#and it is hard being a teenage girl and comfortable about your body and sexuality and mind and yourself whatsoever which i understand but

[the-annoying-mom-friend]

to begin this I'm not trying to be a hater and I'm especially not trying to be a hater of the queer media that we have been getting this summer/will be getting this fall because it is really important BUT it'd be great if the queer media we always talk about would more often be about sapphics

[butchpillowprince]

Freshly manufactured butch again, and thank you for the answer before!! Would you actually have some advice for newly identified butches? Things you wish someone would have told you years ago when you first started out?

Thanks again!

You're welcome, and thanks for stopping by again! :) I love this question.

My advice for my past self when I was first transitioning toward androgyny/masculinity:

When you spend months dwelling on whether or not to cut your hair short, that's your sign to cut off all your hair. Do it.

Ditch your women's clothes, especially the pants (no pockets) and the panties (ugh) and the bras (barf). It's okay to embrace your natural chest and just wear sports bras. One day you'll even wear a binder and make yourself flatter. Remember when you were a feminine teenage girl and your flat chest was your biggest insecurity? Yeah. Now you love it. :) And you're not a girl, lol.

Buy the bowties and neck ties. The men's dress shirts and shoes. When it's time for your next wedding, go to a tailor for your first suit. Life is short, get the rainbow hair for Pride. Your first relationship won't last, but being in butch4butch love, even fleeting, will change and heal you. Your first butch4butch hookup will too. And no, they won't be the same person, sorry.

Read George's Boi. Explore your butch4butch sexuality. When George's Boi inspires you to write erotica, fucking go with it.

Queer community will also heal you. Keep seeking it out even when you don't find it in certain cities or spaces. Be yourself. Explore yourself. Question your gender. Try new names and pronouns if the idea tickles your fancy. Even if you end up being cis at least you reflected on yourself, and who knows, maybe you'll learn something new about you.

Butch community is hard to find but surprisingly easy to build. When you have ideas for a new butch project, just do it. Make it happen and you'll watch friends and community appear beside you.

It's okay to not be hypermasculine or the butchest butch in the room. Embrace the masculinity that is authentic and comfortable for you. Don't feign interest in hobbies or drinks or mannerisms that aren't really yours, don't worry over measures of physical strength or ability, don't feel pressure to top during sex exclusively or even at all, don't worry about not fitting a certain body type or stereotype. You're butch which means you're another beautiful iteration of butchness. And, it's okay to stop calling yourself "soft butch" because you feel like you're not butch enough to just claim the word "butch" alone. You are butch. You are. You are. You are.

I'm proud of you. Welcome home.

[wrestletotheground]

settle down - ross macdonald x reader

summary: you and ross are staying in your old house with your family for the weekend, but you find it hard to keep quiet when everyone's asleep...

wc: 1.9k

cw: 18+ minors dni!!! f!reader, angst, fluff, smut, dom!ross, 'good girl', fingering, gagging, slight degradation, choking kink, d word bc i can't help myself, spit, general filth tbh x

'i can't believe i'm actually about to sleep in the bed you grew up in,' ross says, shaking his head in disbelief as he pulls off his tshirt, climbing into bed beside you. 'I can't believe you've spent the day with my insane parents and are willing to stay here for two whole nights', you reply with a giggle.

your parents had been tormenting you to have him over for dinner ever since you moved in together a month ago, claiming you were both in need of a decent meal and a break from dirty dishes.

you'd finally agreed to go back and stay for the weekend. obviously ross got on well with your family as they'd met countless times before, but having him stay over, sleeping in your childhood room, feels daunting. as if it's the final layer he has to go through to know every part of you inside and out.

your parents are well asleep by now, having gone upstairs just before you and ross. with the emptiness in the living room, you'd straddled his lap, grinding into him softly as you littered kisses down his neck.

his heavy breathing was an indicator of how worked up he was getting, although it was less sexual and more passionate, a simple display of your love for each other. shortly after, you'd both gone up to get ready for bed, lovesick and giggly.

~

darkness floods the room with a click as you turn off the old pink lamp beside your bed.

'goodnight baby,' you say to ross as he presses a loving kiss to your temple. 'night sweetheart,' he murmurs, letting his hand fall down to your stomach as he settles his head into the pillow beside you. the warmth of his body is comforting and strong beside you, but your thoughts are elsewhere.

a wave of intense emotion starts to take over as you lie awake staring at the ceiling, your mind racing. the nostalgia of being in the room you grew up in is making your head flood with memories of long sleepless nights spent in this exact place. many a night were filled with tears and hopelessness, going through things no young girl should ever even have to think about. you're doing so much better now, having created a new life and a new home for yourself with your perfect fiancé. your eyes brim with fresh tears as you lie mourning the lost teenager that once sat here. you wish you could give her a hug and tell her that it truly does get better.

you take a deep breath to calm yourself, before shakily placing your hand over ross's, needing him close to you. the feeling of him beside you relaxes you, it always does. you can't help the flutter of arousal that runs through you at the pressure of his hand weighing down on your lower abdomen.

his eyes open suddenly, flicking up towards you. you didn't even think he was still awake with how sleepy he'd been only moments beforehand. you snap your eyes shut, as if that would trick him.

'baby, are you okay? what's wrong?' he asks sleepily. he props himself up on his elbow and brings a hand to your face to caress your cheek gently.

you turn to face him. 'yeah, I'm just- it's okay, don't worry, I'll be fine. just need you close to me'. 'darling, what's up? talk to me'. his voice is laced with concern and you silently curse his ability to read you like a book at all times.

'I was just.. thinking about how happy I am now, compared to how it was when I was younger. I used to think I was- I don't know, broken. but everything has gotten better since I met you, and not to be too sappy but I'm so glad I get to make happier memories here with the love of my life'.

'god you're making me emotional too, love,' he smiles and kisses you gently. 'I love you, and im so glad we found each other.' you look into his eyes adoringly and smile. 'i love you too', you reply.

you settle down into each other, ross lying on his side with his arm across you. the ache between your legs is still there, but you decide to close your eyes and try get some sleep.

until his hand begins to rub up and down your thigh, inching further and further up with each stroke before he rests it on your hip, fingertips rubbing in light circular motions dangerously close to where you need him.

you need him to fuck you so badly, but the risk of being heard is so high. you know you wouldn't be able to control yourself with the way you melt into him as he worships you.

'mmh ross, we can't, not here', you mumble, instinctively leaning into his touch despite your words. 'why not?' he asks, smirking up at you as he presses light kisses down your neck. 'i want to but my parents are next door, the walls in this house are like paper.'

he lifts his head up, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear. 'well you'll have to be quiet then won't you, love?' he whispers, dipping his hand under the waistband of your underwear. you exhale sharply as his fingers graze over your clit, instantly making you wet. 'fuck,' you breathe, squeezing your thighs in around his hand. 'ah ah, you're gonna take it like a good girl aren't you?' he says softly, grabbing your leg closest to him and pulling it up over his to give him more access.

you writhe under him as his two middle fingers continue to swipe lazily up and down, stopping suddenly. 'aren't you?' he says again, his eyes stern. 'yes- mmh- i'll be good,' you whimper desperately, earning a grunt of approval. 'there we go, relax darling, let me look after you', he replies.

the endless band posters and picture frames that cover the walls seem to be watching on in silent judgement, making you hyper aware of where you are. to be honest, the immorality and risk of it all is just making you more turned on, more desperate for him than ever.

he traces your soaked entrance teasingly before slipping his middle finger in to the knuckle, making you gasp, your back arching into him. 'shh, you said you'd be good,' he mutters, curling his finger inside you and stroking upwards. your eyes roll into your head at the heavenly sensation.

he doesn't waste time before adding another and you can't help the sound that spills from your throat, louder than you expected. he stills inside you, your slick dripping down his fingers. your heart pounds in your chest as you meet his eyes, looking down at you with a heavy gaze.

'if you're not quiet I'll give you something to whine about and we don't want that do we?' he's practically growling at you, making you like putty in his hands. 'n-no, please, daddy' you whine under your breath. the magic word. his breath hitches and his eyes roll back into his head. 'fuck, there's my girl', he whispers, his eyes snapping back to yours instantly.

with that, he starts moving in and out, dipping his fingers in as deep as they can go and drawing them back again in quick, fluid motions. obscene sounds break the silence of the room, barely noticeable above the haze of pleasure taking over your body.

your walls pulse around him, enhancing the feeling even more. he throws his right leg up over yours, holding your legs open for him. he curls his fingers inside you, using his thumb at the same time to press into your clit, hard. you have to hold your breath to suppress the scream that's lingering in the back of your throat, coming out in a pathetic barely audible whimper as you exhale.

his other hand creeps around the back of your head, never slowing his rhythm between your thighs. he reaches your mouth and covers it tightly with his whole palm, muffling any more noises you would've let out. suddenly he shoves three digits into your mouth, making you gag as they hit the back of your throat. you close your lips around them and start sucking, swirling your tongue around and coating him in spit, never breaking eye contact. he groans softly, flashbacks filling his mind of how your mouth feels around his cock.

your mouth hangs open as he hits the deep part inside you and your eyebrows furrow, hips bucking into his hand in time with his movements. he's fucking you hard and fast, pinning you to the mattress.

'ross, I can't - mfh- fuck, i'm -' you start, although it comes out muffled and strained around his fingers that are still deep in your mouth. the vibration of your voice goes straight through his hand, the sensation making him feral.

'one more fucking word from you and you're never going to finish do you hear me?' he whispers aggressively, eyes stern. you nod your head in silent response, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

he takes his fingers out of your mouth, dragging his soaked hand down to your neck and presses in on either side just below your jaw, all the while his fingers are working you to your core. you bite your lip as you gaze up at him, completely at his mercy and loving every second of it.

he reaches a particularly deep spot inside you that makes your stomach coil. your head is spinning, face scrunched up in excruciating pleasure, on the brink of the peak you've been desperately chasing as his strokes get quicker and more precise.

'please...' it's barely a whisper, more of a breathy plea for him to let you come. 'let go. let me fucking feel you all over me. pretty. little. slut.' each word is punctuated by a hard thrust into you, the final one sending you over the edge.

your vision turns to white and you clasp a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming, your hips rolling into his hand as you ride out your high. his hand that's now drenched, warm honey dripping down onto his palm.

you exhale sharply as he pulls his fingers out, bringing them up in front of you and spreading the two middle ones that were curling inside you moments ago. a wet string of your arousal connects them at the knuckle and you watch him dazedly. he drags them almost reluctantly towards his mouth, as if he didn't want to stop looking, and runs his tongue up the wide v shape, collecting your juices into his mouth.

it's a filthy sight that leaves you awestruck. he smirks at you as you lie gazing at him, being broken out of your lustful trance when he leans in to kiss you. as soon as your lips part his mouth is hovering above yours as he taps your jaw lightly. you open your mouth wider and he takes his chance to slowly spit into your mouth. the taste of the two of you is warm and feral and addictive.

he whispers again, breath ghosting over your lips. 'good girl'. you're too flustered to respond with words, so you slide your hand up around the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. tongues moving languidly against each other. it's loving and soft, a stark contrast to what he was like moments ago, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

~

[charlie-lec-stories]

Everything happens for a reason // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Stroll!Sister

Summary: After a whole life of following her father's orders, Y/N's tired of being the good girl and when she finally stood up for herself with the help of her best friend, all hell broke loose.

Warnings: Sexual comments and scenarios, cheating, strong vocabulary.

Author’s Note: Well guys, gals and non-binary pals, you know I love messy stories, this is no exception. Rate: +18 (adult content)

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"UGHHHHHH". Y/N couldn't help but laugh out loud when her brother, Lance, sat down beside her, grunting as if it was the hardest thing his body had done in 20 years.

"Really, Lance, was it really that hard? Are you that old?". She rolled her eyes as the boy fixed his position on the roof, making sure that he wouldn't fall off. They had the tradition of sitting on the roof of their mansion after dinner and before bed time. They had an hour before the staff would start looking for them, the only time they could be normal and not billionaires.

"I'm not old, it was that hard, some of us train, you know. Not everyone is naturally gifted at driving cars". She laughed again. Even though her brother tried to act annoyed with her great driving, he was actually proud of her.

"I'm not that good". She lied, but he shook his head, then let it rest on her shoulder, getting comfortable next to her under the blanket she had. Her hand went to his hair, lovingly running her fingers through the locks.

"Don't lie. Gees, I'm not ever sure who you got that from, because dad sucks". She felt his body shake as he giggled at his own comment. "That old man may love racing but God knows he should never touch a steering wheel".

"Hey, don't be like that, he's an average driver...". Lance moved his head up to give her a pointed look. "He is!... When it comes to tennis karts he is". They stayed silent for a moment before bursting out laughing so hard that they got worried someone might have heard.

"Okay, okay, enough with roasting the old man". Lance said once they calmed down. He resumed his position close to her and changed the subject. "Are you excited for the new season? I mean, you have a real chance this time, sis".

"Carlos said the same". She said, sighing and looking into the horizon. The sun was setting and the sky had that perfect shade between pink and purple, it was lovely, it made her feel at peace.

"Well, we are right. I'm always right, as you obviously know, and Carlos is your best friend, he could never lie to you, that's illegal". Y/N smile, that was true, her best friend was the most honest person she had ever met, and if there were two people in the world she trusted with her life, those were Lance and Carlos.

"Speaking of Carlos, I have something to tell you about this season". Lance could feel the tension in her voice so he fixed his position again, showing her that he was giving her his full attention. "Nelson, you know, the PR guy, he told me that I have to get into a PR relationship. He gave me two options: Carlos or Leclerc. Of course, I chose Carlos. I'd rather fake-date my best friend than Charles-stupid-Leclerc".

"You should let go of that anger, your beef with Charles was years ago, he's a nice guy". Lance rolled his eyes at his sister. Y/N and Charles fought after a karting race when they were 16 and never got along after that. He was unnecessarily mean to her and she always over-reacted. But to be fair to Charles, she did say to him that he had a small penis in front of the whole grid, and that can be really harmful for a teenage boy. The fact that everyone knew that they had hooked up once only made the accusation seem more reliable, humiliating Charles even more in front of their peers. To add to the feud, Y/N called him "Peanut" and he called her "Matagot", which is basically a south-french mythology monster that only treats you well if you keep it well-fed, otherwise it can be your biggest nightmare. It was Charles' way of calling her a spoiled brat, that only cares for others when she can get something in return.

"He's not nice. But I don't want to talk about him, I want advice. I have never been in a PR relationship before and you have. It's pretty uncomfortable to have to do this with Carlos, but I have to make it work".

Lance and Y/N spent their hour talking, he gave her advice on what to do and how to keep the friendship strong after having to be all over each other in public. It was going to be awkward, but her contract said that there were things she had to do to get a better public image and Carlos was a great way to keep things interesting. Drive to Survive, the Netflix series about the sport needed something to talk about, and a relationship between two drivers from different teams was perfect, and that's how she ended up trapped with a PR relationship. Around 10 pm, they got down the roof and made their way to their rooms. Before bed, Y/N checked her phone and found a text from her best friend.

Chili-man: Hey kiddo! I know that this is going to be awkward, but remember that we're best friends first, if you ever feel uncomfortable, you let me know and I'll do everything to help out. Okay?

Y/N: Thanks Chili-man. I love to know that you're always on my corner. You're the best. And the same goes for you. It's gonna be weird, but at least I'm not fake-dating Peanut.

Chili-man: Don't be mean, he's a nice guy.

Y/N: You and my brother need to stop being such Leclerc's advocates, I'm sure he can pay his own defense lawyers, you guys don't need to do it for free. Anyways, good night and I'll see you tomorrow for the first day!

Chili-man: I promise he's not that bad. But whatever. Sleep tight kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of her father shouting and her mother begging him to lower his voice. Still half asleep, she walked to the door and cracked it open. Outside, she saw Lance peeking out of his own room and after sharing a puzzled look, they moved their attention to their father. He was at the end of the hall, at the door of his room, their mother was pulling at his arm, trying to pull him into the room without success. It was strange to say the least, that their mother interfered with their father's affairs, she had her own business to worry about, but she seemed actually worried about the discussion their father was taking part in over the phone.

"I SAID NO. I don't care about the numbers, I don't care about the stupid show. She's not dating Carlos Sainz Jr. She'll do that over my dead body!". Both Lance and her looked at each other. Why was he so upset? He loved the Sainz; he had been friends with Carlos Sainz Sr. for as long as they could remember. "I DON'T CARE IF IT'S FAKE".

"Honey, please, they'll hear you". Their mother tried to calm him down, but he was furious.

"THEN USE LECLERC, BUT SHE'S NOT DATING CARLOS AND THAT'S MY FINAL WORD". She definitely didn't like that last statement. Her father hung up and stormed into his room. It was her turn to be upset, she didn't want to date Charles Leclerc, fake or for real, it was a nightmare both ways. A little later that morning she tried to convince her father in her favor, but he was so angry that it was impossible to make his change his mind. Carlos texted her mid-day, while she was on the jet on her way towards Bahrain, asking her what happened and why his PR team told him that he was replaced by Charles. She didn't want Carlos to feel bad or inadequate in the eyes of her father, so she lied and said that she had no idea and that as soon as she had an answer for that, she would tell him. When she made it to Sakhir, she was told to leave her luggage at her room and then go back to the lobby so she could wait for a car there with Nelson. They had to meet with Charles and his team to discuss the details of the arrangement. It was a quiet car ride, Nelson was aware of what she thought of Charles and that the change had not been her decision, so he let her off the hook for a few minutes.

"Welcome, Miss Stroll, please have a seat". Kathy, Charles' PR head of the department greeted her when they made it to the hotel where Ferrari was staying. The room they used for the meeting was a last time arrangement, but it had space and it made her feel better, considering how bad things could get once Charles arrived.

"Thank you". She sat down on the couch and Kathy handed her a glass of water. They didn't have to wait much before Charles walked through the door. If it wasn't for her being completely aware of how much of a prick he was, she was sure that she could fall at his feet over and over again every time she saw him. He was the most handsome man on Earth, she knew that, but he was also aware of that so it posed a problem for her.

"Sorry I'm late, I wanted to shower after the flight". He sat on the bed of the room and looked at Y/N when she scoffed.

"Thank you for that! Now the only thing that stinks in this room is your shitty personality". Charles growled. They spent less than two minutes together, 2 meters apart, and they were already at each other's throats.

"I told you this was not gonna work". He told Kathy. "She's a spoiled little shit and I can't stand her close to me. The feeling is obviously mutual, why force this?".

"Because you're the perfect marketing option and it's our job-". Kathy pointed between her and Nelson. "- to make you both a selling machine. So you'll both make it work or your teams will reduce money from your salaries for breaching your contracts".

"That's not fair. I need my money and this Matagot doesn't give two shits about her contract, her Daddy is a billionaire, you're giving her all the power in the world over me!". Charles complained. He knew that she didn't need the money, she could make his life a living hell without a problem and he would have to take it all like a good boy not to lower his income.

"Suck it up, Peanut. Compensate that small pecker of yours by being the bigger person!". She was enjoying the moment.

"The itinerary is long. Read it, learn it and follow it". Nelson explained to ease up the tension. "Remember to be caring and loving, but do not overdo it. Kiss once in a while, hold hands while you walk together. We'll take care of the interviews and the press. Act the part for Netflix and we'll help you with the conflict for the show-".

