sticks up on end in tufts.

“No, it— it looks great, Timmy. You look very good.” Bruce tries to smile, can only manage a Chrissy Tiegen style grimace instead. “I got you a uniform, okay, let’s put this on. Jason, Dickie, out.”

The entire time Bruce is helping Tim change into his new school uniform his brain is whirring. He can’t let the kid go to school looking like a malting dog, but he also can’t let Tim miss his first day of school either. Down in the pit of his stomach, Bruce is coming to a terrible realisation. By the time Tim’s tie is tied (there’s not time for teaching this morning), he realises there is literally no other option.

He rushes the boys out the door, taking the car to school instead of their usual morning walk, so they’re not even later than they already are.

“Bye boys,” He calls, variously ruffling hair, and pressing kisses to cheeks. “Learn something good today!” Then he speeds off into the city.

A good few hours later, he’s back at the Manor. Flops face down onto one of the couches in the library.

“Is that you, Master Bruce?” Alfred calls from the kitchen. Bruce can hear him making up a tray of tea and cookies. “Did I really hear you call Superman, of all people, for help with uniforms this morning?” He asks disapprovingly, making his way to the library.

“I don’t want to hear it, Alfred.” Bruce mumbles into the cushion his face is squashed in.

“Well, as long as you’re not planning on abusing Clark’s good nature every mor—” Alfred suddenly stands very still. “What on earth have you done to your hair?” He asks.

Bruce sits up grumpily. “This cost me $300.” He says sourly.

“You did that on purpose!?” Alfred asks alarmed.

“Jason cut Tim’s hair this morning. I didn’t want Tim to feel stupid.” He mutters, then, “I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Oh my dear boy.” Alfred says with an affectionate laugh. He puts the tea tray down, ruffles Bruce’s ridiculous tufts of hair. “You really are a soft touch.”

Clearly Bruce’s hair is even worse than it originally looked in the barbers, because Alfred takes pity on him and goes to collect the boys from school. The second they return, Dick absolutely falls to pieces laughing at Bruce’s hair.

“You look like a squirrel!” He cackles, clutching his sides.

Tim looks up at Bruce, highly concerned. “Oh no.” He says, eyes wide. “Oh no, no, no.”

“Don’t worry.” Jason pats Bruce’s arm sagely. “It will grow back soon,” And Bruce has to remind himself that five year olds have no concept of time. “In like five years.”

[another-lost-mc]

Thinking about mc summoning the boys from their shadow. Like it stretches out either in front of them or behind them. Levi slowly surfacing from the shadow like it's water. Or Satan literally crawling his way out of it. Grasping at the edges and lifting himself up out of mc's shadow.

Also for Lucifer I feel like he'd just step outside of mc's shadow slowly, maybe parting it like a curtain. As for asmo I feel like he'd reach his hands out first (maybe to grab onto MC or Solomon) as he pulls himself out of their shadow. For mammon he'd rise up or maybe a bunch of crows would surround the shadow until he appeared in a flurry of feathers.

For belphie I feel like he'd slowly melt out of mc's shadow. Like a blanket that's covering him. As for beel I think it'd be funny if his accidentally hit his head on the edge of mc's shadow if they're shorter than him.

It's getting late and words are kind of failing me right now, but I had some ideas about this sort of thing that didn't make it in the other post! if I can spit them out I'll add them to it later. Lemme see.

Lucifer I kind of imagined appearing in like a gust of wind behind a flurry of black feathers. He's flying slightly, hovering just off the ground behind MC. Even though the shadow forms are dark and generally void of colour, his eyes and gloves are still noticeably red.

I didn't really picture anything special for Mammon, but since he's so fast I could almost see him spawning at MC's feet and then sprinting past whatever it is that raised MC's hackles. The demon or whoever turns around and there's Mammon, crouched low and grinning with his fangs on display before he pounces.

No lie, I almost see Levi's form slowly rising like the shadow is black inky water, like you said. And it's so dark and obscure he almost looks like a naga emerging from the shadow until he steps forward and his tail uncoils itself from around his body.

I like the idea of Satan crawling out of the shadow, and the wispy shape of his feathered boa and his tail curling around his body makes him look bestial and menacing.

For Asmo, I think the first thing you notice is a soft, condescending chuckle. It's distorted and deeper, like an old audio recording. The next thing you notice is a pair of hands trailing over MC's shoulders—or around their waist—as he slowly wraps his arms around them from behind. He pulls MC against his chest and hooks his chin over their shoulder, eyes flaring and mouth widening in deadly amusement while he assesses his target. (Even if they try to run away, it's too late.)

Beel I almost picture him leaping out of the shadow and then hovering higher off the ground while his wings flap rapidly behind him, and then he's like a comet plummeting to the ground when he goes in for the attack.

Belphie is so slow and lazy, I see his pulling itself up from the ground by grabbing at MC's clothes, and then he yawns and leans against MC's back. He summons the specter then nuzzles against MC's neck or shoulder while the thing just obliterates whatever the threat was. lol

[babytarttdoodoo]

kind of a rouge prompt idea but “i just told a story at work about my childhood that i thought was really funny but now everyone is super quiet and someone said i’m so sorry” but it’s jamie + the team edition. like he talks about a traumatising James Thing and has no idea how horrifying it is until they’re all like …… wtf

love your writing! <3

Thanks for the prompt (and the lovely compliment)!

I’ll preface this by saying I have next to no knowledge of dentistry and you should not assume any medical assertions made here are correct.

((I also feel like I should add that I finished this one off while more than a little tipsy.))

Enjoy the himbo chaos.

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

“Ay, dios mio, it was terrifying.” Dani put an emphatic hand to his chest. “Earl. He still haunts me.”

“Thought you were over that, bruv.” Isaac frowned up at him from his usual spot on the locker bench.

“On the pitch, yes. But at night…” Dani shook his head mournfully. “I have dreams of being chased in the dark. I know it is him.”

“I used to have dreams like that.” Colin piped up, pausing in tying his laces and looking haunted. “‘Cept it was my nana chasing me, on her mobility scooter.”

A few people sniggered and Isaac clapped Colin’s shoulder. “That’s fucked up.”

“I never remember my dreams,” Sam mused. “But I have always been a very deep sleeper. My father says I was the envy of all other parents when I was a baby.”

“I have only ever had one nightmare.” Richard declared. “All of my beautiful little teeth fell out of my mouth and I was ugly. Who will kiss me if I have no teeth?”

“Who’s losing teeth?” Jamie asked, joining the conversation from the doorway with a furrowed brow.

“We are discussing nightmares,” Jan explained matter-of-factly, then turned back to Richard. “Dreams about losing teeth are commonly attributed to stress.”

Jamie shook his head, still looking confused.

“Nah, don’t get that one, mate. Your dentist can just stick ‘em right back in, can’t they?”

That sparked a round of horrified protests and Jamie flapped his hands like a conductor to quiet the rabble.

“Eh, eh, I’m right!”

“Actually…” Sam held up his phone, open on an NHS webpage. “Jamie is correct.”

The locker room erupted into disgust and outrage while Jamie grinned smugly and tipped his I,COG cap to Sam for the assist.

“Hold on, how did you know that?” Isaac demanded, staring at Jamie like he had two heads. That quietened the team a little as heads swivelled in Jamie’s direction.

“Knocked two of ‘em out when I were, like, 10.” He shrugged and tapped a fingernail against one of his front teeth in demonstration. “Mum’s friend were a dental nurse. Told her to put them in some milk and take me to hospital.”

“You were very lucky.” Sam commented, still scrolling through the information he had found. “A significant gap in your teeth can lead to premature ageing.”

“And what a tragedy that would have been, eh?” Jamie beamed, gesturing to his face. “To think I might have deprived the world of this top tier mug.”

Other players groaned and laughed, a few tossing socks or discarded shirts in Jamie’s direction while he ducked, sniggering.

“How do you know they gave you your real teeth back?” Bumbercatch questioned, with an air that suggested great suspicion of the dentistry profession as a whole.

Jamie considered that. “Fair point,” he conceded. “They feel like mine, though.”