"We don't need help with conflict". Charles interrupted.

"We need conflict, not first degree murder, Charles". Kathy sent them a stern look as she let the comment out and both drivers looked at their laps.

"Okay, I got it all. Can I go now?". She wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

That night she texted Carlos, and he told her something interesting: His PR team and his father told him to put some distance with her. They were both surprised, since when did their parents dislike the idea of them being friends? They had been friends their whole lives, close since they remembered. They were like siblings, why couldn't they be friends anymore? They understood the whole PR thing, that she needed to sell and that there was drama that had to occur between her and her fake boyfriend, but why did it all have to happen with Carlos at an arms' length? It was weird and she needed to know. It was hard enough that her father had controlled her whole life, she was already old enough to make her own decision. Why did he care so much about her friends? It wasn't like she was going to date Carlos for real. Carlos had his own questions, he was almost 30, his father was stepping over a line trying to control his life like that, but he respected his old man and he was going to listen, as long as the decision didn't prove to be hurtful for his best friend.

"I'm not kissing you". She said as soon as she met Charles at the lobby of her hotel. They were supposed to show up together for the first day at the paddock. Of course, she wanted to make it difficult for him. "I'm not doing the same stupid shit twice".

"You don't have to do me this time, Matagot". Charles hissed at her. "Plus, it's not like I will enjoy it so shut up and make this easy for everyone".

"I said-". But he cut her off with his lips over hers. As fast as he did it, he pulled away and before she could say anything, he was practically dragging her to his car.

The day went by incredibly slowly, but at some point she became numb to holding hands and kissing with Charles. They would kiss and she would instantly start talking about something racing related, like Lance suggested she do to get rid of the awkwardness. Charles seemed okay with that. What was actually bothering her more was the fact that she spent the whole day without talking to Carlos. Charles noticed her looking for his teammate a few times but decided to ignore the raging fire it started inside his veins. He hated the idea that he had to date her, but he dated more the idea of her dating Carlos. He wasn't surprised when Carlos told him that he was going to date Y/N as a PR stunt, what surprised Charles was that they weren't actually dating for real. He could never understand why the Spaniard would refuse to date a woman like her. Charles found Y/N the most amazing woman, when she was nice, and she was definitely nice to Carlos. The older man explained that he never felt like that about her and it never made sense to Charles, after all, he did feel that way about her when she used to be nice to him. But that was a decade ago, and she had never been nice once to him since that time. Still, he felt pleased that Carlos wasn't a threat. She may have looked around for him, and liked him over Charles, but he didn't reciprocate her feelings, so Charles was safe. He was torn between a need for her to love him and constant reaction of disgust to everything she said.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Peanut? There are no cameras here". She said when he appeared at her room door.

"We need to talk". He made his way inside the room and she sighed, already too tired to complain.

"What do you want to talk about?". He sat on her bed and she went to the couch, not wanting to be near him.

"Do you like Carlos?". He decided that dancing around the question was pointless and she was kind of thankful that he cut to the chase.

"That's none of your business, Charles"

"Well, but we are fake dating, and he's my teammate, so I need to know". Lie, that wasn't the real reason, and she knew, but she let it slide.

"I don't like Carlos that way". She saw the accusatory look on his face and explained further. "We're best friends. Something happened. I don't know what. I think our fathers may have something to do with it. He told me that we can't hang out much for now. It's weird".

"Does this have anything to do with us getting together?". 'Failed act', Freud would say.

"We're not together Charles, we can't stand each other". He could pick up on her tired tone, maybe it was the right time to finally get her out of her shell.

"We used to. I remember that time. We had a great moment". But what he thought was going to be a comment that made her happy, completely backlashes at him.

"A great moment?! That's what it was for you? Just a great time?". She stood up, tears at the corners of her eyes and Charles suddenly felt the need to get up and hold her. He didn't, though. "That's why you just simply walked out and ignored me then? Because I was just another good time for you?"

"What? No, how did you even get there?! I never said that!". Now he was the one in a defensive mood.

"Your actions speak better than your words. You ignored me, after everything we did together, after how vulnerable I was with you. I gave you my virginity and you simply threw me away!". She was fully on crying and Charles just could take it anymore, he got up and pulled her to his body, hugging her as tightly as he could.

"I was embarrassed. I felt like I did it like shit. I was stupid and had zero experience. I came so fast because I liked you so much. I thought I let you down". He wasn't sure if she heard him, his words muffed by her hair and his sobs. "I thought you had not enjoyed that moment as much as I did and it was embarrassing, because I loved every second of it. I wanted to talk to you but your parents kind of scared me off from the house the next morning. It felt like I had done everything wrong. Then we saw each other at the race and you were so cold that I believed I was right. You then said those things... I- I just didn't know what to do".

"I shouldn't have said that. I was hurt and felt humiliated, I was wrong". She was grabbing at him as tightly as he was at her.

"We both were". He kissed her head and they broke apart. "I never stopped thinking about you. I always wondered what we could have been...". He let that linger in the air, the possibility. She took his hand and led him to the bed. Her actions spoke better than her words.

They woke up the next morning to someone pounding on the door. Charles quickly fell asleep again, but Y/N got up to tell the person at the other side to get lost. She was surprised when she found Carlos on the other side. The man didn't even say hi, he walked into the room, pushing her inside with him and slamming the door shut. The noise woke Charles up again, this time he did get up, furious when he noticed that his teammate was grabbing his girlfriend's arms with a python's grip. Carlos looked worried, but it was mixed with a bit of anger and something else Charles couldn't decipher. It wasn't until he spoke up that Carlos actually noticed his presence.

"What the fuck are you doing?!". The monegasque walked towards him, and Carlos noticed the lack of clothing, the black Calvin Klein's hanging from Charles' hips were the only thing keeping him decent.

"You two...". He suddenly smiled. "It was about time. A decade. Never met two people this slow".

"You're on thin ice, mate". Charles said, sternly.

"Then you're not going to like what I'm going to say next". Carlos took a deep breath. "I need us to fake-date, Y/N. I want to pressure my father. I think he's planning on setting me up with someone. But if he thinks we're dating even though he said no, he'll leave me alone". She looked at Charles, he didn't seem happy with the idea, but she also wanted to find out why her father was so against Carlos so suddenly.

"If- IF I do it, do you think we can make it happen sometime when both our parents are there?". Charles looked down at her frowning. "Remember last night, when I told you that I didn't know what happened? I want to find out".

"I don't know, mon Ange". She took his hand and his face relaxed a bit. He used to call her that, when they were younger, it felt right.

"I need to know, something feels off. This is the reason why we are together now. Over ten years of history fixed by one phone call by my father". He let out the breath he was holding, she was right. "Please, everything happens for a reason, Charlie".

"Okay, let's do this".

They had to wait until after the race. Carlos Sr. and Lawrence, Lance and Y/N’s father, were sitting at the hotel restaurant, chatting with frowns on their faces. Carlos and Y/N held hands and walked towards them, Charles following them close behind. He had a part in the plan, and he was ready to execute it perfectly, even if it was harder for him to act mad at Y/N now that they had made up. The older men looked up at their children when the three drivers approached them. To say that they looked horrified would be an understatement. Carlos Sr. seemed about to throw up, while Lawrence was simply shocked. The first part of the plan was done, keeping the element of surprise. Now to phase two: the lie itself. They sat at the table, Carlos in the middle of Charles and Y/N, his hand interlocked with hers resting on the table so their fathers could see them. It took the older men a moment to get the color back to their faces, but when they did, Lawrence went from white to red in a second.

"What the hell is this?". He asked, trying to keep the little cool he had left.

"We're dating, Mr. Stroll. We wanted you both to know". Carlos was the oldest, he took the lead.

"You can't". Carlos Sr. said with his voice rough thanks to the lump in his throat.

"That's not your decision, Dad". Everything was going as expected, but they had to admit that their fathers did look more disturbed than they had foreseen.

"It is. You won't date Carlos, you will date Charles as it was planned by the PR team and I don't want to hear anything else about it". That was Charles’ cue.

"I won't date her if she's in love with my teammate. We can barely stand each other, I won't get stuck into this mess for her". It hurt, but he had to say it like that. The other two didn't budge, and they had to pull out the last resort they had to press their fathers' buttons. Y/N saw their mothers walking to the table, so she took Carlos by the chin and started to get closer to him, ready to kiss him. Before they could make contact, Carlos Sr. was pushing them away.

"You can't do that, don't do that". He was almost losing it.

"Why?". She whispered, her eyes looking into his and a chill ran down her spine.

"You're half-siblings". It was Lawrence who said it. There was a long list of options that Carlos and Y/N had made of what could have happened, being siblings was not on the list.

"What?". Charles was as stunned as them. Lawrence and Carlos Sr. sighed and rested against the backs of the seat. Their wives, paralyzed behind them, were still unnoticed by the rest of the table.

"I had an affair with Lawrence's assistant. Of course your mother didn't know about it". Carlos Jr. had an expression impossible to read as his hand gripped Y/N tightly. "She got pregnant, asked me to leave your mother. I refused. She had the baby, Y/N. But then she got postpartum depression. She killed herself three weeks after giving birth".

"Y/N, you mother had just lost a pregnancy, no one knew, I found you in that house, alone, crying. It was the chance to give your mother a baby after the one she lost". Lawrence continued.

"You had the power and money to make it happen". Charles was officially angry, and it wasn't even his identity on the line. "What did you do with her mother? Where is she buried?".

"She was cremated. I took care of everything. I gave her the best there is". Carlos Sr.'s wife was looking at Lawrence's with pain in her eyes. She knew, all this time she knew that they were raising her husband's offspring and she hid it from her.

"Why did you let us become friends?". It was Carlos Jr.'s time to ask. 

"I wanted to keep in contact with her, watch her grow. You two got along so well, she ended up liking racing too. Everything led to you two in my life". Carlos Sr. let a few tears free. "Ten years ago, we considered letting you know the truth".

"Your mother and I discussed it, but then we saw that Charles was in the house, we kind of got rid of him to talk to you, but then you looked so upset. You got disqualified from the race for fighting with Charles. We understood that you were going through a lot, so we desisted". Lawrence added.

Carlos Jr.'s mother made her presence known and the three drivers took the chance to run away from the situation, knowing that the argument the two couples had was going to be too much to witness. The three ran to Y/N's room, crossing paths with Lance on their way there. Telling Lance that his sister was not his biological sister was one of the worst conversations they had. But they were all victims of so much, they found solace in sharing the tears together. They refused their parents' calls for the night, sending a text explaining that they needed time and that they would reach out when they felt like it. The four of them stayed in the room, chatting and calming themselves down. The irony of it all struck Y/N like a lighting and she couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny, mon Ange?". Charles asked and then kissed the back of her hand.

"If my parents hadn't scared you off that morning, we would have never discovered the truth". She explained, but her brothers didn't follow. "Charles walking out on me that morning is the reason why we fought that day in the race. Because of the fight in the race, we started hating each other. Because of the rivalry, I choose to fake-date Carlos instead of Charles. Because of my choice, Dad made the call and everything else followed".

"So, if you and Charles had made up that day...". Carlos started.

"We would have probably been together today, no need for PR, no need for your fathers to say anything".  Charles finished. All four laughed softly. "I was so sad that things didn't work out back then".

"Everything happens for a reason".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay, this is a LONG ASS STORY, sorry guys for not posting in months, I've been so caught up with work I literally thought I could get fired, but I had some time to edit this one. I hope you liked it. Remember to like, comment, reblog and all those beautiful things you do.

[xmimikyuusx]

I'm here on my soapbox in defense of the teenaged girls who love yaoi to trans men pipeline get ready. I'm speaking for the heart so excuse me if I sound silly

(If t/rfs see this post, before touching it: consider choking on my nuts)

Growing up, especially in adolescence, I (and probably most people perceived as women around that age) struggled not only with feeling objectified by other people and society at large, but simultaneously, living with a strange relationship to wanting to feel attractive to others. It had been ingrained in me that because I wasn't performing my agab hard enough (to the impossible standard that was every piece of media about women) that I was undesirable. In a very weird way, that is; you're an undesirable woman because you're ugly, you're fat, you can't afford makeup or fancy clothes and wearing them makes you feel like shit. However, if all else failed, you could still be "used" by someone. Maybe I would never be loved, but at least, even if it was hell, someone would find a "use" for me as a sexual object, if I performed feminity just enough.

It all sounded awful. Really, really awful. I remember every time someone would hit on me, would oggle my body, it was humiliating. Even being bisexual, I felt this awful ache in any relationship I was in where I was someone's handbag, I was something for them to have. But at least someone wanted me.

Then, I grew up, and I transitioned. And a whole new world of getting shit on awakens. Because now, I'm nowhere near performing feminity enough. I'm blatantly undesirable. The disgust that comes for trans men's bodies, especially early in transition, is night and day. You're not masculine enough, you're not feminine enough, you're an ugly girl who thinks they can get away from it all if you change your pronouns, which makes you even more pathetic and disgusting in the eyes of people who see you as an object to be desired.

And being told, over and over, that the changes you wanted, the neck hair and the patchy stache and the body hair and the smell of your own sweat that gets stronger as your voice drops, the things that make you happy, they're disgusting, it's another layer of hell after you grew up going through the last five. You felt rejected and outcast before, but now you're something that people don't even want to use, unless they can make you go back to being a woman.

No man looks like you. Except. In fucking yaoi. You get short, vaguely feminine men, who are desired in a positive way. You see men who are allowed to cry and be emotional, and it's seen as a good thing. You see men who can be an equal to their partner, that even if they're short, they're not as strong as other men, they struggled with being taken seriously or are even hurt by people who see them as something that can be used, but they get their happy ending. He gets comfort and love for someone who sees his feminity and finds him attractive without saying these unchagable attributes negate his status as a man. You see this man, who feels like you, being loved, and being able to love, and it's life changing.

You can be a man even if you're feminine. Even if you're short. Even if you couldn't win in a fight if someone attacked you. I'm not saying trans men are always all of these things, but fuck, for me, seeing representation for short effeminate men being loved and valued without being maliciously feminized is fucking impossible outside of gay manga. It helped me so much reading theaw things, seeing what bits of myself I could and knowing that if other people were writing and drawing this, maybe I could be worthy of love, not despite my body, but including it.

I fucking love reading manga with effeminate gay men in it because it feels like me. If other media started giving us short gay men, I'd be more interested, but manga/yaoi has it as a damn staple. Representation is media is life changing. Seeing someone who looks like you when you feel like you're all alone is so fucking important.

If you're going to complain about trans men reading yaoi and wanting to become that, eat shit. I'll become whatever I want for whatever reason makes me happiest. This has made me happy, incredibly, very happy, and has been something I can bond over with other trans men and my partner. You can stay bitter and disgusted with me, and I'll be happy with the people who care about me for who I really am, because I'm frankly over worrying about how other people will react to my joy.

[boogiewrites]

Repentance

Eddie Munson x f!reader (no use of y/n) - best friends to enemies to lovers

She was a hot, cheerleading, mean popular girl. He was a rebellious, guitar-shredding "freak" boy. Could I make it any more obvious?

Reader gave up her former life to become popular but it turns out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. By her senior year, she’s grown weary of being someone she’s not and stands up for herself one too many times before the cutthroat members of Hawkins royalty decide to ruin her reputation. With no one left who knows the real her, she’s left to reach out to her former best friend, Eddie Munson. We follow her and Eddie through key moments in their best friends to enemies to lovers' journey ending with a reconciliation that shows her what kind of love she's been missing out on.

Contains: Sex: P in V, fingering, oral sex (m receiving). Use of "good girl".

CW Continued: Insinuation of sexual assault. Mentions of abuse by grabbing/shoving and leaving bruises. Emotional manipulation. Bullying. Mention of a gay slur painted on Eddie’s locker. Telling of bad memories related to sex. Canon insults and arguments. Drinking, smoking, partying. Hurt/Comfort. Confessions. Everyone is of age by the time anything sexual happens. Mentions of underage Eddie being attracted to the underage reader but nothing sexual happens. Use of the word slut as an insult.

“One day I’m gonna be the prettiest, most popular girl in school, you’ll see!” you shouted proudly, full of optimism at the age of 12 to your best friend.

“Uh-huh, sure.” he nodded, rolling his eyes with a crooked smile.

“I am!”

“People like us don’t get popular.” he sighed, the defeat of 2 more years of life experience, a teenager in middle school who was getting even more life lessons than those he’d already learned the hard way at a young age.

“Well…” you pouted your lips and sunk back in thought. “Can I still be the prettiest?” you perked up with newfound hope.

“Sure.” he chuckled to himself. “You can be the prettiest.”

Now, 6 years later you’d achieved that bold goal. But you hadn’t… couldn’t have known what it was going to cost you. The biggest hurt and the first was losing your best friend. The very same boy that had told you you could do it (at least half of it anyway) In hindsight, you wish you’d listened.

The summer you were 13, one to live in infamy where puberty hit you like an 18-wheeler and suddenly you’d gone from awkward kid to a woman. You weren’t even the first to notice. It was the male attention that told you you were no longer decent in your second-hand children's clothes. You laughed awkwardly at first when the grown men said sly things about you growing up. But then boys your age started saying things. And that didn’t feel as nerve-wracking or gross. You’d never had attention like this before from guys. Suddenly they said soft, sweet words to you in private, promising you things if you cooperated. You saw your chance to become that idealized version of yourself. And you grabbed it by the horns.

“I said I’m going to Skull Rock with Jason.” you repeated, your then still, soon to be no longer best friend gawked with a slack face at your words repeated a second time.

“I heard you the first time.” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? You’re just…sitting there glaring at me.”

“Oh, there’s PLENTY I want to say. But I don’t know if I should.” he sat back and crossed his arms, looking away and shaking his head.

“I’d rather you talk than stare at me with your mouth open like a frog.” you grumped, crossing your arms to mimic the defensiveness you felt. You knew he’d have something to say about it. He always did. He’d been bitching about how much time you were spending with the “wrong” people all summer. He was feeling left behind and hurt. Abandonment issues are a-plenty being triggered. Confusing growing feelings for you he tried to ignore as you flaunted your new body and attitude. He was only a 15-year-old boy with uncontrollable hormones, after all, things were bound to get ugly one way or another.

“Fine.” he slapped his hands to his thighs and shot up to his feet, hormone-fueled anger making his face red. “It’s a bad idea. It’s stupid.” he chopped his hands together to drive his point home. He moved across the room to talk directly to your shocked face. “I’m only saying this because I care about you… but this isn’t going to end well.” he put his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to get used and then thrown away and you’re gonna come crying back to me to pick up the pieces and I’ll be here to tell you I fucking told you so. These are not good people. They’re selfish and greedy and overall just assholes! I’d say I don’t get why you want to hang out with them, but I do, unfortunately. The shiny promise of power and popularity is being dangled right in front of you and you want it so bad you’re willing to do anything for it. I know you. I know why you’re doing it. And I know that it’s going to end badly. You’re going to get your heart broken, or worse because these guys they…” he took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “They do things to girls. They think you owe them something. Do you get what I’m saying? And you’re a new shiny toy and then when something else comes along, shiny and new just like you are now, they’re gonna throw you away and forget you ever existed.” he stopped with a heaving chest, hands to his sides exasperated. His curls bounce as his chest rose and fell, starting to grow past his ears now, part of his effort to cultivate a hard persona to ward himself against the people he was trying to warn you about.