“Wait, how do you even manage to lose two teeth at once?” Colin interjected, muffled by his fingers as he prodded his own mouth in confusion. “I’ve never lost any after my baby teeth.”

“Took a snooker cue to the face.” The team winced as a collective and Jamie nodded sagely. “Were pretty grim. Blood all over the pub floor and everything.”

“You were 10?” Thierry clarified, face scrunched up. “Do kids normally get into bar fights here?”

“Well, yeah, s’pose not.” Jamie shuffled in place, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. “Weren’t a fight so much. Dad took me in to watch a match and it all kicked off a bit.”

An uneasy quiet overtook the general hubbub and more than one face went stony at that revelation.

“Mate.” Jeff looked like he’d rather not be the one probing further, but had bitten the bullet anyway. “Your, uh, your dad wasn’t the one with the pool cue, was he?”

“Eh…” Jamie glanced around the room before answering. “Well, yeah. He was. But I’m, like, 90% sure it were an accident.”

Chaos detonated like a bomb.

Isaac and Richard jumped to their feet, one cursing in French, the other demanding to know how long it would take to get to Manchester. Colin seemed to be googling train times.

Dani had taken to rifling through his bag, looking for god knows what, and Thierry was strapping on his mask like it was war paint (he didn’t even need it anymore, he just liked looking scary).

Jan was a terrifyingly silent pillar in the middle of the storm and Sam… Well, Sam looked like he had been gutted.

“OI!” Roy’s bellow commanded immediate silence, players freezing mid-shout. He was framed by the door to the coaches’ office, arms crossed and typical glare set in place. “What the fuck is going on out here?”

“Close ranks!” Jamie all but squeaked, invoking a hallowed, sacred vow from the team to collectively shut the fuck up.

All eyes turned to Issac who, as captain, had the final say.

On balance, he decided it was probably best that their new manager didn’t get arrested for murder before the season even got underway.

“Agreed.” he finally acquiesced and the whole room affirmed their compliance sullenly. It just wasn’t worth the forfeit to cave in under Roy’s (very effective) glare.

“... right then.” Roy finally allowed, still looking at them all suspiciously. “Then get out on the pitch and stop wasting our time.”

Everyone clamoured towards the tunnel, eager to escape the intense atmosphere. All except Jamie, who was still hurriedly pulling on his kit.

He tried not to seize up when Roy sidled over.

“You’ll tell me later.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question and Jamie knew better than to take it as one. He slumped in defeat.

“Yeah. Probably.”

[sidekick-hero]

dying on your lips is how I wanna go (kiss me you animal)

(steddie | teen | 3.3k | @steddie-week | First Kiss | AO3)

Summary: Robin breaks her ankle and Steve's chance at a dance with Eddie at her wedding with it. Good thing there's always a second chance for true love.

Robin and Nancy's wedding was an emotional roller coaster for Steve, and he's not sure if he wants to kiss or curse Robin. At the moment, both sound equally good.

The day had begun with him wondering if he was going to die alone, probably after slipping in his bathtub and being found weeks later, already rotting away. The bittersweet ache of watching his best friend and platonic soulmate marry the woman he thought he'd marry someday had been hard to bear, and he'd been convinced he'd end the night drunk and sobbing on the bathroom floor.

Instead, Robin had given him the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. He knew the guy, Eddie, wasn't exactly a gift because Robin had hired the wedding band without a thought for Steve. Still, he'd like to think that deep down, she did it for him, and he could kiss her for it.

Eddie had checked all of Steve's boxes and had single-handedly created a few new ones as well. The dark, curly hair and big, soulful eyes had been what had first caught Steve's attention, followed by the mesmerizing way he played his guitar, talented, nimble fingers dancing across the strings that made Steve think about how he'd like them to play his body in the same way. And his voice. Steve could still feel heat spreading through his body at the thought of that voice.

But what had made Eddie different, truly different, wasn't the way he looked or his sinful voice. It was the way he cared. He had been so nice to Steve, so sweet and interested in him, his attraction obvious without being sleazy. No, he had made Steve feel seen, like he really wanted Steve and not just another pretty body. And yes, maybe Steve was as easy as some of his exes and one-night stands had told him, but in his book, that was enough to make the first butterflies tentatively flap their wings.