“They have been nothing but nice to me! They compliment me all the time, they give me things! They listen to me when I talk. I don’t get why you’re being so negative.” you pushed back with a snaking neck.

“You’re so naive.” he groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“I am not!” you shouted back with balled fists.

“You’re young, sweetheart. You haven’t been around these guys like I have. I’m in high school, I see the shit they do. They’re terrible. I don’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be scared to go into high school.”

“You’re jealous aren’t you?” you hissed smugly and his face grew red again.

“Jealous?” his armor of crossed arms appeared again, back straighten in full defense mode.

“Yeah! Are you mad because you want to go to Skull Rock with me?”

“I have BEEN to Skull Rock with you before! God! I’m not jealous!” His voice cracked and broke from puberty and the strain of stress. “I’m telling you this because I’m your friend and I care about you okay? People, who only tell you what you want to hear? Those are the liars and they only want something from you. People who are willing to tell you what you don’t want to hear? Those are your real friends. Not those people.” He pointed with a shakey arm to back up his words.

“So now anyone nice is a liar? All the compliments they’ve said are lies? That sounds like you’re being a jerk!”

“You’re twisting my words! Ugh!”

“That’s what you said!” You squeak back with a stomped foot.

“Shut up and listen to what I’m saying and take it in for a goddamn minute instead of trying to fight me for no reason!” He shouted.

“I’m not! You’re being mean for no reason!”

“I’m NOT being mean I’m being a good friend and you aren’t listening to me because you don’t want your bubble burst about these assholes. But that’s what they are!”

“So what if they are? Maybe they’re nice to me because I’m nice.”

“They’re being nice because you got tits!” He finally screamed. “They want to fuck you! That’s WHY they’re nice. They don’t give a shit about you!”

You stood gawking and red-faced. Hurt, flustered, and defensive at his bold claims.

“They do care.” Your bottom lip blubbered as he rubbed his face hard letting out a feral groan.

“They don’t, hun. That’s what I’m saying.” He exhaled noisily.

“But…“ you gulped. “They asked me to hang out with their friends. They want me to be a part of their group. I could be popular Eddie!”

“I don’t know why you’d want to. Those people are evil.”

“They’re not evil. You’re so dramatic. I think you’re jealous I’m getting in with the popular kids and you’re still a loser.” It came out before you had the chance to stop it. You even clamped your hands over your mouth as if you might be able to take it back.

Eddie stood shocked. Still. His brows creased and lids fluttered under his frizzy bangs.

“There it is.” He nodded and sucked his teeth. “You’re already one of them.” He turned and plopped down on the couch. “The truth always comes out somehow.” He flopped his arms, now exhausted.

“I didn’t mean-“

“No, you did.” He nodded fast and glared your way. “I see where you stand now. Go get chewed up and spit out by them. Don’t come running crying to me and my loser ass when it happens.”

“Eddie I-“

“Get out.” He pointed at the door with a stone face. “You’ve already made your choice. It’s them.”

He’d always been wise beyond his years when it came to understanding people. You should’ve listened.

You were well into your quest of being the queen bee now. You were composed, and a stone-cold bitch. And as much as Eddie hated to admit it, you were also drop-dead gorgeous. At almost 15 you looked confident and much older in the way you dressed and carried yourself. It was all intentional. You looked like you walked off a sitcom set of any popular show, always trendy and groomed to an impossibly high standard. You looked like a movie star he thought as he watched you get out of the car dropping you off. Eddie was sitting on his porch, it was a hot summer night and he couldn’t sleep. He plucked away at the guitar in his lap as he watched you wave and stand poised until the car was well out of sight. Then it was eerie as if you morphed into someone else. You dug through your purse and groaned. Your attention snapped to him as his lighter lit up the darkness around him.

“Eddie?” You asked, still graceful across gravel even in heels.

“Who’s askin’?” That was his smart-ass reply.

“It is you!” He visually recoiled at the perky response. You giggled and shuffled across the grass around his wooden patio. You stood smiling, looking him over.

“It’s me.” He waved a hand to break your stare.

“Could I bum one of those?”

“You smoke?”

“Only when I’m alone. Have to handle the stress somehow!” You laughed but seemed too sad for him to share in.

“You shouldn’t, it’s a bad habit.” He muttered with the cigarette between his lips.

“But you're doing it ya goob.” You laughed and slapped his arm. He was so confused. You hadn’t spoken to him in what felt like decades. You’d ignored him, insulted him, and stood back as others ostracized him. You were enemies. Right?

“I know.” He handed you the cylinder. You took it from him and perched it between your painted lips then pat your body as if you might find a lighter.

“You mind?” You scoot closer. He sighed and handed you his lighter, a lackluster extended palm so you’d have to work for it but to his surprise you leaned forward, putting the tip of yours to his and sucking in. He wondered where the hell you learned that. He’s hit with an unwanted sadness that he no longer knew everything about you. “Thanks, babe.” You grinned and stood with a popped-out hip.

“Babe?” He snorted in amusement.

“I call people babe when they’re babes.” You say as if it’s the most casual observation.

“You’re calling me a babe?”

“I call them like I see them, Eddie.” You winked and giggled, fearlessly waking up the steps to sit next to him. Your bare thigh against his cut-off shorts.

“Are you okay? Ohhh you’re drunk aren’t you?” A standard assumption.

“I am not drunk actually!” You laughed. “I was earlier but then I got some stuff from Chris.”

“Stuff?”

“Pills.” You nodded enthusiastically. “And let me tell you. This is some gooood shit. You should sell it, you'd make a killing.”

“You take pills now?”

“I do a lot of things now that I didn’t before Eddie.” You smirk and give him the up and down and he quickly turned his head away to hide his blush.

“What kind of pills were they?”

“I don’t even know. I just wanted to not be so fuckin’ sad on my birthday.” The words don’t only hurt Eddie to hear. He didn’t know why you were being so honest.

“You take random pills? That’s not safe.”

“He got them from his friend. They’re like psych drugs. Some letters or something. She got them when she was in the looney bin. But she’s so fucking cool. Oh my god, you’d love her!” You put your hand on his arm like you were old friends again.

“I like my women to not give random drugs to people.”

“Bit hypocritical for a dealer to say.” You smirked.

“I know what I give my customers and I explain- hey I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“So touchy.” You tease and wiggle your shoulders.

“A lot like you tonight. Which is why I knew you had to be on drugs.”

You snorted out a laugh. “You always were funny.” You said with a hum. “I miss being around funny people.” You sigh. “I mean that girl was funny tonight. And so cool. She was in a band. And she was so hot oh my god I wanted to die. I was so jealous. I could never be that sexy and cool.”

You never showed weakness. You’re admitting to insecurity openly to him now? Must’ve been a truth serum they gave you.

“What band?”

“She’s not from around here.”

“Oh.” He looked away as you boldly took in his face. “I mean you used to be cool.”

“Wasn’t sexy though.” You laughed.

“Well no, you were a kid.” He laughed

“What about now?” You ask with a raise of your chin. He hesitated. “Am I sexy now?” Eddie’s mouth stuttered.

“You uh- you’re… ya know…”

“You’re sexy you know.” You added quietly, leaning into him.

“You’re full of shit” he blurted out and you threw your head back in a laugh.

“So humble.” You reached over to push his curls back, your smile looking so genuine it made his chest hurt. “I always thought you were pretty.” You shrugged.

“Why are you saying this?” He blurted out.

“Because I won’t when I’m sober,” you answered quickly and so nonchalantly. “I’m hoping I won’t remember this so I won’t be embarrassed. Because you’re cool and hot now and I can’t be your friend and it fucking sucks. Also can’t be more than your friend.” You quietly added the last part.

“Would you want to be?”

“Would you?” You shot back.

“Before you walked out I thought maybe-“ he started but then shook his head in resignation.

“I thought maybe too.” You nodded. “I miss how nice you were to me.”

“I miss how nice you were to me.”

“I do too.” You paused. “This sucks.” you groaned.

“What does?“

“Everything.” You sigh and hang your head, arms flapping in a small expression of the big feeling of despair.

“I thought this was what you wanted?” he couldn’t help but sound judgemental, still defensive, unsure of the validity of the truths you were telling him.

“So did I.” you groan and throw your head back, posture slumped, like you didn’t care what you looked like. You weren’t performing for once. He was getting a glimpse at the real you. And you hadn’t changed all that much. It was heartbreaking and comforting at the same time. “But I can’t tell you you were right. Because of course, I can’t. But you already know you are so-!” You hopped off the porch in exclamation and landed on your feet somehow, he had flinched and reached out to catch you, hands at your waist as you stumbled only slightly, moving in his direction from the suggestion of his grip. There was a moment, you were in the shadow, backlit by the street lamps dotted across the trailer park. Your hands to his wrists, bent forward in front of him where you connected. And dammit he was still hopeful enough to forget you were high as a kite and might mean it. Your face was softer than it had been, fuller and older. So was the body he felt under his hands. He tried to jerk them away, his eyes rapidly blinking to pull him away from the far too-intimate stare. But your hands kept him on you, he gave you the biggest cow-eyed look full of questions as you didn’t let his hands off you. He called your name in question, you still looking over his face, trying to remember what he looked like up close because you didn’t know if you’d ever get this close again. “Things could’ve been so different.” he barely heard your whisper as your face finally fell, reality creeping back in. You let his wrists go and stepped backward, less confident this time. Your hands gathered in front of you to pick at your nails, looking at the ground with the shining promise of tears in them.

“What could’ve been?” he asked, eyes borderline frantic. You took another step backward.

“Doesn’t matter.” you shook your head and looked away, wiping your cheek.

“Sure it does.” he tried to pull you back in. Maybe he could get the closure he needed while you were high. It wasn’t the most moral thing he’d ever done but he wasn’t hurting anyone.

“Not anymore it doesn’t.” you run your hands through your hair and let out a raspberry of a sigh. “Ugh.” you looked up at the sky for a moment. “Fuck.” you covered your face in your hands and turned away from him, walking back toward your trailer.

“Hey! Are you gonna be okay?” he stood, ready to chase after you. You raised a hand and waved it.

“Don’t worry about me.” you shouted, feet moving faster but your tone made him do the opposite. “I can take care of myself.” you lied before disappearing into your home.

Eddie was left with the uncomfortable burden of knowing how you might feel. Which wasn’t even clear. The fact that there was any feeling there was enough for him to let it stew in his head. Maybe you were just wasted and blabbing. He shouldn’t put so much weight on something a girl high on pills said. But that didn’t stop it from eating away at him.

A few terrible interactions went down between you as you navigated high school and the cut throat social jungle it was. You’d done what you sought out to do. You’d made your way in. You’d lost yourself in the process making you do awful things to good people to keep your place among the royals of Hawkins high.

Then came a test of loyalty. After defending Eddie during a round of shit talking everyone became suspicious of whose side you were really on. Had you truly left your old life behind? So they had you do something that broke your heart. You wrote a note to Eddie and slipped it in his locker. You’d been told what to say and what to do. The way you did it with laughter and smiles churned your insides. He showed up to the diner as instructed under the guise of a romantic reconciliation. You walked in with another guy. Even if it wasn’t you that delivered the belittling words you still blew your bubble gum and smirked. You put on your show. You enabled it. That was just as bad in his eyes.

“You really thought someone like her would want to be with a freak like you?” They laughed.

Eddie was calm. He’d been suspicious all along. But he played along for that one tiny sliver of hope you weren't completely lost to him. That the night over the summer hadn’t been a lie.

He hid, sitting in the back of his van smoking a cigarette in a different parking lot to contemplate and decompress alone. He could see the back of the diner from there. He watched you walk out the front laughing alone and finishing a conversation. As you rounded the side and got out of sight your entire being shifted. You slouched, hands through your hair before digging a cigarette out of your purse and failing to light it with how much you were shaking. He watched as you started to cry. That was the turning point for you. Part of you died that you could never recover that day.

But he did nothing. He wasn’t even mad. Just disappointed knowing you had made your choice clear. And it wasn’t him.

The next time Eddie saw you cry he was more directly involved. He’d inadvertently started a rather nasty rumor about you. He'd made an off-color remark about your being a revolving door for the basketball team and through the rumor mill it ran. You leaned into it, you couldn’t let anyone see you upset, you had to be untouchable. You slang insults back all day and laughed them off but when you were alone the tears came. You left your house to cry by the trailer park dumpster. Not a usual place for such an activity but you didn’t want your mother asking questions. So at night, you skipped out to smoke and let it out against a graffitied cement block wall.

Eddie found you. On accident. Again. You stood up as he tossed his bag into the dumpster and wiped your face. He’d heard you, the street lamp showing enough to see your splotched face and swollen eyes.

“What?” You barked at him with a creased brow.

“I didn’t say anything.” He answered monotone.

“Odd that now you have nothing to say when you’ve been telling people I let the entire basketball team fuck me.” You spat out with nothing but venom.

“I didn’t say that.” Another one-note response.

“I supposed everyone else is lying about hearing it from you then?”

“Sweetheart I don’t talk to enough people to spread a fucking rumor and I sure as shit don’t care about you enough to try.” He saw the hurt then. It was personal. There was a thing of guilt with his words. But he was so overcome with defensiveness at the sight of you that now it was a hard habit to break. ”Maybe if you didn’t hang out with such shitty people and do shitty things to innocent people, rumors wouldn't spread about you. Seems like you deserve it to me.” He gave a half-formed shrugged and left you there. He didn’t hear you go back inside to cry the hardest you had in years.

Time passed and you didn’t speak at all. Not when he sold at parties, not when you crossed paths inside or outside of school. It was as if you were strangers for years. The distance between you felt unpassable. Too much damage left you both vulnerable to quickly assume the worst from the other. So misunderstandings happened.

It was the week of the school dance and you were on the planning committee. You’d gotten out of class to help decorate and had been painting banners all day. You were proud of your work but covered in stains from the paint. So when Eddie backtracked after he passed you in the hallway and then reached out to grab your arm roughly, you were startled. Not something that anyone else could’ve made you do.

“You? Are you fucking serious?” His voice was deeper now than the last time you’d heard it. His face was longer, more angular with light stubble on his cheeks. His hair was the longest it had ever been. The fleeting thought of how it suited him and how he more closely resembled a man than a boy now was plucked away when he shoved your shoulder for your lack of response.

“Sorry- I mean- what do you want?” You changed your real tone to the mask of cold bitch you wore.

“You’re the one that painted my fucking locker?”

“Your-? I was making banners.”

“Uh huh sure.” He rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Funny I don’t see any banners but I do see fag spray painted on my locker.” He saw the flinch. He would swear it later but his red angry vision made him doubt it. “In that shade of paint all over your fucking hands. You’d think you weren't that stupid.”

“I wouldn’t-“ your voice was quiet, too quiet for you. Your eyes shifted to see who was watching, leaning in a little closer to his face as if it might show him you were serious.

“Ha! You wouldn’t?” He laughed in your face, intruding on your personal space and looking you over with disdain.

“I didn’t.” You state with more backbone. “I made banners for the dance. I didn’t paint your locker. But I think asshole would’ve been more appropriate.” You sneered and stomped away, being sure to clip his shoulder with yours as you passed.

You walked by his locker, it was already painted over sloppily by the maintenance man. You could see the outline vaguely. You didn’t know who did it. Still don’t. But it hurt you to know he thought you’d be capable of it.

Then it was Eddie’s turn to be misunderstood. Something he found himself on the wrong side of more often than not. He’d had to watch you do your routine in your cheer uniform during the pep rally that morning. It infuriated him how attractive he thought you were. You had your makeup and hair fully done. Anytime you were in public he saw you look immaculate. But the bow and glitter were really doing it for him for some reason. He was pondering how cheer uniforms were even allowed with the flashes of cheek and their tailor-made fits to make you look as flawless as possible. You land with a smile into a split, chest heaving before the team collectively broke into giggles at the cheers and praise from the crowd. You were happy in that moment. He knew your real smile. The one that crooked to the right and showed a chip in your tooth you’d gotten from a rock when running after a raccoon. He saw a flash of that awkward kid and caught himself in a painful loop of nostalgia that morning. So the fact that he was staring at you bent over the table across from him wasn’t totally his fault. You’d made him think about you all morning already.

“God, she’s hot.” He blinked out of his trance at his friend's words.

“She’s such a bitch though.” Eddie grinned to himself, looking down as the guys talked about you, finally diverting his attention.

“It’s like the hottest ones are bitches. It’s like a rule of the universe or something.”

“I kinda like it when they’re mean.” A laugh moved through the small group of teen boys.

“Not the kind of mean cheerleaders are. Degrading but outside the bedroom is not the same.”

“I’d like to be mean to her.”

“That’s better. Now you’re talking.”

“Teach her a lesson. Make her shut the hell up. Man, that sounds like heaven.”

“Or hell.”

“Either way.” Eddie finally chimed in, a deep breath as he stood and lifted his lunch tray. “Doesn’t really matter because, at the end of the day, none of us has a snowball's chance in hell with any of them.” He nodded as if he was proud of the fact.

“Don’t be such a bummer dude.”

“Keeping it honest as always.”

“I’ve got to keep you guys with your feet on the ground. That’s my job. To be a fuckin buzzkill. Shit job but-“ he shrugged and turned, a smirk on his face and eyes on his friends as he stepped out. “Someone’s gotta-“

The clatter of silverware and a gross smush of food into tight polyester and your chest kept him from finishing his sentence.

“Shit.” He whispered, face winced as he was confronted with you, barely a foot away and looking as angry as he’d ever seen you.

“Seriously?” You shouted, gaining the attention of the room that hadn’t already been grabbed by the sound of the tray hitting the floor.

“Fuck.” He muttered, hands now empty and uncomfortably close to looking like he was trying to grab your boobs. “I know this won’t mean shit coming from me but I didn’t mean to “

“You didn’t mean to ruin my fucking uniform hours before the game?” You hissed. “Now I have to leave school and pay for a fucking dry cleaner and beg them to do it fast.” You sloughed off the mush of lunch food to fall into the floor between your feet.

“I didn’t.” He shrugged, shrinking under your glare.

“You just happened to stand and shove into me as I passed?” You sassed with an incredulous look on your face.

“You think the world revolves around you anyway so is that really that far-fetched?” 13-year-old you would’ve found that joke hilarious. But 17-year-old you did not. You shoved him with both hands causing him to stumble back into the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You hissed as you stomped off to leave him with the mess.

“I really didn’t mean to.” He said in his defense, blowing his cool uncaring persona. Oh well. He’d tried.

After you got over your seething anger over the major inconvenience he’d caused, you realized maybe he didn’t mean it. He’d seemed as shocked as you had. He’d lacked his trademark cocky smugness. You recalled the times you’d wished you could’ve told him it wasn’t you and have him believe you. So it made your next interaction a lot more honest. The most honest you’d had with him in 4 years.

You’d begun your senior year. That had caused a pause for some self-reflection on your behalf. It was much needed and well overdue. You saw how much you hated the fake friends you had. You constantly had to run every thought and action through a filter before saying or doing anything. You could have no opinions of your own. You couldn’t deviate from the herd lest they pick you off. You had one more year. You could do that. You could have that popular girl high school experience then go to college and figure out who you were now. Because you felt entirely lost.

Which led you to an old hobby. You tried to do things that used to make you happy before you had to become someone you weren’t. So you did something you never do- and went out alone. A midnight showing in the middle of the week of an old horror movie. You figured you’d be safe there. You could be alone and laugh and turn your brain off for a little bit.

You’d be wrong.

There was one other person in the theatre. Eddie Munson.

You rounded the corner into the theatre, diet soda in hand. You’d naturally paused to see if anyone else was there or what seating options there were. But your eyes landed on the near-black set of Eddie’s with his frame of long wavy hair. You stared a little too long before looking down and away, your hands up and awkward as you decided what to do. You couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to either. You could sit alone away from him but that felt just as weird since you were the only two in the theatre and you knew each other. Sorta. Should you sit with him? Was that too much? You quickly realize you’ve been standing in place far too long and make a split-second decision.

“Do you wanna uh-sit together?” Your voice lacked its trademark bite. Soft and unsure. He leaned forward, looking behind you, confirming you were alone.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” He huffed out a laugh. A defense mechanism that had hardly any thought behind it anymore. He saw you frown. You never frowned. Or showed any emotion besides happiness or smugness.

“Okay. Sorry, I asked.” You held up your hands in surrender and walked a few rows down and sat near the middle.

You’d said sorry. That was different. His curiosity was piqued. If he was a cat he’d be dead. He waited, running through possible scenarios and traps with how this could play out. The previews started and you were still alone. He took a chance and like you, made a split-second decision.

He plopped down next to you without a word. You understood his hesitancy. You didn’t even blame him for snapping at you. But a pleasant warmth spread in your body as he sat arm to arm, kicking his feet up on the seat in front of him. He shook a box of candy at you. You shook your head to decline. Another shake, insistent you partake.

“I don’t want any, thanks.” You whispered as if there were other people around.

“C’mon they’re your favorite.” Eddie was skilled at watching out of his peripheral. He saw your lashes bat, a look of confusion then concentration. You hadn’t expected him to remember.

“I know.” You said softly. “But I’ll pass.”

“I mean… 12 year old you would kick your ass for saying that.”

You laughed. An honest to god laugh and he turned his whole head to see it happen in slow motion in the harsh lighting of the projector. You sighed and shook your head.

“12-year-old me didn’t have to worry about getting fat.” You almost snorted out, eyes on the screen.

“You’re not fat and who cares if you were? One piece of candy isn’t going to kill you.” He took your hand and opened it up, placing the candy into it. It was a risk, he knew that. But this felt different somehow.

“Thanks.” was the last word spoken until the lights came up.

“Since when do you come to these things?” He asked as he held the door open for you as you left the theatre.

“Since I’ve been doing some soul searching.” An honest answer he was again, surprised by.

“Didn't know you had one of those.”

“Me either.” you said with a tired laugh. “That’s why I’m here. Trying to find it again.”

“Finding your soul means watching old scary movies?” He asked as you walked to the parking lot together.

“Trying to figure out what I like now. So I guess it does.” You nodded. You looked tired. Not a superficial kind. “You still like the same stuff?”

“Mostly, some new things added in.” He gave away, playing his cards close. He still wasn’t sure why you were being so… human.

“Thanks for sitting with me.” You gave him a soft smile as you stood at your car.

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t want to give away the hope it made him feel. He didn’t want to feel that about you. He’d done it before and had it squashed. “I’ll see you around.” He took a step away, purposely wobbling as he did so. “I’ll be sure to be a prick again next time.”

“I’ll be the same old bitch again I’m sure.” You gave him a tired smile.

And you were. So tired.

The next time you interacted with Eddie followed the same new, path you two were making together. It was civil.

As much of in your defense as it could be, you were drunk. You had also just been harassed into trying to get Eddie to sell you weed when he’d refused the guys you were with. It was a house party like any other, everyone out to forget the horrors of existence and make questionable decisions that made them feel alive for the night. Both of you were not an exception to the rule. You looked down onto the pool patio, Eddie alone on a lounge chair with his infamous lunch box, parked and taking orders.

“C’mon! He won’t sell to us, the little prick.”

“What makes you think he’ll sell to me? Why not send someone else?” you motion to the other various girlfriends in the room.

“He’s got a soft spot for you. We have to take advantage of that. You’re our inside girl when it comes to that freak, you know that.”

“The names he’s called me lead me to think otherwise.” you grumped and crossed your arms. Your boyfriend stepped towards you and put his hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eye, bending over to get to your level. “I don’t know why I have to. This seems impossible.”

“Because you’re hot, babe.” he stated with no sweetness behind it. It was merely a fact to be used in his favor. “And he’s a freak but he’s still a red-blooded American male just like us. Push those pretty tits together and bat your lashes and get your way like you do.” he gave you a supportive slap to the shoulder more suited for a teammate than a girlfriend. You breathed in deep from your nostrils and out, your tits seemed to serve only their purpose rose and fell as you pushed down your anger.

“What if he’s not into girls? You guys say it enough, what makes you think you’re wrong?” you try to sidestep the situation entirely.

“Well, that can’t be true because he fingered Melissa.” he throws a thumb so casually her way.

“Oh my God! I told you not to tell anyone that!” she shouted and hid her face in the nearest pillow.

“It had to be said in this instance.” he excused himself.

“We don’t look anything alike… what if I’m not his type?” you tried.

“Babe, you’re everyone's type. That’s why you’re with me. I gotta have what everyone else wants.” he smirked.

“And when he doesn’t sell to me after I jiggle my bits at him? What then?” you put your hands on your hips as your boyfriend leaned against a wall and crossed his arms.

“Why don’t you go fucking try instead of standing here complaining?” his best friend interjects.

“I didn't ask you.” You sneered.

“Someone should.” he puffed up. “Look, we need the drugs to have a good time. And if we don’t have a good time, no one does. Which means you aren’t going to have a good time. You understand?” The weighted statement made your stomach hurt.

“We should just leave. Try someone else.” you sigh and rub the bridge of your nose.

“You need to suck it up buttercup. Go charm him, hell, I don’t give a shit if you have to blow him to get it. Just get it.” Your lids rapidly blink, surprised outwardly for a moment before remembering you were dealing with some of the most selfish people you’d ever met.

“You’re telling me to blow other guys for drugs. And in front of him?” you motion to your boyfriend who rolls his eyes.

“This is more important than you giving that freak the ride of his life.” he laughs and shakes his head.

“So if I go fuck him…” you begin with the hot anger started to show. You’re grabbed by the shoulders and turned around.

“Do what you have to do.” his best friend says before shoving you out of the bedroom door.

“But-” you turn as fast as you can to be met with a slammed door in your face. Something is mumbled and then the group laughs.

Hurt and alone you white knuckle grip the stair railing to keep your balance and stomp down the stairs in heels that weren’t meant to move fast or angrily in.

Eddie watched you from behind the bright cherry of a cigarette as you came down the stairs, clearly upset. You appeared and disappeared through the large windows of the house. The quiet, cold outside was opposed in cool toned light to the hot inside with dancing bodies. The lighting warm and golden, your skin on show with your little black dress giving enough away to make anyone attracted to women look. He observed as you strong-shouldered your way between people a little too roughly, going to the kitchen and dunking a plastic cup into the certainly tainted punch bowl. Not even he dared touch that stuff with his vast drug experience. You shot it back like it was some chaser and slammed it to the countertop. You gave your cheeks a slap which made him laugh before turning into a subtle smirk watching you push your chest together in the low-cut dress. He knew they’d send you after he told them to fuck off after their vague threats and refusal to pay his prices.

You gathered yourself up, resigned to your fate as you made your way to the glass patio doors. You let the warmth of the alcohol wash over you, embraced the fuzz and buzz of it. With a full cup in your hand, you saunter out all hips and bouncing chest after sliding the door shut behind you.

“Hey.” it was a little drawn out, not exactly slurred yet. But you’d been drinking since age 13 so you weren’t a lightweight by any means.

“Hey.” he gave right back, looking down and eyes swinging up to see you swaying toward him. It wasn’t a sight he hated to see, but the reasoning behind it kept him from enjoying it as much as he could. You sat across from him on another lounge chair. Your posture was obvious to push your boobs together, shining smooth legs stretched out and settled next to his.

“So you know why I’m here.” you began with a splay of your drink-filled hand. He looked up to give you his full attention then. Surprise at your honesty clear on his face.

“I could assume, yeah.” he nodded slowly, looking you over which you seemed to invite.

“I figure…” you began, leaning in and taking a drink, and lowering your voice. “With you, an honest approach will work best. Because I was ordered to come down here and seduce you into giving me drugs.” You watched him lean back and laugh, before resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honesty is the best policy. You’ve not always been so open to that.” He winked his eye, brows raised to remind you of his words of warning years ago.

“You’re not wrong.” You shrugged. “It would be in both our best interests to use it moving forward with this… working relationship.”

“We could have had it all along, you know.” He offered with a nod of his chin. “But you wanted to play dirty.”

“I know.” You rolled your eyes. “But I’m 18, not 13 Ed. I like to think I know a little more about how these things work now.”

“You do.” A more subtle nod as you leaned in close to speak to one another.

“You wanna hear my plan?” You ask with a perk up of your posture and a tilt of your head.

“Shoot.”

“I’m gonna touch you. Heads up.” You say quietly with a suppressed giggle as your hand lands on his knee. You watch his chin push back into his neck as his eyes get a little wider. “I’ll pay you want you want. I’m not gonna be an asshole like they are about it. But we don’t have to tell them that part.”

“I’m listening.”

“When I said I was ordered down here to seduce you I wasn’t joking.” You say with pursed lips. “They’re going to be watching me out here with you. So I’m gonna play along with their plan so they won’t be shitty to me later, okay?”

“You’re going to fake seduce me… so they aren’t mean to you?” He wore confusion on his face.

“If they knew I was talking to you like a person I’ll never hear the end of it. This isn’t just about the drugs now, it’s about making me do something I don’t wanna do.” Your face wasn’t as bright as it was, dimming as you explained.

“Fucking assholes.”

“Yeah, they are. Well established.” You rushed out. “So I’m gonna flirt and you’re gonna not puke on me because I’m doing it.” that got a smile out of him.

“Not gonna puke.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his laugh. “You know that’s the funniest thing you’ve said to me in years.”

“Why? I figured you were repulsed by me. Hated everything I stood for.”

“Sure but… not you specifically. Not anymore anyway. Whatever’s gotten into you recently shows there’s humanity in there somewhere.”

“I’m trying.” You sigh and stop before your shoulders slump.

“More so it was the idea that you… arguably the hottest girl in Hawkins thinks touching me would make me puke.” He let himself laugh.

“Well, it’s more of a philosophical ralphing, not a literal one.” You flashed him a genuine smile. There was no argument. You were the hottest. At least in his opinion.

“I’m glad you’re still funny.”

“I’m glad you remember I ever was.” You press your lips together into something apologetic. “I don’t get to be much anymore. Just mean.” You looked away, your face turning down as your eyes glazed for a moment. He hadn’t realized the amount of hurt that was inside you. You were so good at not showing it.

“Let’s make your night a little easier then, huh?” He leaned down to open his lunchbox. “I’ll play along and you can go up there to those goons and get wasted out of your gourd and not be bothered by them.”

“Be bothered by them less.” You perked back up and tapped the bulb of his nose which made him wrinkle back with a disgusted look on his face before letting out a deep chuckle.

“I said I’d play along. Don’t get cocky.” He smirked and lowered your hand.

“Okay, playing by your rules Mr. Munson.” You agreed with a smile and put your hands up in surrender.

“Don’t go saying that I might think you’re being nice to me.”

“Shut up.” You giggle and put your hand back on his knee.

“That's better. That feels more natural.” He nodded and pulled out a baggy.

“You aren’t gonna weasel a kiss or a hand job for it?” You snorted out a laugh.

“Don’t think your boyfriend would like that very much.” He grinned and put in the mix of uppers and downers requested previously.

“I was given orders to do whatever it took. Even fuck you.” You delivered the words as if they weren’t terribly depressing. He didn’t hide his distaste for the statement.

“Are you serious?” He closed his box and tucked it away, a heavy bag in his hand.

“Does it matter?” You shrug as you tuck his hair behind his ear, being sure to keep up the flirting for the audience above.

“Fuck yes it matters are they… are you safe? What are they making you do if they’re telling you to…” he audibly gulped. “Do that for drugs from me.” He’d taken your hand into his and leaned in close to your face, your hands hanging between you.

“I’m a big girl, Ed.” You give him a smile that was warmer than warranted. “I can handle them just fine.”

“That’s fucked up. Even for them.” He shook his head.

“All part of the game.” You almost sing it, reaching out to take the bag.

“Money first. Can’t risk this all being a very elaborate ploy.”

“It’s in my cleavage if you want it.” You chuckle.

“I’m not gonna reach in your cleavage and get it.” He couldn’t help but let a small grin slip as he glanced down at your chest.

“We have to make them believe I came down here and laid it on thick.” You reminded him. “We can sneak off around the house where they can’t see if you want. To be realistic we’d only have to be there for what? 2, 3 minutes tops?” You let your laugh grow and flip your hair back.

“Very funny.” He raised his brows and rolled his eyes. “I don’t want them to think I’m the kind of man that accepts sex for drugs.”

“High moral standing.” You pucker your lips and nod. “I can respect that.” You paused and chew your cheek trying to think of how to sell this. “I’ll say I exploited your soft spot for me then. No prostitution involved.”

“I’m good with that. I’d rather be soft than the alternative.”

“Your money, sir.” You hand him the folded bills.

“I gotta count it before you leave.” He said already thumbing through it.

“I added in my money plus theirs.”

“Better make sure you get your fair share then.” He offered you the bag willingly again. You plucked it up with a smile. No more honesty, back to the pretty mask you wore in preparation to deal with your overlords again.

“I aim to not know my own name by the end of the night.” You say with a smirk and stand, shoving the bag between your boobs. “Pleasure doing business with you Munson.” You nodded and pulled your dress down where it’s ridden up.

“Pleasures all mine.” He gave you a broad grin. You swish away, Eddie settling back into the quiet before breaking it. “Hey.” He calls out to you and you turn to look over your shoulder. “Be careful, alright?”

“You be careful.” You shot back with a grin. “People are gonna think we don’t hate each other.” His smile was enough of a response for you. “Don’t worry about me, Eddie. Worry about yourself.” You left him with.

He tried to follow your advice. Knowing his interloping could put you both in a compromising situation. But you’d done as you said and were blasted out of your mind. Eddie was skulking about, the party starting to die down with no new people showing up anymore so that was his cue to head home. He was near the entrance when he heard your voice.

“I said I don’t WANT to!” you were like a baby foal in your heels, ankles, and knees wobbly from the level of non-sobriety you’d reached.

“C’mon…” a guy's voice said with authority it shouldn’t have for your response. The hair on Eddie’s neck prickled up at the sound.

“Im sleepy. I wanna go HOME.” you bellow out and leaned forward, catching yourself on his arm.

“How about we find a room and I’ll put you to bed.”

“This isn’t my house STUPID.” you say loudly. Eddie had stopped, out of sight in the foyer as you argued by the stairs. He knew it wasn’t your boyfriend that was talking to you.

“I know that, you don’t have to be a bitch. I didn’t mean you were gonna sleep. I mean you might but I’m not.”

“GeddOFF!” you shoved him back and hard. Eddie heard a thud against the wall and stiffened.

“Don’t fuggin’ push me. Shit, you’re strong.” the guy mumbled. Okay, maybe you could take care of yourself Eddie thought, weighing his options.

“I could kick your dumb ass.” you proudly proclaimed and your tone said you believed it.

“You could try but we both know who would win that fight. I win every fight. All of ‘em.”

“Because you cheat.” you snapped back.

“I win. That’s all that matters.”

“No it isn’t!” you shouted, clearly upset at this declaration he made. “You gotta play by some rules. You have to have SOME. You can break some but you gotta have something.” you jumbled and Eddie sighed. He never liked dealing with blackout drunk people.

“I don’t. I get my way. I always do.” Eddie didn’t see, he only heard the small sound you made as the guy grabbed your shoulders. “He’s passed out. He’s such a fuckin’ lightweight. And a fuckin pussy for letting you run around like this. Looking good enough to eat. He’s left room for a real alpha male to come in and take you down.”

“When I see one I’ll let you know.” You barked back and Eddie covered his mouth to hide his smile, still hovering by the door, indecisive.

“Shut the fuck up. You sleep with everyone. Everyone knows it. Anyone with the right combination of name brands can get with you.”

“Shut up.” you grumble, sounding smaller.

“I don’t know why you won’t let ME bone you though. You act like you’ve got some loyalty all of a sudden when I come into the picture.”

“I do! I don’t cheat on him!” you loudly declared and Eddie felt his heart hurt for you. You really didn’t. That crack in your voice was real. But he knew your boyfriend cheated on you. Hell, even you probably knew.

“Sure, sweet cheeks.” the guy let out a deep, disgusting laugh. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

“How do you sleep at night? Trying to fuck your best friend's girlfriend anytime he leaves me alone!” Eddie winced, knowing who was the predator now and deducting this was not the first time this had happened. He never thought it would happen but, he felt sorry for you.

“I told you I’m taking what should be mine anyway. He’s a fuckin cuck, I know he doesn’t teach you a lesson like he should.” then your laughter bubbled up from deep inside as you cackled into his face.

“Like you could do SHIT!” you almost spit in his face. “We’re both drunk, you idiot. You had whiskey! Ever heard of whiskey dick? Or coke dick? You had both! You couldn’t get it up if you tried!” your confidence was admirable, he had to give you that.

“Listen here you little slut. You’re gonna fuck me. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not tonight. But I’ll get you. When you least expect it.” he hissed and Eddie felt his blood boil.

“If you do I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him everything. I’ll tell him what a lying, cheating, manipulating piece of shit you are. I know you steal from him. That you sabotaged his car before his trip to visit his college because you don’t wanna be alone because you’re too stupid to get into the same school as him. I’ll tell him everything. I’ll ruin your entire EXISTENCE you little shit.” Another loud thud made Eddie move to action. But he found you, holding him by the jaw and holding him against a wall. “He might not care about me. But he cares about that. And he’ll dump you like the trash you are.”

“Are you threatening me?” he laughed, grabbing you by the wrist but somehow you didn’t flinch. Eddie admired the shit out of you at the moment.

“It’s a fucking promise. Now let GO of me. I’m leaving!” he scuttled back into the entryway and out the door, avoiding being seen. He left feeling optimistic about you in a lot of unexpected ways. He knew you had to be strong to an extent to be a cheerleader, but damn. He knew you had to be tough to have survived in the group you had for years. But he’d entirely underestimated you. He thought you were a groveling shadow of a girl, a yes man who did whatever they wanted. Maybe it started that way. But clearly, you’d had enough.

Turns out you weren’t the only one that had had enough of your strength in the face of their bullshit. He knew you’d gotten too confident, too self-assured, and aware to be of use anymore. So he looked for a way to take you down. And he found it.

Which is where you are now. In a moment no one wants to happen to them. This was called a worst-case scenario.

Everyone gawked and whispered as you walked into school that next week. Which was way different than the usual mix of fear, lust, or jealousy. Now they looked at you with a new pairing of pity and superiority. Practiced, you didn’t flinch, merely side-eyeing them as you entered the school.