When Eddie's bandmate had called Eddie back to the stage to do his job, he had been disappointed, but then Eddie had come back and asked Steve to save a dance for him, promising him a later for which Steve was giddy to take him up on.

This is where his desire to curse Robin comes into play.

Because Robin was one of the smartest and bravest and most wonderful people he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he would die for her. But by God, whoever thought it was a good idea to let her drink and then dance a fast, upbeat song with Nancy should be slapped in the face, hard. Steve would even volunteer. Robin-actual-babygiraffe-Buckley was an uncoordinated mess when she was sober. Add several glasses of champagne on an empty stomach to the mix, and it was a wonder there hadn't been more casualties.

She and Nancy had been whirling around the dance floor in a flurry of flailing limbs, both dizzy and drunk, when Robin had tripped over her own feet, slammed into a table, and broken that table along with her ankle. Eddie had been there, right behind Steve, helping him dig Robin out from among the splintered wood, trinkets, and flower arrangements.

Eddie had examined Robin for injuries in a way that looked calm, collected, and competent, and Steve had swooned, forgetting for a second where they were and why.

"Is there anything you can't do?"

It just slipped out, adrenaline loosening his tongue, and Robin slapped his arm, offended.

"Could you please not flirt while I'm dying, Dingus?"

"You're not dying, birdie," Eddie chuckled, clearly amused by their banter and the way Steve seemed to have lost his brain-to-mouth filter. "But I'm afraid you're going to have to go to the emergency room, that ankle looks broken. Better get it looked at before it gets worse."

Steve looked at him with wide eyes. "How do you know how to do that?"

Eddie just shrugged his shoulders like it's no big deal, and that made Steve fall a little harder.

"Oh, y'know, I got beat up a couple of times in school, nothing bad, but you pick up a thing or two about injuries. Then we started playing in bars and clubs, but most of them wouldn't let us just play, they wanted money to get a spot, so I started helping out as a bouncer or bartender, and one part no one tells you about is taking care of drunks who get hurt," he looked down at Robin and smiled teasingly at her, "like birdie here. That was pretty impressive, I haven't seen that much broken in one go in a long time.”

Robin blushed, Nancy giggled, and Steve? Steve wondered how long he'd have to wait before he could ask Eddie to move in with him. Maybe after he took Robin to the emergency room, because he was pretty sure she'd kill him, soulmate or no soulmate, if he did it right now.

Steve scooped Robin up in his arms, earning a yelp from Robin and something that sounded almost like a Jesus Christ from Eddie.

He put her in his back seat, glad that his last champagne had been two hours ago. Nancy took the passenger seat and off they went. As he drove away, he saw Eddie getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. There went his dance and his bright future as a wedding band player's boyfriend.

They had kept Robin for a few hours, checking her out thoroughly at Nancy's vaguely threatening request. Steve called the wedding venue and told everyone that they wouldn't make it back, but that everything was paid for and they should enjoy it. Then he sat back down next to Nancy and waited.

Of course, Robin was fine. Her ankle was broken, but they told her it would heal nicely if she kept her weight off it for six weeks and wore an ugly looking boot. She was even given her own walker.

At 5am Steve fell into his own bad, face first and alone.

The next few days are spent in a moping haze. Steve knows he's being overly dramatic when he whines and pouts every time he goes over to Robin and Nancy's house to help Robin out when Nancy has to work, but he thinks he deserves it. Because something about Eddie had felt real in a way that nothing else had before, and as impossible and stupid as it sounds, he misses Eddie.

And that's why, he thinks, Nancy finally pulls him aside one night about a week after the wedding and asks him bluntly, "The wedding band singer, that's why you're so insufferable, isn't it?"

"Hey, if you don't want me here, I can--" he starts, sounding petulant to his own ears.

"Steve," Nancy cuts him off, that steely undertone in her voice that says she means business, "that's not it, and you know it. We want you here, always. But if I hear you sigh one more time, I will have to shoot you." She raises her eyebrow, waiting for him to interrupt or protest.

He doesn't.

"So I'll ask again. The wedding band singer?"

They stare at each other in silence, and it takes Steve a full 20 seconds or so before he gives in.

"Yeah, the wedding band singer," he sighs. "His name is Eddie."

"Oh, I know. We hired him. Which means I know his name, his full name, and his number and address." Looking into Steve's wide, surprised eyes, she adds affectionately, "Dingus.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie is just about to bite into his sandwich, flipping off Gareth's nagging voice in his head telling him that nine thirty is too late for dinner, when his phone vibrates.

Unknown number sent 09:32pm: I got your number from Nancy, I'm not a stalker

Unknown number sent 09:32pm: Or does this count as stalking

Unknown number sent 09:33pm: Shit

Unknown number sent 09:33pm: Oh God, please ignore this

Unknown number sent 09:37pm: This is Steve, by the way. From the wedding you played with your band last Saturday. I don't know if you remember, but we talked before Robin broke her ankle and I couldn't get your number so Nancy gave it to me, and I'm sorry if this is weird, I'll delete it if you want me to

Eddie bounced excitedly on his couch, his face aching from smiling down at his phone and his feet kicking. It's a good thing Gareth and Chrissy aren't home right now because they would make fun of him mercilessly. There was no one around to judge him for acting like a teenage girl with her first crush.

Once that was out of his system, he picked up his phone again and tapped out a reply, trying not to sound too eager, but showing Steve how happy he was to hear from him.

Eddie Munson sent 09:41pm: Course I remember you, Steve. You're hard to forget, believe me.

Eddie Munson sent 09:42pm: This isn't weird, I'm glad you did. How is Robin?

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 09:42pm: Okay, good, I'm glad too

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 09:43pm: Robin is fine, doctor said she'll be good as new in about 6 weeks

Eddie is glad to hear that, too. He had joked about it, but the accident had looked painful. Even though he's still bummed that they didn't get to have that dance, it's good that Steve took care of his friend and that she's going to be okay. Maybe they can have that dance after all. Just as he's about to type that, he sees three dots appear on the screen, indicating that Steve is still typing. They disappeared without a new message and reappeared after a few seconds, and after several times of disappearing and reappearing, another message from Steve popped up.

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 09:56pm: Listen, I know we only talked once, but I think you and your band are really great. And there's this fundraiser at my school, we're raising money for a new gym. Maybe you and the guys would be willing to help me out and do a benefit concert to raise more money?.

Eddie deflated. Steve hadn't written to ask him out, but to ask for help with his benefit concert. It was a good thing he hadn't suggested they make up for the lost chance at a dance.

Normally, Eddie wouldn't jump at the idea of playing a concert at a local high school - his old high school, in fact, as Steve and he had discovered during their conversation at the wedding - especially for free. But the thought of seeing Steve again, even if it wasn't like that, made him type an answer before he could talk himself out of it.

Eddie Munson sent 10:02pm: Thanks man, I'll tell the guys you said that. I'll have to check with them, but I'm sure we can swing it. Just send me the date.

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 10:04pm: Wow, that's great! Thanks, Eddie, really. It's next Friday, I thought we'd start the concert at 7pm, so if you could be there around 6:30 that would be great. Just ask for Steve Harrington.

Eddie sighed heavily. He can see Steve's excited face as if he were standing right in front of him and he could tell himself that it was the late dinner all he wanted, but the butterflies in his stomach were hard to misinterpret.

Fuck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve wants to kick himself for making a complete fool of himself as he lies in bed reading over his earlier conversation with Eddie. I'm not a stalker. Jesus Christ, Harrington, that's exactly what a stalker would say.

He's grateful that Eddie has been so nice about all of this. Not that he should be surprised, since Eddie had been nothing but nice and sweet during the wedding. Still, after getting off to a painfully awkward start, Steve couldn't bring himself to ask Eddie to dance, as he had planned. It would have just felt way too weird.

Good thing he remembered the fundraiser next Friday. Sure, he'll have to convince Joyce to allow a concert in the evening, something they hadn't planned, but he's pretty sure she'll be on board. Maybe he'll ask Eddie to go out to dinner or dancing afterwards.

Or both. He'd really like both.