But the papers were everywhere.

Taped haphazardly onto lockers and walls, strewn around the hallways. One floated to your feet as the doors shut behind you. Familiar insults of whore and slut scrawled over photocopies of polaroids of you naked that you’d taken for your boyfriend. It was as if time froze. Your heart stopped and somehow the world around you kept moving. All your expectations for the rest of your senior year were just turned into dust. Questions swirled in your mind as you stared blankly at the page like it might answer any of them.

But just as serial killers like to do, the culprit hovered and watched, letterman jacket tight around his muscular arms as he leaned against the block wall at the edge of the entry leading to the main hall. His gaze was enough to shoot cold daggers into your gut. His smirk gave him away. He was smug, proud of his work. Your boyfriend's best friend. You didn’t like the guy for many reasons, but you’d never let yourself act on it. At least not that you recalled. You’d been so drunk you’d threatened him and forgotten about it. But his psychopathic ass did not.

Sober, acting how you wanted was never an option. You’d learned that when your boobs came in. Your body and actions and we’re no longer yours. You did what everyone else told you to or they’d ostracize you. By being poor you were already an outsider to them. You didn’t dare give them a reason to push you out. But here you were, laughter growing among the herd, wolf whistles and wagging tongues pointed your way as you stood with dead eyes. You brought the copied paper to your chest as if it might shield you somehow. You felt like a freak show act with a spotlight directly on you.

The one person who understood this feeling was looking at the same paper in his hand. You saw him in the crowd, a bit off center and observing before seeing the photos. His heart dropped to his stomach, his brow furrowed and apologetic before his eyes even met yours. You stared at him. He didn’t even blink. Your mouth opened as if it might call out his name, beg for mercy or cry. A tear finally broke and fell over the slope of your cheek. You didn’t even register you were crying, you remained stone except for that very telling tear. It stood out like a single gem in the sand to him. Every part of him should be smug. He should be indignant and cross his arms and tell you he told you so. Because he had. So many times. And you wouldn’t listen. The one guy that should be looking at you the way everyone else was…wasn’t. He was the only kind soul in the room. Somehow that hurt worse. You didn’t deserve to have Eddie’s sympathy, his empathy. Because he’d warned you the summer you turned 13 that these people would hurt you. He’d begged you not to leave him and go with them instead. But his truths weren’t pretty. And their lies were far too shiny and appealing to your little magpie mind.

You had very few options. But there were options. Your mind worked a mile a minute, looking at the albeit flattering for a center spread but not for the faux conservative Hawkins photos. You couldn’t deny it. Your face was there. There were too many copies to make it disappear. He’d made sure of it. You turned your eyes to the attacker and he didn’t back down. You didn’t expect him to. He was probably hard watching all this play out. You were ruined. There was no coming back from everyone seeing you naked. And with no context. You couldn’t tell everyone they were private photos just for your boyfriend who you’d been in a long-term relationship with and were just trying to keep happy and his attention on you. You were in a way, just trying to be a good girlfriend. But you knew they wouldn’t hear it. They’d heard the rumors. They’d assume you were passing these out like trading cards. The falsity of it did upset you, but you knew no one would believe you. All you had was yourself now. So how do you save yourself when all your usual tools are taken away?

“You did this.” you stated as fact and not a question as you walked up to him, inches apart, giving him no room.

“Prove it.” he gave a cocky nod of his head. That was full admission to you.

“These were taken for him. For ONLY him. He kept them in his dresser to hide them. No one else has access to his shit like you do. And he wouldn’t do this because it hurts his reputation too.”

“Aw. Now she cares about his reputation.” he dramatically pouted.

“I’m stating facts, asshole.” you bit. “But what I want to know is why? This is a lot of fucking effort. It’s pretty pathetic if you ask me.” you waved the paper as if it didn’t hurt you to see it.

“You know why.” Another admission of guilt.

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking, dumbass.”

“I wouldn’t be calling me that. You don’t have the cards in your hand anymore sweetie. He’s gonna dump your ass and I’ll never have to deal with your big mouth again.”

“Good.” you say despite yourself. Never give them what they want in situations like this. That was your rule. “Now I won’t have to deal with either of you limp dicks anymore.” You shoved the paper to his chest as hard as you could. You heard a crack and he let out a noise of pain. You turned and walked out of the school. You sure as hell weren’t going to be around to witness this fresh shit show firsthand. No fucking way. You got out of there as soon as you had what answers you knew you could get.

Eddie didn’t blame you. Like everyone else, he’d heard the whole conversation. The guy had practically written a confession with witnesses. But just like you, he knew it wouldn’t matter. They saw you, the golden girl they envied getting what she deserved. The queen was dethroned and the peasants and her court descended into chaos. He was glad you left. It was the smartest thing you could’ve done.

Now you were left with 100 jolts worth of energy and nowhere for it to go. You paced, but that achieved nothing, the small space of your trailer not giving you any room to get speed or force going to physically get out the endless well of emotion brewing inside you. So you got out, went to the shed, and took out your bike. You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten your license. But driving would be dangerous since you were distracted and a car wreck on top of everything else wasn’t what you needed. So you left and rode until your muscles gave out.

There was a meeting with your mother at the school. You told the truth for once. You told them everything. You had nothing to lose. You were only met with disappointed faces and no sympathy. Because of course, it wasn’t that the boy that leaked them was in the wrong, it was you for taking them. You muttered about sexism but no one gave a shit. All copies had been destroyed that they could find. The amount left stashed away for guys to jerk off to or girls to envy were immeasurable. There were no repercussions for you since you technically did nothing wrong in the eyes of the school, only morally. They couldn’t punish you for being a slut.

It was a weird, rough week. The worst in a long, long time. You simply avoided and ignored. You almost broke quite a few pinkies grabbing guy's hands who thought they could speak to you a certain way or try to touch you. Word traveled fast that if you had been a slut, you no longer were. Except for the whispers, no one else did much. A girl who had a reputation herself tried to empathize. Which you appreciated but being seen with a verified slut wasn’t the image you were looking to build. You’d like to have no image. Just be invisible until graduation. You hid away during lunch, you arrived right before the bell and left right after. You’d quit the cheerleading team which hurt the worst honestly. You loved it. But the joy was no longer there. The girls were told to hate you, so they did. There was no point in trying.

You wish you could say you rose above and didn’t let it hurt you but that’d be a lie. By Friday you were exhausted in ways you didn’t know were possible. You needed a break, some kind of relief. So you went to the one person who had told you not to come to him when your world was ripped away from you. You didn’t care to grovel or apologize or beg. You were prepared to agree with everything he said because he was right. He had been and probably still was smarter than you. You should probably tell him that too, come to think.

Eddie’s phone rang suspiciously soon after he’d come home from Hellfire. Only having had time to kick his shoes off and throw his jacket off he looked at the phone as if had tattled on him somehow.

“Y’ello?” he says with smacked lips.

“Hey.” you paused, licking your lips, looking at his trailer from your window, the cord twirling around your finger.

“Hey.” He sounded just as surprised as you thought he might.

“It’s-”

“I know who it is.” he interrupted you, but it made your shoulders fall a bit, losing the tension for the lack of bite or blame in his voice.

“I wanted to call before I came over. To make sure it was okay.” his face frowned, you sounded like shit.

“Yeah. I just got in, come over whenever.” he said casually, not giving away the cautious questioning he had of the situation.

“Oh, good. Great. Thanks. I’ll be over in just a minute.”

It was a literal minute later you were standing in his living room, looking as soft as ever. You’d kept up appearances for school, still looking immaculate except for the addition of a hoodie this week. Which he found suspicious but he didn’t want to pry. He had his leather jacket and battle vest to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It functioned as a security blanket of sorts for him. Even though yours was still fitted he considered maybe you were trying the same thing out. Or maybe you simply didn’t want people to see any more of your body than they already had. He couldn’t blame you either way.

He’s let you in without a word, going into the kitchen in sweats and a T-shirt, and mismatched socks. He was making himself a bowl of cereal to knock back the hunger of not having eaten since lunch. You watched silently, knowing you were intruding.

“Want some?” He offered, shaking the brightly colored box.

“No thanks.” You said quietly with a shake of your head. He finished his chore and stood with his bowl in hand, hip to the kitchen island counter. He took a few bites, looking you over.

“You look like shit.” He said in a monotone voice and it was exactly what you needed. He watched you break into a laugh, bending slightly, stomach moving with it before you cover your bare face with both hands. You let out a loud groan that grew naturally from the laughter.

“Fuck I know.” You continued laughing, the absurdity of it all hitting you. You knew he’d see right through you. He didn’t necessarily mean you were ugly. He meant you looked how you felt. He was confirming that he knew you weren’t doing well in his subtle weird way that made tears want to prickle in your eyes from how you’d missed it. You’d missed honesty and feeling seen.

He watched you go through the stages of grief in that slightly unhinged laugh. But he loved it. You ran your hand through your hair to pull it away for a moment as you fan your face. Your fingers separated the hair and it fell into a non-styled flop. He’d never seen you willingly mess up the effort you put into your hair with any more than a fluff of your bangs. It was comforting somehow. It made you real again.

“I feel it. I look it. Everything is as it appears.” You held your arms out to present yourself.

“You survived.” He offered optimistically.

“So far.” You held up a finger as of you were directing him which made him smile.

“What can I do ya for?” light-heartedly asking that you tell him why you’re at his house at almost 11 on a Friday night.

“Right.” You nodded, weight shifting from your heels to the balls of your feet to give away your nervousness. He hasn’t seen you move and fidget so much since you were a kid. “As you can imagine… I have not been able to relax this week. Or sleep much. Or well. At all. So I wanted to see if I could buy some weed so I could unclench my asshole for the first time all week. Oh and breathe and sleep and generally not hate existing.” He snorted out a laugh at your crudeness.

“I can do that.” He nodded before shoveling the cereal into his mouth. Forgoing the spoon once the bits were gone and slurping back the milk. He wiped his mouth with his forearm before leaning forward to give you a friendly slap to the arm. “Come on back I got some options.” He was warm and welcoming with his voice which is why the sound of your physical pain when his hand made contact with your body stood out all the more. He froze for a moment, staring at the spot he’d hit before he flicked his eyes to yours. He saw the wince that was still on your face. When you looked away from him he knew his suspicions about the hoodie had been correct. “What’d he do to you?” Burst forth without much thought behind it from his mouth with the protectiveness of a knight.

You shook your head and let out a sound to belittle the situation.

“It was your boyfriend wasn’t it?”

“Yeah but-“ you began to explain before Eddie invaded your personal space and grabbed your hand to yank up the sleeve and see bruises on your arm. He said nothing. Which was scarier somehow. He walked past you and started shoving his feet into his shoes. “What are you doing?” Your voice going high-pitched from stress.

“I’m going to go kill your boyfriend.” And to your surprise he meant it. His voice wasn’t dramatic or loud. It was full of years of built-up hate that was about to be played out with terrifying calmness.

“No. No no no no.” You walked to get his shoulders and block the door. “You’re not killing anyone.”

“He laid his hands on you.” It was all he needed to say.

“I know but it was sorta an accident.” You elaborated.

“An accident?” He stepped back, his face incredulous. “Bullshit.”

“I fell.” Your face winced and you waited.

“That’s the best you could come up with? You fell? The oldest cover-up in the book?” You could feel the heat of anger coming off him now. It made you tense and reactive as he stood towering over you.

“He didn’t mean to. Not like this. It was an accident.”

“Do you hear yourself?” His voice rose and he hasn’t meant for it too. He was seeing red and you were giving him flashbacks to scenes that had played out with women before.

“I know but it won’t happen again!” You’d hit the checklist of every cliche and excuse he’d ever heard from another woman who had been hit by her significant other. He was fully triggered.

“Do you hear yourself?” His anger turned to you and it frightened you. ”He didn’t mean it.” He mimicked. “Was it your fault too? Was he drinking? Did you trip down the stairs? I expected better from you. You sound like your mother.” He spat out as you gasped in shock and slapped him across the face without hesitation. He was right. But that didn’t mean he got to say it. It was as if it flipped a switch and his eyes went soft immediately.

“You don’t get to talk about my mom like that. You want me to bring yours into this?” There was the woman he’d seen stand up for herself last week. That’s who he’d wanted to find again. He needed to know you weren’t another victim. He worried for you so much growing up with the only example of relationships being the shitty ones your mother kept getting into.

“Shit.” He said stepping back and holding his hands up. “I-fuck I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you fucking should be!” You shouted and stood with balled fists. He walked away and sat on the couch in defeat. He took off his shoes and tossed them back by the door.

“I’m sorry.” He said again after a long heavy silence.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked in a stained squeak. “With this fucking week I’ve had and I come to you expecting me to be the one apologizing for being a dick and then you go and talk over me and then-“ you stopped and took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“When I thought about him hurting you…” he said so carefully, softly now. “It reminded me of all the times I’ve heard good women make excuses for shitty men.” he shrugged, hands flopping with lackluster enthusiasm. “Not that it matters now but I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t ever let that happen to you.” He didn’t look at you, he stared a hole into the coffee table, his hands clasped together, elbows on his knees sitting forward on the couch. “And I failed. I heard that asshole coming onto you and you threw him against the wall I thought oh, maybe she’s got it covered. She’s not the victim here. But tonight I saw just how hard I failed you and… I’m sorry.” He spoke with a slow pace to think of his words before he said them. “I never wanted this for you.”

“Me either.” You barely got out, hit with heavy feelings from his words. God you didn’t know what to do with honesty anymore did you? Any excuse you’d heard from a guy in years was bullshit. But that was real. It was more than real it was vulnerable and raw. He gave you a part of himself and apologized. Actually apologized. Your brain slowly inputs the information you had just heard, running on a delay. “I threw a guy into a wall?” You asked in the silence and he looked up at you.

“You were totally faded. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I figured you might from the words you had with him before you left school… that day.”

“I threw HIM into a wall?” You asked with high brows.

“He was… coming onto you. And not… nicely.”

“That’s being polite.”

“It wasn’t the first time was it?”

“Nope.” You popped your p.

“And you told him you’d tell your boyfriend everything about him. Lying, stealing, and trying to sleep with you. You said you’d ruin his life.”

“Shit, I wish I remembered. That sounds amazing. I bet that felt good as hell to get off my chest.” Your body language was slack again, no longer responding to a threat. “I guess that answers my question as to why he did it.” You hummed, chewing your lip before going and sitting next to Eddie on the couch. “I threatened him so he had to take me out before I took him out.” You nodded and Eddie watched the realization move across your face. “Those are the rules.” You shrugged.

“Doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“I’m supposed to say that.” You hit his knee with the back of your hand. “Not you.” You shared a light in your eyes that pushed passed the sadness for a moment.

“Sorry.” He gave you a small unintentional smile as you looked at one another in resigned misery.

“I’d like to explain what happened if you can you handle that?” Your motion to your bruised arm.

“Yeah. I was caught off guard before. I’m okay now.”

“Good.” you nodded and rubbed your knees, straightening your back before you began your upsetting tale. “I went for a bike ride after I got home that day. I had to get out and wear myself out so I’d stop feeling like I was going to explode. And of course, once he got to school he left to find me and he did. He pulled up on the side of the road and we… talked. If that’s what you wanna call it.” you shrugged and sighed. “This-“ you held up your forearm. “was from him grabbing me so I didn’t ride away at one point. So that was intentional. But the rest wasn’t.”

“The rest?”

“Yeah.” You grimaced, reluctant to share. “If I tell you, you can’t kill anyone.”

“I’m already pissed about the arm, just not at you.” He made sure you understood.

“Well, it gets worse.” You smile but it’s obviously fake as you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers. “But I don’t want us to fight so I need to know I won’t get the brunt of your misplaced anger.”

“No, you won’t.” he groaned.” I’m sorry about before, really. This week has been very weirdly hard for me too. I’m not making this about me I swear I’m just saying.”

“It’s so nice to talk to someone who just says what they’re thinking.” You look at him with an odd smile.

“Most people hate it. Think it’s annoying.”

“Those people haven’t had the distinct displeasure of dealing with psychopaths.” You shook your head to clear it. “Anyway. Arm yeah. Bad. But I told him everything about his so-called best friend and to no one’s surprise but mine he didn’t believe a goddamn word I said.” You threw your hands up in defeat to sell your point.

“Oh, fuck.” he whispered.

“Yep. Instead, he got mad at ME.”

“I won’t kill him because you said not to but I hope someone else does it for me.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” You rolled your eyes, recalling the indignant way your boyfriend had been so wrong about everything. “I told him everything and repeated it and gave examples and he denied denied denied and ended up shoving me. Which again, his bad. That’s on him. But I was straddling my bike and he made me lose my balance and fall. I was over on Route 930 with the embankment on the side. And I fell down that son of a bitch.”

“Holy shit are you okay? I mean dumb question but nothing’s broken right?” He rushed out and touched your back and you winced again.

“Again.” You lean forward to meet his eyes. “I’ll show you but don’t get mad.”

“Sweetheart I’m gonna get mad at YOU. I swear.”

“If you swear.” You unzipped the hoodie to reveal the tank top you had on underneath as you slid it off your shoulders. “It’s on my legs and hips too but I’m not gonna take my pants off to show you. Sorry.” You smirk in the face of Eddie’s pitying gaze. “Turns out there’s cement down that thing. Who knew?” You laugh in an attempt to belittle the damage. He sees the bruises starting to age, the road rash on your back with a smattering of scratches and cuts.

“Did you go to the hospital?” He asked quietly, the concern he gave so freely made your chest hurt in a new way.

“No. Me and my first aid kit had a long night together. Wore me out.” another joke that finally made him frown, telling you you didn’t have to do that. “I couldn’t get the ones on my back in some places super well. But the shower and stuff cleaned them up.” You turned your head to see your shoulder.

“Christ.” He whispered, fingers governing over the irritated marks. “I’ve got a first aid kit. You need those cleaned.” It wasn’t a suggestion as he stood and was already walking to the bathroom. You were sitting on the couch watching him walk away with purpose before he realized you weren't behind him. “C’mon you don’t want those to get infected.” He motioned for you with his hand as you followed him into the bathroom without complaint.

You stood in front of the water speckled mirror, hands on the counter and eyes on him. He was so quiet and concentrated as you felt him lightly touch the wounds. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, the kit open and surprisingly full of stuff. You supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise, Eddie always tended to get too excitable and hurt himself. You guess that was still true about him.

It was quiet except for the hisses from you and the apologies from him for the pain. You were used to seeing him loud and boisterous, a young bull bucking back at society at large with his bold opinions and taste. You realized that both of you had changed. Maybe not so much outwardly. You’d both been on opposite ends of the high school spectrum but in private he was now capable of calculated movements and attention. The Eddie you knew before you derailed your friendship couldn’t do that. He was clumsy and oafish, limbs too long too quickly, and hormones raging that kept him from saying and doing what he meant. But he was 20 now, it was hard to believe. When you were younger you’d always wondered what he’d look like when he got older. You never saw his parents that you recall. You only remembered one day this rough and tumble skinny boy showed up at your neighbor Mr. Munson’s. And you’d been inseparable for years after that. But now he was grown. You both were. Childhood was nothing but a memory now. You pushed away the past to focus on the present as another sting crawled across your shoulder.