‘In a few days I'll see him again, and this time I won't let him get away,' he thinks as he plugs in his cell phone and puts it on the nightstand.

Steve turns over and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fundraiser is a huge success, largely due to Nancy's impeccable planning skills and the combined efforts of all their friends, most of whom don't even work at the school.

Jonathan, another of Nancy's ex-boyfriends whom they all get along with, is manning the photo booth and his boyfriend, Argyle, is handing out homemade pizza. Their friend Will is drawing portraits for the kids and their parents, while Dustin is doing harmless but exciting science experiments and Lucas is managing the basketball court.

Robin sits at the table with the large donation box, collecting checks and bills and thanking everyone profusely for their contributions. Her walker and crutches are out in the open, and if people feel sorry for her and give a little extra, that's on them. The children will be happy about their new gym and will not care how it was paid for.

Steve, who herds the volunteers and students alike, can't help but look at his watch every few minutes. Robin stopped teasing him about it an hour ago and now just rolls her eyes at him half annoyed, half fondly. It's still not even 6 p.m., the same as it was ten minutes ago, the last time he checked.

He sighs, annoyed at both himself and the slow-moving clock hands, when a voice behind him says, "I heard someone requested a Live Aid worthy benefit concert?"

Steve whips his head around to find Eddie standing right behind him, dressed in ripped jeans and a printed shirt under a leather jacket and denim vest combo that made want pool in his stomach. Eddie in a tuxedo had been mouthwatering, but this? This was downright indecent, his jeans looking painted on and the jacket accentuating how tiny his waist looked compared to his shoulders. Screw dinner and dancing, he wants to take Eddie home. He might even ask him to leave the jacket on.

"Steve? Are you okay, man?"

Eddie's voice jolts him out of the dirty spiral his thoughts had been on and he blinks at him owlishly.

"Eddie, hey. Hi. You're early," Steve stutters, looking for the script, any script, that doesn't make him look like an idiot. "Not that that's a bad thing, not at all. I'm glad you're here."

Steve groans and rubs his hand over his face. Great. So fucking smooth. When he looks up, he catches Robin's eyes across the room and her eyebrow rises before she mouths 'You suck' at him.

"You know what they say, Stevie. A wizard is never late, nor early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

"That's Lord of the Rings!" Steve exclaims, snapping his fingers at Eddie in excitement. "Dustin made me watch it last Christmas, it's really good."

The smile he gets in return turns the tentative flapping of butterfly wings in his stomach into a storm.

"Glad you think so. They're my favorite movies of all time, I watch them at least once a year."

Before Steve can reply, 'Maybe next time we can watch them together,' another man appears next to Eddie, and Steve vaguely remembers seeing him with the rest of the band at the wedding.

He slaps Eddie's shoulder and tells Steve, "Don't believe a word he says. He watches it once a month." He extends a hand to Steve. "I'm Gareth, Eddie's band and roommate. Nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you, Steve."

Steve shakes Gareth's hand, catching the glare Eddie gives his friend out of the corner of his eye. He wonders what that's about.

"Thank you, Gare-Bear, for such a valuable contribution to my conversation. Don't you have something to do? Like, somewhere else, maybe?"

Gareth throws his head back and cackles at Eddie's put-upon expression, raising his hands in a placating yeah, yeah, yeah gesture.

"Me and the boys are going to get something to eat, call us when we can set up, yeah?"

Eddie waves his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I'll call you," before turning back to Steve and saying, "Ignore him. I do it all the time. So, Steve, my beneficiary, where do you want me?"

Everywhere but sucking you off in front of all these families will probably get me fired.

"Um -"

"For the concert? I wanted to check out the stage before I set up with the guys."

"Oh. Yeah, right. Follow me, I'll show you."

On the way to the stage Steve tries to get a grip on himself. What the fuck. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, like his skin was too tight and his stomach was churning with nerves.

As they pass the bleachers, Eddie speaks up from behind.

"Do you know how many times I walked by them and saw some jock or other making out with a cheerleader and made fun of them when all I really wanted was to be in their place?"

This makes Steve pause mid-stride and Eddie walks right into him, causing them both to stumble forward, holding on to each other to keep from falling over.

"Whoa, careful there, big boy, it feels like walking into a brick wall," Eddie chuckles, and it sounds nervous, his hands tightening on Steve's biceps. They're suddenly very close, noses almost touching, and Steve thinks he could drown in those bright brown eyes. He swallows convulsively, his head swimming with how much he wants to close the last few inches between them, and then he thinks, fuck it.

"I was a jock," he tells Eddie, eyes locking with his, wanting him to understand what he's putting out there.

Eddie's eyes widen, searching his for a long moment before he whispers, "Are you - Do you -" his voice devoid of all the assurance and bravado of earlier.

Steve may be slow on the uptake sometimes, but he knows when someone wants him.

"You want to cross out making out behind the bleachers with a jock from your bucket list?"

"Who says I didn't want to make out with the cheerleader?"

Steve licks his lips and Eddie's eyes immediately drop to follow the movement, so Steve just smirks and says, "Eddie? Shut up," and pushes him behind the bleachers, pinning him against the nearest beam and catching his lips in a bruising kiss.

Eddie's hands find their way into Steve's hair, gripping it in tight fists, and it stings in a way that makes his hips jerk forward, a gasp coming from his mouth that sounds more like a moan. Instead of using the opportunity to slip his tongue into Steve's willing mouth, Eddie uses his hands in Steve's hair to control the kiss, to make it slower, softer. Gentle. He moves his lips leisurely against Steve's, exploring their texture and shape before letting his tongue slip out to trace the pronounced dip of his Cupid's bow.

Steve melts into Eddie, surrendering himself as he sinks against his warm, inviting body. They kiss and kiss and kiss, the slide between their mouths getting wetter and hungrier.

"Fuck, I never thought I'd get to do this. You're a dream come true, Steve Harrington."

Steve dives back in, kissing him with everything he has, thinking, I never want to wake up.

[cosmicourple]

Hi, it’s me again. I made another Drabble as you can see but I’m kinda wondering if it’s alright for me to make a story from your au? It will take some time though, I don’t know how long but I won’t do it without your permission. Aside from that, here’s the Drabble, I hope you have a good day/night, take care ^^:

The cry of grief

Zeus circles around the shoreline below him, thunder clapping with each flap of his wings. He eyes down his target, a lone mortal watching as his ship sail away. Did they leave him to die? So much for a loyal crew, but they have good preservation.

The king of the gods can’t help but wonder on how to punish the fallen king. He could kill his crew right in front of him, but that seemed too easy and too light of a punishment for the mortal who slew one of Helios’ cattle. Truthfully, the god of the Sun would be the one giving out the punishment but according to him, something felt… Wrong. Dangerous even.

It was ultimately curiosity that drew Zeus in, wishing to see what about the pathetic man struck fear into Helios but even miles above in the sky, he could feel it. A simmering power, threatening to boil over and combust. Something unnatural that twists and snaps the law of the lands that paint the world, too weak to identify yet terrifyingly powerful enough to sense.

He has to look into this.

With a swoop downwards that no bird would survive doing, Zeus’s body becomes engulfed in lightning and struck down right in front of the king of Ithaca, inches away. His smile was wide, his presence dominating yet his eyes hide his true thoughts, veiled to assess the situation until the time comes to strike.

“Pride is a damsel in distress.” He started, watching as the king’s head hung low, body trembling. Though it is not of fear or shame he had noted in his mind before continuing. “Hiding away where only I can undress her. Try as she can not to confess-“

*SLAP*

Zeus blinked, his mind slow to register the blooming pain on his cheek. Did that mortal just-

He looked down and finally met the king’s eyes, full of anger, guilt and sorrow as though he had been deceived by someone he held most dear. Heavy tears rolled down his face, blending with the rainfall as the mortal hissed, ready to strike once again, “Shut up..! JUST SHUT UP YOU LIAR!!”

“Liar?!” Zeus repeated in offense, his hair raised through his fury at the accusation. “Have you gone mad since your encounter with Poseidon?!”

“Of course you won’t know… Of course..” The mortal muttered, a few broken laughs of disbelief slip away from his mouth. “What did I expect? Not even you could stop this! Why did I believe you?!”