“I know. Sorry.” he whispered, tongue peeping out in concentration.

“I’m sorry too.” you let out an exhale, he felt your body bend under his hands as you hung your head.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” it sounded harsh and his brow looked the same, but you didn’t feel any anger in him now. “You’re the one that’s gotten the short end of the stick here.”

“I don't mean for this.” you shook your head and raised it again, looking at him in the mirror. “I do a little, coming over here, messing up your night. It’s late, you’ve had a long day, the last thing you wanted to do was fight with me and play doctor.”

“Not the sort of playing doctor I’m used to.” he grinned, meeting your eyes in the reflection for a moment to make sure it made your face look less sad.

“I bet.” you chuckled and unlocked your elbows. “I mean for everything. All of it.”

“We don’t have to do this right now.” he stopped, a hand to your arm to look at you and not your reflection. “You’ve had one of the worst weeks of your life, you don’t have to add this to it.”

“Add it? So you did mean it when you said not to come crawling back to you crying.” you looked away, and he saw your eyes darken with hurt. “I thought…nevermind.” you whispered.

“Not like that.” he shook his head and pulled you to stand straight up by the shoulder. “It’s going to bring up a lot of stuff. A lot of emotions and you’ve had your fair share of them in the past few days. You’ve gotta be exhausted. I can patch you up and you can leave and knock out and sleep. You don’t have to fix all the world’s problems tonight.” he offered with a warm voice that drew an exasperated sigh from your tired body.

“I don’t deserve any of this.” you frowned and put your hands back on the sink counter, you couldn’t face him with his big kind eyes.

“No, you don’t. I mean you’ve been awful. I won’t lie to you. But I don’t think you deserve this.”

“No I deserve all this bullshit.” you let out a quiet but unhinged laugh that caught him off guard. “I meant this.” Your finger poked the counter as you met him again in the mirror, it felt easier that way. “You.” you looked away then as his face filled with pity for you. “You being nice to me after the shit I did.”

“I did shit to you too if you recall.”

“Not like I did you,” you whisper and he hears a sniffle he chooses to ignore, going back to working on your road rash. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“Thanks,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry for the things I did too.”

“I started it.” you shook your head. “I should’ve believed you. You were the only one will the balls to tell me the truth.” you paused and winced at the burn of alcohol. “Still are. Now you’re all I’ve got.” the tears welled up in your eyes and he kept pausing his work, not knowing if he should comfort you or not. He was almost done. “Not that I’ve had anyone since you.” you barked out a mix of laugh and a sob. “This whole time I’ve acted like I’ve had everything and I’ve been the one with nothing. Alone in a room full of people. No love, no trust, no…” you broke into a sob.

“I’m almost done. Hold on.” he hurried his work, swabbing over the last bits of inflamed skin. The cotton was on the counter in a matter of 20 seconds, and in less than 2 he’d wrapped his arms around you. You refused at first, pushing him away weakly despite the tears running down your cheeks. You hadn’t cried in front of anyone since you were a child. You felt like a child. “Stop it. Stop being so mean to yourself.” he whispered as he forced you to his chest where a whine escaped you. He shushed you, a hand to the back of your head and one around your waist to avoid the newly cleaned scrapes on your back. “Let it out. I know this is a long time comin’.” He understood you. And you didn’t deserve the kindness. The acceptance of you at rock bottom, sobbing into an old friend's chest who should’ve told you to fuck off when you asked to come over.

But he hadn’t.

And here you were in his arms. You don’t know how long you cried, long enough to not know anything except the thrum of Eddie’s heart against his chest as you clung to it. The smell of laundry detergent and smoke in his shirt that was now soaked. The strength in those skinny arms that held you tight to him despite your fighting against it. You eventually tired yourself out again, your body no longer willing to give any more tears to the cause. You felt exhausted, nothing new, but also weirdly… peaceful. It was a foreign feeling that made you uncomfortable, you knew peace wasn’t to be trusted. It only meant you’d forgotten to be paranoid about something. You had sniffled and hiccuped enough for him to trust that you were through the worst of it.

“Oh God.” you groaned as you pulled away, snot and slick covering your face and his shirt. He only laughed at your embarrassment, but not in a condescending way. He reached for the box of tissues on the shelf and sat them in front of you where you quickly plucked a handful to clean your face. “I look like one of your D and D slime monsters” you let yourself chuckle as you swiped your face.

“A little.” he grinned as you blindly kicked at him with your foot, making him laugh. “You look like a woman who’s been through some shit and needed to have a good cry about it. And you are so… you’re good.” he said supportively.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked outright. His honesty must’ve been rubbing off on you because you didn’t weigh the statement before it left your mouth.

“Because I care about you. That’s what people do when they care. They take care of each other.”

“But I’m a total piece of shit.” you groan, your face now slime free.

“This would be a lot different if you hadn’t shown me that there was still that girl I knew in there recently. You were burnt out of your life, suppressing your true self that long, that hard will kill you eventually.”

“I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” you said with a varied expression of raising and lowering brows on your face as you realized the implication of your statement.

“What about… your boyfriend?” he asked with a tilt of his head. You let out a loud laugh that caught him by surprise.

“No, no I dumped his ass before he did it to me.” you bent over laughing. “I knew it was coming. So I pulled that trigger first before he could be truthful about saying he left me.”

“Thatta a girl.” he smiled.

“I am completely removed from the royal court.” you sighed. “No cheer, no boyfriend, nothing. I cut it out all.”

“But you loved cheerleading.” your face shot to his, your face drawn into concentration at his observation.

“How did you know?” you shook your head.

“You’ll think I’m some creep but I mean…I kinda am so whatever I guess.” he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “You have this smile that you make when you’re happy. And I mean actually happy, not faking it. You did it back in the day and you still do it now. It shows that chip in your tooth you got from chasing the animals around the woods. The only time I saw it was when you were cheering.” He saw tears well into your eyes again, and your bottom lip blubbed out. “Oh shit, I told you I’m a creep, I’m sorry I-” You almost knocked him on his ass when you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close. He felt a kiss on his cheek that made them blush rouge at the contact.

“You still remember that.” you choked out, happy tears for what might’ve been the first time in your life leaving your eyes with far less violence than the ones prior.

“Of course I do. I remember all that dumb shit you used to do.” you both laughed at that as his hands finally rest on your lower back to hold you.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you.” you whispered, pressing your head to his. “I know you know you were right but… fuck man, I’m just so fucking sorry.” you didn’t know how else to put it. You pulled back, bodies still close as you put his face into your hands. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.” you said so willingly it was his turn to feel the prickle of tears in his eyes.

“Oh c’mon…” he muttered and looked away.

“I mean it.” You said giving his head a small shake. “No one has remembered a single thing about me in years. No one thought about me when I wasn’t around. Or cared about me unless it served their purpose. But you’ve been here. Despite me being the fucking worst and you’re being so fucking kind to me now I don’t know how to process it because I’ve not had anything…nice in my life in so long.” you stepped back, realizing you might be acting a bit erratic. “I don’t know how to handle feeling…good. Happy.” you shook your head. “It makes me do things like grab you and scare you.” you blushed and looked away, leaving the warmth of him behind.

“Surprised. Not scared.” he clarified with a pointed finger and a blushing smile. “You’ve been with the wrong people. You know that. You’ve known it for a long time haven’t you?”

“So long it’s like I don’t remember being anyone else.”

“You… deserve people to be nice to you. You know that right? This version of you. That is honest and very human, deserves good things.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

“I’ll help.” he stepped forward and grabbed your hands. “We were best friends once. Me and this version of you. We were so close we were almost telepathic. We can do that again.”

“You’d still want me after all this?”

“Of course I do. Because it’s YOU. It’s not the queen bee, it’s not some jock’s girlfriend, it’s you. The real you. I’ve always wanted the real you around. It was that fake version that I hated. Not this messy… emotional… funny, smart complicated version of you. I’ve always liked her.”

“What if I don’t remember how to be her?”

“You already are you just don’t know it yet. Queen bitch wouldn’t be in my bathroom crying and apologizing to me. Or cracking jokes because she feels bad. Or giving ME compliments.”

“Fair point.” you finally cracked a wide smile. “I’m not used to gentle and kind. And that’s what you’re being. I can learn to be that again. I think. Especially if you’re around.” he had a crooked smile on his face at your attempts to be sincere.

“What I said back then…” he stepped in again, a hand to your cheek that was so warm it made you aware of how much your heart had already thawed in a few short days of not having to pretend to be someone else. “I didn’t mean it. Not really. Telling you to go. I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to lose you and I knew I was and I was scared.”

“I was too.” you admitted with a wince. “I thought you meant it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was too young to know how to handle my emotions. Hell, I’m not great at it now.” he laughed, his thumb soft against your splotched cheek.

“Makes two of us.” you let out a noisy sigh, leaning into his hand. The physical comfort felt good. “It’s been so long since someone just…” you laughed but the shine of tears made another appearance. You put your hand over his. “Nicely touched me.” you whispered, a frown appearing, but bravely looking him in the eyes to see his understanding and upset for the fact.

“I can imagine.” he mirrored his hand with his other, and you clasped onto it too.

“In a way that I needed.” your voice was barely a whisper, letting him know admitting it was difficult. The awareness of the desperation you felt now that you were safe about the lack of human comfort you’d had in your formative years hit you. “Thank you.” you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“You don't have to thank me, sweetheart.” he leaned in and kissed your forehead and the saddest smile he’d ever seen was on your face as he pulled away.

“Could I…” you began with a cracked voice and tried again. “Could I stay? Tonight?” you sounded so small.

“You want to?” his head tilted like a confused puppy, not understanding the question fully.

“I don’t want to be alone. Not after this.” you give a faint smile and lean into his touch, your hands stroking his own, still on your face. “I’m not ready to give this up yet.” speaking with your eyes shut made it easier. “It’s too nice and I need it too much right now.” you winced before opening your eyes. “God, being honest is so fucking weird.” your eyes went wide as you snarled your lip in realization.

“It suits you.” there was an endearing charm to his smile that you’d forgotten about. The double dimples appear and pull memories into the forefront of your mind. “I don’t mind if you stay. That’s fine,” he added quickly with a nod. “Honestly keeping an eye on your would help ease my stress a bit.” he gave your cheeks a small pat, signaling he was letting go before he did. “And speaking of…” he stood up straight and stretched. “You came here for something didn’t you?”

“I got more than I came for.” you laughed and wiped your face.

“So let’s go back to that plan. I’ll smoke you up, my treat- stop it’s my own stash don't worry about it.” he held up a hand before you could say otherwise. “We’ll dig out an old movie you used to like and we can just be two old friends catching up. Leave all this heavy bullshit behind for the night. Sound like a plan?”

“You always had the best ideas.” you approved with a smile.

You did just that. After a few beers, a lot of weed, and hours later you were both happy and fuzzy as you giggled and stumbled your way to his bedroom.

“It’s so nice to just… enjoy being high.” you muttered as you sloppily removed your hoodie.

“You smoke all the time.” he pointed out laughing, pulling back his covers as you’d already decided to head to bed.

“Yeah, but I can’t relax around them you know? I gotta be on guard.” you put your fists up like you were gonna fight and it sent you both into a round of laughter. “But I don’t gotta do that with you Eddie. I can just say shit. Do shit. And not wonder if I’m gonna get shit for it.”

“I like it when you say and do shit.” he nodded with a dopey smile. “Without thinking.”

“Not using your brain is A+ highly recommend it.”

“HIGH-ly” he said as you both started laughing again. You noticed him pause and stare, going quiet before you stopped and looked back.

“What?” you asked, swaying slightly.

“Noth-you uh- I…” he stuttered and shook his head looking away. You looked down to see in your lack of thinking you’d started taking your jeans off.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” You jerked them back over your hips. “My brain said get ready for bed and I went on autopilot. I didn’t mean to make it weird man.”

“No, no.” he flapped his hands and stepped across the room a few steps. “We’re going to bed. It makes perfect sense. I was…” he stopped and grunted. “In the interest of being honest. I didn't expect to see you in your panties and it threw me the fuck off.” you started giggling and he was relieved.

“I can sleep in your sweats or something, dude. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. This is your place. You’re the one doing me a favor here.”

“No, we’re sleeping. It’s fine. I was…as you can tell from my behavior tonight I don’t act appropriately when I’m caught off guard. So…yeah.” he rubbed his face with both hands.

“You sure?” you asked before unsnapping a button.

“Yes. positive. I want you to be totally comfortable. If we’re gonna be friends we gotta get used to this shit again. It’s just…different now.” You both blushed as you tried to be as casual as possible about taking off your jeans.

“It is different.” you admitted as you slid into his bed and covered your lower half with blankets without trying to look rushed about it.

“We were like… kids back then. We’re… not now.”

“Also I had those awful pajama sets I wore.” you added with a laugh.

“True.” he grinned, skinning his shirt off and it was your turn to bite your lip and act like you weren’t bothered. He didn’t look like the guys you had hung around with.

“I dig the tattoos by the way.” you broke the silence as he stripped down his boxers.

“Fuck off.” he says playfully and it makes you both smile.

“I mean it!” you slap the bed with your hands.

“You’ve gone after the squeakiest of clean looking boys for years, you expect me to believe you like tattoos?”

“Yes.” you gave an almost headbang of a nod. “I didn’t date them because I wanted to or liked how they looked. It was just something I had to do.”

“You say the most devastating things so casually it blows my mind.” he let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he switched off the overhead light and got into bed next to you.

“Honesty can be pretty devastating.” you nod with puckered lips looking nonplussed about the statement. “I’ve still liked a lot of the same stuff I used to, I just couldn’t say I did. Dating isn’t about love or attraction, it’s about power moves.”

“You sound like a scorned woman from one of my books.” he chuckled.

“I kinda am.” you laughed. “What’s that make you?”

“The court jester.” he said proudly.

“You’re more of a bard with the guitar and shit.” you motioned to the guitar hanging across the room.

“You remember what bards are?”

“Yes!” you rolled your eyes. “Like you said I’m still the same girl I just couldn’t act like I was. I remember the nerdy shit and I’ve partaken in the occasional book or movie when I was able to.”

“Secretly a nerd.” he tsked. “All this time.”

“Shut up.” you shove his shoulder.

“It’s nice you have you back.”

“It’s…nice to be back? I mean getting here was the drizzling shits but being here now with you and just talking and fucking around is very nice.” he laughed at your crude words again.

“You want the hall light on or need a night light?“ he asked looking around to see if he even had what he was offering.

“No, I like it dark.” You said with a content smile before shimmying down into the soft worn sheets.

“Nice. Me too.” He muttered turning off his lamp and swooshing the covers over himself dramatically causing the air to whoosh in your face and make you giggle. It was almost awkward, being back in his room together. But you felt contentment you hadn’t in years. The weed was certainly helping your likeliness of being happy right now.

“This is nice but also so weird. Right?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He whispered with a laugh. “Having you back is like we time jumped or something.”

“I feel like I missed out on a lot of stuff.” You admitted.

“Like what? You’ve been super busy.”

“Busy with stuff I didn’t wanna do.” You groaned.

“Was there anything good that happened?” The length of pause you took to think answered his question. Then you let out a giggle that made his chest warm to hear.

“Lots of funny things happened. But I couldn’t laugh at the time. OH MY GOD!” You shouted turning to face him and sitting up on your elbow. He quickly did the same in anticipation. “You get to hear all the dirt on them now! I get to give you all the gossip.”

“Holy shit yes!” He shouted. “I want to know what those idiots are really like. Tell me everything.”

“They are just as incompetent as you claim they are. They couldn’t survive on their own. All their mothers treat them like they can’t wipe their own ass it’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

“It’s still hilarious to me.”

“They’re dumb as shit. They get passing grades because they want them to play sports and their parents give donations to the school. It’s all fake.”

“Those mother fuckers. Giving me shit for being held back and they're the dumb ones.”

“You are so much smarter than they could even dream of being, Eddie.” You reached out to touch his arm. “You’re better in every way I can pretty much guarantee you that. I never minded your cockiness when it came to them because I knew you were right. I admired the balls it took to deal with them every day like you did and not crack.”

“Keep the compliments coming hun I’m loving this.” He laughed and hid his face for a moment.

“It’s true! You’re better than them. Not that you didn’t already know. But you are.”

“That’s a broad claim.”

“I would know. I mean… I know them far more intimately than I’d like to. You are by far funnier, smarter, more charming, hell, you’re cuter than any of them. And you have more personality than all of them put together. It’s like talking to a wet paper bag with them sometimes.” Eddie hid his face again as he laughed, his hand hitting the bed.

“I’m gonna get you high every night if you keep sweet talking me like this.” He let out a deeper chuckle, tucking his hair back and looking at you excited in the passive panels of moonlight that came through the curtains.

“I’ll gladly do this every night. This is so much fun. And it helps me so much. To be reassured that there are guys out there that aren’t cardboard cutouts of each other sharing one brain cell that gets passed around. Fuck it’s nice.”

“And I thought you were mean to me, damn.” He joked.

“I hate them. I don’t hate you. So of course I’m gonna give you all the insider details so you can make them cry with your rants.”

“Yes give me the real shit.” He wiggles closer and so did you. “I want to hit them where it hurts. Deep insecurities. Family secrets. I want it all.”

“Your wish is my command.” You cheesed and continued with an inner brightness that he was soaking up like a sponge. “Dylan? His sister is his mom. She had him so young they made up a whole lie to cover it up.”

“Holy shit.”

“Brandon still wets the bed and goes to therapy.” You tapped your finger on the bed. “Chrissy and Sarah both have eating disorders. But he’ll who doesn’t these days? I mean I had one for a while. But I don’t have to worry about that anymore!” You chirped at the good news. “Sully and Karen have been fucking in secret for god knows how long but her parents are super racist and won’t let them be together. Tina had an abortion. And my peach of an ex wiped his boogers on EVERYTHING. Any surface out of sight in his room? Disgusting.” You fake gagged.

“This is… I wanted it all but maybe some moderation this is a lot and I’m high as shit.” He let out a belly laugh in disbelief.

“Sorry I’ve never gotten to tell anyone the stuff I got on everyone to keep them in line.”

“How about we focus on that piece of shit ex of yours? I want to make him cry himself to sleep. What have you got?” He said with a cocky grin.

“He’s deeply insecure about his moles. He’s terrified he’s going to go bald like his dad. He refused to ever get fully naked. Not that I’m complaining about that.” You snorted out a laugh and leaned into Eddie. “I don’t think being naked would’ve helped that poor kid out anyway.”

“So he was bad in bed?”

“Such a bold question to a lady, Munson.” You gasped and clutched your chest as he guffawed at the insinuation that you acted like a lady at all.

“You brought it up. I wanna know so I can make my insults cut deep.”

“He can’t do anything deep if you know what I’m sayin’.” You wiggled one finger.

“I knew he wasn’t packing shit down there.”

“He’s… average I guess? “

“You guess?” He asked with humor but he was curious.

“Contrary to popular belief I’ve not slept with very many people.” You admitted a bit quieter. “I’ve seen plenty of dicks with the skinny dipping and their weirdly homoerotic tendency to whip it out to fuck with each other but up close? Not many. They didn’t deviate from each other much. Neither did the sex to be perfectly honest. You’ve probably slept with more people than me truthfully.”

“No fucking way.” He shook his head.

“Am I insulted or are you flattered?” You teased.

“I’m extremely flattered.” He let out a giggle.

“I know you and Melissa had a fling or something so I figured if you bagged her you were doing well for yourself.”

“You know about that?” His voice cracked and it sent you into a cackle.

“We all do you goober!”

“She was so embarrassed by me I figured she didn’t tell another soul.”

“Only takes one other person for the word to spread.”

“I didn’t fuck her, for the record. I don’t know what you heard.”

“Nah you just fingered her. Or that’s what she said.” You shrugged.

“You are so casual about this.” He said a bit taken aback.

“Well, sex has never really been a topic that’s scared me. Probably because it never meant much ya know?”

“I don’t actually.” He quieted and tilted his head.

“Alright if we’re gonna be friends I suppose I should just be honest.” You shrug. “Sex is a weapon. Was… a weapon. I used it to get what I want. It was transactional. I let them paw and hump for 4 minutes and my job’s done. Letting them think they did something for their fragile egos and I’m out of there. So talking about it is like talking about… sports. They did this, he did that and it was over and that was the game.”

“Again…” he began slowly. “Devastating words and you say it like it isn’t.”

“How is that devastating?” Your wrinkled nose was adorable to him but he felt bad for you. “You didn’t fool around with Melissa to get something on her to use against her? Like a security measure so she didn’t do something bad to you?” He let out the strangest laugh. It made you lean forward and study his face.

“No.” He shook his head. “I kinda weirdly liked her.” He saw that it didn’t register on your face. You blinked and your confusion didn’t move. “You probably know but I’ve… fingered a handful of cheerleaders.”

“Fingered a handful.” You giggled. “Phrasing.” You joked.

“Okay yeah, I should’ve seen that coming. But there’s the whole, bad boy schtick and forbidden fruit stereotype and I did know none of their boyfriends were doing it for them so they cozied up to me in private to get a taste of what it was like to be with the guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Be a little rebellious to secretly stick it to daddy or their shitty boyfriends.”

“This does not surprise me but I did not know it was so many.”

“But some acted like they liked me to get me to do it. Which is why I did it in the first place. After it happened twice I was like okay I see what’s happening here. And it was more… transactional. A hand job or a blow job is still nice whether you like the person or not and well… it made me feel good to make them feel good. They couldn’t take that away from me. So there were feelings to some degree involved. I talked to them, listened, and asked what they liked. Even if there wasn’t romance there I still treated them like they were people.” You didn’t respond for a bit, he saw your face shifting in thought.

“I’ve…” you frowned finally at your realization. “I’ve never done that.” You confessed.

“Liked someone?”

“I mean I’ve had a crush but anyone I’ve slept with? No.” The silence sat between you as he tried to not wrap you up and apologize for the life you’d had. Or the life you’d not had. “Come to think… if that’s what you do when you like someone I don’t think any of them liked me either.”

“Sweetheart I-“

“I knew they didn’t.” you dismiss with a wave before he felt too sorry for you “I knew they didn’t care about me. Because you see sex in movies and it’s when people care about each other. They kiss and touch and say nice things. It’s not a teeth-hitting kiss, a grope, and then in and out. I know that sex can be like that. Or that’s what I’ve heard. But I wasn’t sold on the idea. I mean no one’s even made me cum before so why would I expect something as extra as an emotional connection? That seemed like too much to expect.”

“These guys are worse than I even imagined.” He groaned and you felt his head bang into the mattress. “Did they even try to get you off?”

“At some point, they'd try to finger me but they didn’t know what they were doing and I didn’t care enough to explain so I’d pull that, oh I want you so bad I don’t wanna wait.” You faked a lusty voice that made his neck feel hot. “And got it over with.”

“But you’ve… had an orgasm before right?”

“Oh, tons!” You laughed. “But all by myself.”

“Well… at least there’s that?”

“I love sex if we’re talking about that.” You laughed. “Or I love orgasms so if sex involved those then yeah I’d probably be as big of a slut as people say I am.” That one did make him laugh.

“I’ve always liked to think of sex as a way to show someone you care about them.”

“That’s sweet.” You didn’t mean to sound so dismissive. It was a sweet idea.

“Or it’s about connecting with someone else physically and emotionally at the same time instead of having them be two separate things.”

“So you do like sex?” He honked out a laugh that made you feel shy about your question.

“Yes. BIG fan.” He nodded.

“So you’ve had that… sweet sort of sex before?” You spoke quietly again as if you were younger and asking him something risky about being older.

“Yeah.”

“What….” You stopped and sighed, not knowing if you should ask. It must’ve been obvious.

“Go ahead.” He rubbed your arm to calm you down.

“What was it like?”

“You want a play-by-play or what are you asking exactly?” He genuinely asked and it made you second guess your intention.

“I’m afraid my real question is too sad.” You admitted.

“With what you’ve told me so far it probably is. BUT I’m here to help! I meant that. I know now you’ve been through some… quite frankly fucked up shit. I want you to know what life can be life-should be like. So don’t feel like you can’t ask me something.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Dentists hate me.” He joked to lighten the mood and it worked.

“I guess… I’ve not had that before. That connection.” He has to lean in to hear your shy words of admission. “What’s it like to have someone care about you like that?” He doesn’t patronize you, he holds back his cooing and babying.

“I mean… you do now.” He offered. “I care about you. I like you. I feel like we’ve connected a lot the past few weeks, especially tonight.”

“I never thought of that. Yeah.” He saw something like a spark of hope in your face. “I care about you too. I Like you. All that stuff you said.” You bashfully smiled. “I’m new to this.” You mumbled and rolled to your back and let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s it like to have sex where you want the other person? “ your raspy questions asked to the darkness and not his face, he frowned at your loss. “And they want you. And you care about each other and treat them special and take the time to make each other feel good? I swear it’s like I can’t fathom it realistically. It’s so removed from my experience that I just…” you rest your hands on your stomach, the covers to your waist as you turned your head toward him.

It was like he had dug down into your inner layers to find you just as worried and scared as everyone else. It was raw and vulnerable and he loved you for it. He loved that you were able to access it and verbalize it for him. He loves that you trusted him with your most shameful questions. He had so many things he wanted to say. To promise. To do.

“I’m realizing now just how deprived of basic human decency I’ve been.” It was deadpan delivery but brutally honest.

“Yeah, you have been.”

“It’s better to know than not know.” You rubbed your forehead.

“Most people are awful. So as far as that goes you’ve mastered dealing with most people.”

“God, you’re so smart.” You say with wide eyes and no hint of it being a joke. “ I tell you something that makes me feel bad and you know how to make it sound not awful.”

“I don’t know about that.” He flushed deeply and looked away with a fidgeting nose.

“And you’re cute when you get embarrassed by compliments.” You layered on the praise again to your gift of a friend next to you.

Another stutter where he shoved your side softly in retaliation.

“This is about you. Not me.” He deflected.

“We’re gonna be here a long time if we’re trying to fix my problems.” You grinned.

“Lucky for you I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.” You kept surprising him, reaching out to touch his face with the back of your hand. He had his girl back, and he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself but he’d missed you.

“No one’s ever told me that before.”

“They should.” He insisted so harshly with quiet words that it made you smile, parting the sadness and making room for something better.

“Eddie?” He felt something in his chest as his name passed your lips into the darkness to caress his ears.

“Yeah?”

“I wanna know what it’s like.” He knew what you meant. But he didn’t want to believe it. He’d always seen through the words you chose and felt your meaning under them.

“What what’s like hun?” He took your hand into his own, scooting closer to look down at you.

“You’ve made me realize a lot tonight. I’ve missed out on the real things. And I want to know what it’s like to feel good. To be happy.” You sighed out a whisper. “And I know we care about each other. I didn’t remember what caring about someone else felt like and it’s so much. It feels nice. And I have such a… fucked up, as you said, view of sex. And if simply remembering what it’s like to feel cared for without sex is this good then I know I don’t even have anything to compare to how good real sex could be. Which is a little scary.” he could see the wetness of your mouth shining in the cool light as it opened but no sound came out as you tried to find your words. “And if I feel so safe with you… and we care about each other… which is the vital component that’s missing in my life so I thought maybe…” he still had to let go of your hand. It gave away that he knew what you were suggesting. “You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?” You smiled and it broke the worry across your face.

“I thought talking about sex wasn’t hard for you?” He grinned but it was kind, leaning down to kiss your knuckles as you let out an audible sound of emotion from the simple act. Neither of you was sure if it was pain, arousal, or confusion.

“If it’s not with you it is.” As smooth of an answer as you could’ve given. “If I don’t care about it.” You emphasized. “Then It’s easy to talk about.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea sweetheart.” He tried to hide the hesitancy on his face. “You’ve been through a lot in a very short amount of time. I don’t know if adding this to it right now would be… helpful.” He didn’t shy away from you, he rubbed his hand over yours, still clasped in his other. He was being attentive and supportive and you felt a new inner turmoil at not getting what you wanted from someone. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. Because you were sure about your suggestion.

“Okay.” You have a single nod and he heard an audible swallow from you. “Honesty time again.” You huffed out and squeezed his hand. “Do you want to have sex with me at all? In any capacity? I should’ve asked that first.” He laughed and you hadn’t expected it.

“Oh, you’re serious. Shit, sorry. The idea that I wouldn’t want to is so out there I thought you were just making a weird joke.”

“I mean I might not be your type. Or you could not be attracted to me.” You suggested.

“Babe.” He leaned in over you and smirked. “You know you’re hot. I don’t have to tell you that.”

“That’s just an opinion though. And you’re different from everyone else and if everyone else thinks that then you might not.”

“I do.” He nodded and laughed. “You don’t have to worry about that. Trust me.”

“Then next question. Or not a question but a… counterargument.” You said with brighter eyes. “I think the distraction would be nice. I think we would have fun and both enjoy it and honestly, an orgasm would be great right now. It’d mellow me the hell out. And getting off and going to sleep sounds like a perfect way to end the night.”

“I disagree with none of that. But I don’t want you to regret it later. Emotions are high, I don’t want you to act too quickly. And when you have sex with someone you care about… other things happen that you've not had to worry about before.”

“Like what?”

“Taking feelings into account. If you aren’t dating then there are questions as to what you are if you’re sleeping together. Or what you’re not. And someone could get feelings and someone wouldn’t reciprocate them. Feelings are messy. And as much as it feels like I’ve known you forever, because, in a way I have, this is still new. And I don’t even know how I feel so I can’t expect you to know how you feel about any of it yet.”

“It is so fucking nice to have someone just tell me what they’re thinking and not have to constantly second guess their motives or thoughts.” You give his hand another squeeze. “So I’ll do the same to you. I’m not as confused as you think I am. I was tired of the life I had for a long time. Letting it go is a relief. And I don’t have any interest in going back to my old Life no matter how this whole scandal plays out. And I can't promise you anything when it comes to what I will or won’t feel in the future so I won’t. But if I did get feelings for you, you don’t have to worry about me not telling you. Or be ashamed of you like those other girls were. I’d be lucky to have you. I’ve always cared about you and I only care more after today. And right now you’re my best friend. I know that. I don’t expect that to change. And I know feelings are messy, that’s why I’ve avoided them for so long. And if you don’t have those feelings for me then that’s fine too. At least we’d know. And if you did then we could date. And if I didn’t get romantic feelings for you then I’d still be willing to be around because it’s more than that with you. It’s always friends first.”

“Your ability to look inside my head and address my worries is uncanny. And impressive.”

“I had to learn to read people and think of every angle. It’s helpful.” You take the compliment casually. “My brain works fast. And it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever thought about us like that.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” He grinned

“I cover all angles. Like I said. And with our history, I’d considered what it would be like to be with you before. In case I needed to or wanted to. Or for nefarious reasons beyond my control that we won’t get into right now to bum us out.” You chuckle.

“It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it either.” He admitted.

“Really?”

“I hate to admit it but when I’d have to see you in your cheer uniform-“

“Oh god really? That did it for you?” You teased.

“It’s very little clothing in my defense.” He held up a hand in surrender. “And you do your dances and the splits and your flips and it’s like a peep show out there.”

“You’re not wrong.” You said supportively. “I felt the same seeing you play. That was… awakening. Even though the idea was planted years ago, to be honest.”

“When did I play years ago that did it for you?”

“It wasn’t that, I just had a big fat crush on you when I was younger.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He let out a teasing groan.

“I did!” you giggled. “You were older and nice and paid attention to me. That’s all it took.” You laughed and hid your face. “Then you started growing out your hair and playing electric guitar and you were so cool.”

“You’re pulling my leg now.”

“I swear. I didn’t say anything because I figured you thought I was just some annoying kid. You didn’t see me that way.”

“I didn’t…” he shook his head and hesitated.

“It was that summer wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Something changed that summer between us. And not just because I was hanging with those other guys.”

“Yeah you suddenly weren’t that scrawny kid anymore and you looked like you were my age and it messed with my head. Because your personality was good, you just weren’t old enough and then I turn 15 and my brain is horny nonsense and you’re all… hips and tits and also into the same shit I am. It was confusing.”

“That makes sense.”

“So I was a little jealous. But I wasn’t going to do anything about it and I was mad at myself over it so it was easier to push you away than deal with it.”

“Easier to hate each other than admit it was the opposite.”

“I knew you’d get it.”

“You don’t have to be jealous anymore.” You smiled with a 1000-watt power behind it. “I’ve ditched those other guys for you. You’ve got me here in your bed. Alone. Asking you to have sex with me. It doesn’t get better for 15-year-old you than that.”

“He’d be ecstatic. He’d have come in his jeans already.” You shared a laugh.

“Hopefully you don’t have that in common with him.”

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?” he shifted and jutted his chin forward, studying you as you nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“I am.”

“And this isn’t going to ruin things between us? End this before it even starts? You’re not gonna freak out and leave me hanging again?”

“Promise. I’m all yours. I don’t wanna leave. This is where I’m supposed to be. Always has been.” he saw the brief sadness in your eyes for the life that could’ve been. But the way you gave him an apologetic smile, it filled his chest with a warm and fuzzy feeling of hope.

“Already knew you were gorgeous. Didn’t know you could be so sweet too.” His voice phased into something different. Deeper, full of intention. “And also smart and funny and lots of other good things.” He blurted out as he scoot his body next to yours. Your hand now freed and sliding under him. “I don’t want you to think that I just think you’re pretty. You are you’re… I can’t believe I get to touch you to be embarrassingly honest but I know that’s something guys have told you so many times it probably means nothing now. But it means something to me. And I don’t want you to think this is just about me getting to be physical with you. Or claim some ownership over you or the shit that guys have done before. I want you to know you’re more than pretty. You aren’t one note. You’re complicated and interesting. I can’t have sex with your personality though.” He chuckled. “I just… I’m rambling now but I want you to know I think you’re gorgeous but that’s not all I think about you. So when I say something about how you look when we get into this that’s not all I see in you.”

“You’re going to make it hard for me to not fall in love with you saying things like that, Munson.” You touched his face softly, trying out something new as you traced his jaw and landed on his full lips.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish in his shock at your words and the tender way you touched him, fingertip tracing his mouth. You didn’t want to purposely fluster him but he wanted you honest. He just hasn’t expected you to be SO honest. At a loss for words he stalled, not knowing how to move forward from here, more words jumbled in his head wondering if they should be said before he continued. You took his attention and focused him with a soft touch and words, giving him the answer to his current dilemma.

“You can kiss me now Eddie. If you want.” You filled the silence and gave him something to focus on. A small nod before his bambi eyes shifted and he turned his total attention to you. You leaned your body towards him as his hand hovered over you trying to figure out where to land. It was awkward but not the sort you were used to. You were used to guys being try-hards. They laid on their so-called moves and it was embarrassing to watch. That was bad awkward. But this… this was good. You saw him think and worry- which was something you’d not seen a guy do up close very many times- about where to touch you because, to him, it mattered. Something as simple as the placement of his hand was so important to him that he took the time to look you over and make a proper decision. You watched his eyes dart about, minuscule twitches of his face as he thought. A jaw clenched, a swallow. When he decided on your cheek you were taken out of your head for a moment by the warmth and sincerity of his eyes meeting yours. He nudged himself against you, settling so he could properly kiss you. He hadn’t even touched his lips to yours and yet he had already outdone any guy you’d been with before. An odd feeling moved in your stomach as he took his time to capture your attention, to stroke your hair back, to look over your face as if it was the first time he’d seen it. Then slowly, painfully so he gently put his lips to yours. Small, soft, simple. A press.

After such a lingering build it felt like so little to be given. When your eyes bat open he was barely pulled away smiling at the confused look on your face.

“I wanna go slow with this okay? And you can tell me no or to stop at any time and I will.” The confusion stayed on your face. You’d never had anyone give you the option before. “Don’t oversell it either. I want you to make noise only if you want to, not to make me feel better. I don’t need the ego boost like those other guys.” He chuckled, flipping his hair to one side and a smell of piney shampoo waft over you. “I want you to tell me when you want things. If you want things.” He corrected. “This is new for you so I’m not going to judge you or make fun or something okay?” Now he was growing confused that you still wore your creased brow. “You can tell me if somethings wrong you know.” He insisted with a nod, his hand went back to stroking your cheek, trying to offer comfort in a small way.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just never had anyone say things like that before.” You shrugged subtly and shook your head the same.

“I was afraid of that.” He confessed with pursed lips. “We’ll take it slow. Like I said. Talk to me, and let me know that you’re feeling good. If I’m too fast, too hard, tell me. This isn’t about me. This is about you. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings if you tell me I’m doing something wrong. I don’t know your body, I’m not going to get everything right the first time by chance.” He gave a throaty laugh that eased your newly found nerves about sex. You were starting to wonder if you’d ever had it at all.

“I might…” you winced your lip and swallowed audibly. “I might need some help with the talking. I’m used to dirty talking but not actually… telling of things.”

“Then I’ll ask you now and then if you’re good. That work?” A quick enthusiastic nod made his eyes crinkle with happiness at the sight as he kissed your cheek. “Focus on me and what feels good. Don’t think too much. You don’t have to be worried about anything anymore alright? This isn’t a power move or whatever you called it.” He grinned when you giggled at his choice of words. “This is just two people who care about each other, making each other feel good. That’s all. So relax and enjoy it.”

“I’m gonna try.” You answer sheepishly. “I’m not used to being inexperienced.” You admit. “Makes me nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about. You’re not performing. You’re just laying there looking pretty.” He added supportively. “And you’re killing it by the way.” He brushed his nose to yours and you felt a jerk in your stomach as a new sort of giggle bubbled out of you. Were you blushing? Your face was warm. Wait- We’re you just…giggling? That was an involuntary sound you just made. Your face grew warmer, embarrassed a guy had made you feel something. You judged yourself from the inside. But watching him beam down at you with nothing but adoration on his face reminded you that this was the whole point. You were allowed to feel now. So you let yourself gulp and sigh, shifting your legs together and snuggling down into the sheets.

“I’m ready.” You whispered. It wasn’t entirely convincing but your bitten lip and nod as you bravely met his eyes told him you were ready to try.