Zeus held back a retort, his body crackling with electricity in a vain attempt to expel his anger. He would almost call this situation pitiful, a king driven mad during the tragedies to return home, believing something the god of the skies had never claimed. However, there was clearly something the mad mortal knew that he didn’t, things don’t add up and Zeus would not be satisfied with letting that be. Plus, if someone was perhaps impersonating king of Olympus himself, oh that won’t do.

“Tell me, Odysseus… What was it that ��I’ had claimed?” Zeus questioned, taking a step closer. He caught the man’s wrist with ease when he tried to slap him again, staring down at the crying mortal before him.

“What does it matter? You would not remember this…” Odysseus hissed, his pupils glistening with silver, the power inside him threatening to erupt. “Just like before, and even now… Eventually you’ll forget all of this.. you and everyone else won’t remember what will happen. Only I- I’m the only one who— damnit! Why did I call you a liar, when you aren’t even to blame?”

He sobbed, silver streaks split open around his face like the cracks found in old statues on the ends of their use. Those cracks travel around where his tears went down, extending downwards to his neck and free arm. The sand shifts in the violent winds, flowers wilt and grass grows simultaneously at different speeds. To Zeus’ horror, he finally recognised who this power really belonged to. “How did you-“

He summons a bolt of lightning to strike, but it fizzled away before it could even harm him. Odysseus jerks away, too lost in his grief to notice the danger that had latched onto him.

“Curse me, curse my heart that still loves.” Odysseus choked out, broken and defeated as he raised his sword to his heart. Zeus wants to reach out, to stop whatever he’s doing and cease his plans but his body would not respond, left unmovable even with the king of god’s best efforts. Odysseus locks eyes with him again, and it finally hit Zeus that there never was any pride to undress and find. Laid bare before him was pure grief; chaotic, erratic and mournful, calling for someone who is no longer there.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what I’m even doing.. Perhaps I am going mad, but it certainly wasn’t because of Poseidon.” Odysseus laughed, his smile wobbly as the tip of the blade starts to cut through his clothes. His voice cracks with anguish, only scraping the surface of the true depths to his plight, “I can’t do this anymore Zeus… I’m so tired… I’m sorry, you’re not a liar… I just- I missed the Zeus that I loved. And, he can’t come back…”

“What?…” Zeus could only stare, puzzled and confused as Odysseus gave him a look, one full of unrequited love and lamentation that had struggled to crawl out from the chaotic storm of his emotions. “Goodnight Zeus… And goodbye.”

The last thing Zeus heard was the sound of a clock coming to a halt, the world becoming silent as the grieving king plunged his sword through his heart.

The next time the king of the gods woke up, he continued on his day as though nothing was different. His confrontation with Odysseus, his promise to free him from his cage, all lost to the hands of time with only the king left to mourn the memories of what no longer had occured.

,,,,scrEECHES——-

DHJHFDD VBFGDSSSSGGTRE THE ANGST‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ THE TIMELOOP ROMANCE ANGST STRIKES AGAIN‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

OUTHIYHGUYGGGG NOOOO THIS ONES GOT A KICK TO IT😭😭 zeusseusangstzeusseusangstzeusseusangstzeusseusangstZEUSSEUSANGSTZEUSSEUSAN-

Augggggg—- srsly all of these drabbles r DI-VINE haha pun intended

Uwwwwwww- I post ‘bout my ideas 4 this A.U & u ALWAYS deliver on taking them n making stuff out of it kfgghtessfgffdd speaking of-

YESYESYESYESYESYESYES OH MY GODS YES PLEASE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

YOU’D ACTUALLY MAKE SOMETHING OUT OF THIS????!?!!?!!!!!!?!!! BY MY PERMISSION!!?!??!!!!!?!!!????!!??!!??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 OF COURSE🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ GO WILD WITH THIS A.U IDEA PLEASE😭😭😭😭😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

HJHFVDVDFDFDF GDSE I’ve said this enough but I love ALL of these omg igfdfsfdd ty so much 4 contributing to this A.U aaaaaa I feel so good knowing ppl like my weirdo! brain stuff <3333