He hovered again, and this time with more confidence he planted his lips to yours. That queasy feeling in your stomach returned as you focused like he told you to. His lips were warm and plump. Fuller than the other guys you’d kissed. A press separated with a sweet quiet sound of disapproval from your lips as if they wanted to be together. One gentle round of parting and pressing turns to another. Then another. He was slow and thorough. Unrushed as he let it build between you. You’d never noticed if someone was a good kisser or not. You’d never kissed anyone long enough on the mouth to know for certain. By now it would be to your neck or chest or over already. He kissed you breathless, having to break with ghosted mouths just to get air. Then he brought you together again- your lips circles and now tongues a perfect ven diagram as the heat bloomed across your skin.

He felt your body tense, worried for a moment before he felt you push back against him with subtle eagerness. He took it as a signal of permission as he angled his head and opened his mouth to tangle his tongue with yours. A sound you’d never heard before crawled secretly out of your throat, a hand raised to hold his bicep as the flood of warmth began to wash over your body. Your breathing quickened. You didn’t know a kiss could make you breathless. You had lost track of how long he’d indulged your oral fixation by indulging his own. A kiss had never drawn anything from you. Not a moan or a sigh. Certainly never compelled your body to act on its own, your hands now touching his skin chilled from the air of the room. You felt his hair tickle your face and fingertips. You felt torn. There was a feeling of deep satisfaction to be had in the simple act. Alongside it grew something impatient and greedy. Want.

You wanted more.

You’d never wanted a man to touch you more. A burn between your thighs had started. You didn’t know how to ask. The thought of letting out what would surely be a pathetic rasp of ‘more” seemed embarrassing. So you did what you knew better than talking and showed him. On another press and suck of lips and tongue you purposely move your arms up to encase him and pull him closer. Not purposely you whine pitifully into the embrace as he reads your signal loud and clear- his arm moving down your body to hold your waist and pull your body closer.

Then your spark turned into a flame.

Desperation was thick like the saliva shared between nearly panting tongues. You ventured boldly into the mass of curls that were oh so much softer than they looked. You did as he had to you and held the side of his face as he lay over you. Your hands had their own plans, finding their way to his back to feel the slender frame almost on top of you now. With the grasping of his naked torso and the way more hungry sounds left you, he ventured forward boldly to put his hand under the covers and touch the bare skin of your hip. A moan he ate up with his own left as soon as the sear of his palms touched you. A little faster than he would liked to he grabbed the meat of your ass, clad in soft cotton and pulled you in a way that made your knee raise to try to wrap around him. You weren’t feeling as timid as he expected by the way you returned the favor to grab his ass back. Your hand clapped for a moment, causing him to break the kiss to find you yanking the covers that had been pinned between you and keeping you apart.

“Fuck these blankets.” You muttered as he couldn’t help but let out a laugh at your annoyed face. The sound distracts you as he helped finish the task and kissed your cheek.

“You’re so cute when you get all worked up like that.” He whispered into your ear and your body responded with goosebumps exploding over your skin. He hoisted you by the hip to bring it over his. “This what you wanted?” He made a checkpoint as your chest rising and falling so fast was a good tell he was doing his job.

“Mmm hmm.” So small with your nod and bitten, swollen lips. “I wanted more of you touching me.” It came out much less dizzied than you felt. You were proud of the ability to speak for yourself amid a make-out that was changing your point of view on sex entirely.

He managed to look smug without seeming condescending. Another first for you.

“Telling me what you want…” a more sinister grin spread as he kissed your jaw, pressing your head to the side. “That was perfect, baby.” A kiss on the shell of your ear as his deepened voice cooed into it made you shudder. You knew he had to feel it. Hear it when you opened your mouth with a tiny gasp at the words of praise. “That’s my good girl.” He pat your ass and nuzzled into your hair. Two words you weren’t sure had ever been said to you sent your heart fluttering in your chest. Your face looked disgusted by it, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

You’d never been good. Certainly not a good girl and definitely not someone’s- his good girl. It made 13-year-old you pining for your cool neighbor squeal in delight. A whimper left your throat as you exhaled shakily, taken aback by how hard soft words could hit. “You liked that didn’t you?” You didn’t have to see the smirk to know it was there. Your nose wrinkled and lips scrunched together in a playfully angry face- unable to be angry and truly, not wanting to be.

“Yes.” Was gritted out before a breathy laugh left you, a push of a kiss landed on your cheek, his arms squeezed you tight against him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It turns me on to know what turns you on.” Another sentence to make you question how he wields the power to make your eyes roll back on command like that. Maybe he did know magic like the rumors said. You certainly felt bewitched.

“It’s hard to admit when something -someone… you affects me.” You swallowed. “And you are…. very much affecting me, Munson.” A smile you didn’t plan spread like wildfire across your face as the charm oozed from his pores with two darling dimples making an appearance.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been so… affected too sweetheart.” He admitted with a shake of his head, his hair bigger and messier from your hands playing in it. You loved the way it looked on him. “You’ve got me so fuckin hard.” It was more of a statement, an observation meant to be flattering on his behalf. So when you snarled, a sharp inhale and a moan before crashing yourself against him again he was surprised for a second before it was quickly lost among the ever-consuming thoughts of you.

Something more desperate grew within you, tongues talked outside of mouths and lapped at swollen lips. You pulled his hair back to see a handsome jawline that you attacked with your mouth. Your hand traveled, feeling his taught stomach and chest, feeling the groan vibrate through it when your kisses made their way to his throat. You nipped his collarbones, feeling feral and acting on instinct for the first time. You wanted to sink your teeth into him but refrain. Instead, you let your mouth share one of the thoughts pinging around your skull as your hands felt him up.

“You’re so- ugh- sexy Eddie.” You murmured, voice distorted as your tongue covered a spot you’d bitten. Then he moaned. A beautiful sound. You’d never heard a guy openly let a moan out that wavered and whined. There was no brute grunt and groan to it. It was like a song. Light and airy and honest into the dark of the room as his head knocked to the side and you played with him. “You sound so pretty.” You smiled against his neck.

“P-pretty?”

“Your moans.” You whispered into his ear and he shuddered, a whine when your nails grasped into his back. “I want more.” You asked nicely, a hand he didn’t expect, landing on his cock. He jumped and to your surprise grabbed you by the wrist. You shot back to see his face, worried you’d done something wrong.

“This is about you.” He shook his head. “Not me.” He huffed out a laugh as he cleared his head with squinted eyes.

“And I want you.” You answered back quickly and certainly. It felt so good to hear it. Especially in a voice so needy.

“You’ll get me if you want me.” He nodded, a promise as he moved you back by your hip to put you back into your back. “But I’ve gotta make you cum first.”

“But- “ your eyes darted between his gorgeous face and his hand resting on your lower stomach. “I thought I might do that when we had sex?”

“You will.” Something so cocky bubbled up in his demeanor that you glared a little. But only because you liked it. You’d never seen him like that. He was so self-assured it felt like a challenge. But it was a promise instead. You weren’t used to guys keeping their promises. But the understated way he held himself in confidence in the confines of the bubble between you told you he’d be the one to keep them to you. “I want to focus on you first. You’re so used to doing things to the other person I want you to know what it’s like.” His hand ran up your front slowly as he spoke. “I want to make you feel good, baby.” He whispered, again over you with you trembling beneath him. “Can I do that?” You gave another enthusiastic nod that made him smile every time he saw it. “Can you use your words for me?”

“You can. Yes. I… you’re right.” You settle back and chew your lip as he slows down, a kiss to your temple.

“Can I touch you?” There was something sickeningly sweet about the question and you couldn’t put your finger on it at the moment but it made you smile.

“Of course.” You nod, bumping your nose into his. “I want you to touch me.” You clarified as you knew he wanted. You’d never wanted to do things to make the other person like you. Make them approve of you.

“Using your words again. Good girl.” Oh right. That might be why you wanted to do what he said.

Your lashes fluttered and you let your eyes close at the end of a heavy exhale at the words showing him you were ready to focus. Since you’d gone for his neck he figured you might like that yourself. He found his theory correct when you let your head fall to the side and gave him your throat willingly. He started sweet to build you back up again, more than happy to take his time and make this last as long as possible. He kept his hands tight to your body never venturing above your ribs as he nursed at the curve of your neck. Your hand held to the back of his head to keep him close. Once he was satisfied that you had relaxed again, head swimmy and distracted, his kisses traveled to your collarbones first, still gentle but firm. After a trek from shoulder to shoulder his lips found yours again. Brought out of a lovely daze you kiss him back. You hum and smile into his kisses, biting his bottom lip or sucking it noisily until you giggle. You felt like you’d smoked again. A bit high on intimacy. The comfortable headspace was broken when a large hand finally intruded onto the space of your chest. His kisses were almost enough to distract you from it. Almost. With the way your body was responding in ways you hadn’t experienced before any touch to an area as sensitive as your nipples was sure to be noticed. With each step forward he worried it would be met with hesitancy. He was too caught up in your past to consider you’d left it and were very focused on the present. You were yet to confirm those thoughts as his gentle grope drew a small muffled noise, caught between your kneading lips. Your enthusiasm drove him forward, thumb brushing over your already hard nipple, a shift of your hips and an accompanying grunt show your approval. When he felt your nose twitch against his, still occupied in a heated makeout, he pinched and rolled the hard bud as it begged for more attention from his hands. The next level of moan began as a wobbly sound left your mouth as it parted against his.

“Good?” a rhetorical question really but he wouldn’t break his promise of checking in on you frequently.

“Can’t you tell?” you breathed a soft laugh against him before pushing him away to sit up and strip your tank top off and fall back into the bed leaving him in awe at the sight of you laid out beneath him.

“You’ve always been impatient.” a smile slowly grew on his face as he realized he needed to do something besides stare.

“Some things never change.” you give a breath laugh, settled back onto a pillow, and rub his bicep before taking his hand and putting it back onto your chest.

“Please tell me these… two beautiful girls have gotten enough attention over the years. I don’t think I could handle it if they were neglected all this time.” his eyelids seemed heavier now, half open as he kissed the weight of your chest, his nimble fingers already tweaking your sensitive nipple again.

“Not as much as they deserve.” you smirk, running your hand over his hair as he cuddled up to your face first.

“They deserve monuments built to them, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss to the center. “You’ve had them sucked on before right?” his face was toward your body, nose nuzzling and throat humming at the impossible softness as the tip of his nose grazed toward your other nipple but his eyes found yours as he asked.

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“You like it?” a hopeful smile appeared before being broken by his tongue lapping out over the popping centerpiece.

“Sometimes it’s like my nipples have a direct line to my clit. I can feel it down there when they’re touched up here.” your fingertips ghosted over his manipulating hand and down your body. He groaned at the effect the combination of words and action had on him. He didn’t make you wait, mouth greedy with his hesitancy being forgotten the more of you he got to see and explore. The hungry sounds and the tense hands holding you down fogged up your brain deliciously, letting you bask in the enjoyment. You let yourself be pleasured, head back, eyes closed, mouth slack as he pressed his hard hips to your side, mouth open as it panted for the opportunity to taste your skin, seeking out the other side. “That feels so good, Eddie.” you sighed and he grunted at the sound of his name in praise. “You can suck harder.” Immediately he followed your instruction drawing a moan from you, your legs shifting feeling him hard against you. “Yeah, like that.” you whined, looking down at him to find him already watching you. He gave a small bite and you yipped before dissolving into a squealed giggle and wrinkling your nose playfully. “You can be a little rough, I like it.” you whisper as you watch his eyes roll back into his head, his nose mashed into you. He gave your nipple not inside his mouth a twist and you moaned, legs parting involuntarily and circling to find some friction. After he had you whimpering, a mouth-watering sound, every breath a whine as you pouted and begged with your eyes first. “I want you to touch me. I can’t take much more of this teasing or I’m gonna do it myself.” it was meant to be a little funny, as unserious was a very comfortable place for you to land in with him. You frowned at the disappearance of his hand before you felt it travel farther south, cupping you over your panties. “Yes.” you nod and chew your bottom lip as he pops off your nipple with swollen lips.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” he asks quietly, his voice thick and deep. The pet name made you audibly sigh.

“I know ‘you’ isn’t an answer you’ll accept but fuck, Eddie.” you groan as a broad grin grows across his face, lighting him up from the inside out. “I’ve never been this turned on before.” you laugh and hide your face. He moves them gently, kissing your cheek and then your lips as you give him unintentionally sad eyes. They weren’t there to manipulate someone for the first time, you didn’t know what you were doing, acting purely on instinct.

“How about I start with showing you what someone using their hands on you should feel like.” he brushed his nose to yours and you welled up inside with emotion. You wanted to scream, the lack of control over how he was making you feel was almost overwhelming. Every inch of your skin wanted his touching it. Your clit could be felt when you rubbed your thighs together, a hot slick you didn’t know you could create already seeping through your panties. It was even better than he’d made it sound.

“Please.” a quick nod as you licked your lips in anticipation.

“You’re asking so nicely.” a deep condescending chuckle left him, he couldn’t help it. He had you in his bed wiggling and writhing, begging with wet eyes. He had earned being a little cocky about it. He was about to earn being downright smug. Eddie knew he was good with his hands. It was what he was known for. Guitar or pussy, he was your man if you wanted the job done right.

“I’m trying. I feel a little out of it.” you laughed into his kiss.

“Just wait.” he bit your bottom lip and your hips shimmied with excitement as you slid your panties off and they were tossed to the darkness of his room with your tank top. He laughed at your excitability, eyes bright even in the dark. The light from outside was enough to see the shapes and shadows, with slats of brightness scattered about. To settle you he ran his strong hands up and down your inner thighs to spread them until they knocked open without resistance. His kisses kept traveling a well-loved path from your lips to your neck and back again as he worked you dizzy with his fingers. He moved as if he’d been there before, slipping between your lips and with a few teasing passes finding the beacon that made you gasp on contact. “Tell me what you do when you touch yourself?” a question that made you shudder as circles around your clit made your face wince and shift.

���Think of you?” you giggled, nuzzling into him when he bit your earlobe at your response. “I uhm-” you began trying to concentrate while he touched you, showing him you would answer him seriously. “I tend to favor the left side. Up and down?” your voice inflected as if you didn’t know. “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re touching me like this.” you admit softly as he works away at the muscles in your neck with his mouth. “The…arch is really sensitive, like the peak… the - shit, yeah there.” your voice goes hoarse. “I switch up what I do, but when I’m close I like to keep doing the same thing so I don’t lose it.” you managed to get out with breaks of moans and gasps.

“And you said you wouldn’t be able to tell me anything. I’ve got you singing like a little bird.” he hummed into your ear, a kiss following.

“I want more of it, you found a way to get me to talk.” you giggled, wrapping your arm tighter around him, your hand stroking up and down his bare arm to feel the flex of his muscles as he rubbed expertly. You let your body do what it wanted with no judgment. Your feet began to push into the bed, your hips angling, starting to jerk as your breathing became increasingly ragged. He earns the occasional mindless praise of “Fuck yeah. Yes. Like that.” as your voice inflected upward, your back arching.

“You’re so wet I could slip my fingers right inside you. You want me to fuck you with my fingers?” he cooed in your ear, his hips shifting against you, holding back on rubbing himself against you for friction.

“No.” you shook your head, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m close. I don’t want you to stop.” you begged.

“Fuck I can’t wait to watch you cum.” he confessed, watching your lips tremble as every breath elicited a sound. “You’re so fucking pretty.” he whispered watching your body writhe, covers no longer hindering his view as a sheen of sweat started to form. He watched your hand reaching for your chest to twist a nipple as your eyes lolled back into your head and another throaty moan escaped. “Want me to suck on your tits again baby?”

“Fuck-PLEASE-yes!” you cried, a sincere chest stuttering whine as your hips moved in circles against his hand. He latched on, no further instruction needed as your head raised and you looked down to see how on earth he was making you feel so good with a single finger. It wasn’t fair. The sight of his full lips and nearly black brown eyes predatory on your slack-jawed face made it hard to keep your eyes open. Every swirl of his finger got you closer, your eyes inching back a little more. “That’s so fucking good. Don’t stop Eddie please it’s SO good.” your voice took a downturn, deepening as your stomach began to tense. Your hand was taught in his hair, holding him to you as he grunted and snort as you nearly suffocated him but he was in no headspace to complain. “I’m gonna cum.” you squeaked out. “Holy shit.” you gasped, the disbelief clear in your voice. “Oh my god you’re gonna make me cum.” a crazed laugh escaped you for a moment full of elation and surprise. “Ugh.” you called out as the peak was inevitable now. “Eddie. Shit.” you gasped and groaned, your body moving in a new way as you jerked and snaked, you tensed all over, you were loud with no intention to be to show off. Your inhales were sharp and sang. Nonsensical babble that made Eddie smile with satisfaction that only making you cum calling his name could give him. He was the only guy to ever do it, and he didn’t intend on it being the last of the night. “Oh my GOD.” you shouted as he didn’t stop even after you finished, with a shaky hand you gripped his taught wrist and whined cueing him to stop. You collapsed back and caught your breath, feeling his mouth dot kisses over your chest before finding your hot cheeks. He brushed your hair back, allowing you to cool off as your hair had started to stick you in places. “Fuck you, Eddie Munson.” you growled but it was with a beaming smile. His loud laugh was cut off by your mouth crashing into his. He’d awakened something, a need you’d never felt before. You wanted-no-needed, craved more of him even after you came. He leaned into it, a hand on your ass as you threw your knee over his hips, yours still rolling. “I’ve never needed someone so badly before.” you panted out as your tongues lapped at one another. It was messy and from the outside would’ve been a little gross to you but in the moment you wanted nothing more than every part of him as inside you as possible.

“You’re so sexy. Shit. So goddamn good. I wanna make you cum again, baby. Can I?”

“If you don’t fuck me I will kill you.” he laughed again, face finding the curve of your neck as his hand grabbed a handful of ass with a slap and shake.

“How do you want it? I don’t wanna hurt your back, hun.”

“Hurt it, I don’t care.” you bellowed.

“You want on top? Or from behind?” he gave you options as he sucked your neck and felt you up, hand rubbing over your downy soft center. “No, I wanna see your face. Gotta see you cum.” he muttered. “Want to watch you baby.” another mumbled free-flowing thought tumbled out of his mouth as you grabbed at his hard cock through his boxer and his head bonked into your shoulder.

“I don’t care how.” you insisted.

“I know.” he popped his head up, turning away and removing his boxers in an instant, his hard cock bounced and made your mouth water as he sat up against the wall where his headboard would be. “Sit in my lap. Ride me.” he slapped his thighs as you eagerly wiggled your hips, already to all fours awaiting his input. “I can still fuck you like this. Not having you do all the work.” he grinned and splayed out. Neither of you noticed the way you licked your lips at the sight of the other, you were too busy drinking it all in. He reached to his bedside table, fumbling with a condom as he ripped it with his teeth. He got to see your body in motion, the way it moved as he stroked his cock, watching you prowl his way and straddle his legs.

“Just a taste.” you grabbed him by the base before he could slip the condom on wanting to feel the velvet smoothness of him in your mouth. He didn’t need to get harder to fuck but you needed to show off a little too. You knew your head game was good and thought it only fair if you also made him swear and sing like he had you. You sucked and stroked, popping off and jerking him onto an outstretched tongue with a smile.

“Goddamn…” he groaned pushing your hair back to watch you lavish him. You were wet and messy, downright sloppy as you spit on him and hollow your cheeks to gag as he hit your throat. A quick tongue bath for his balls made his legs spread and his head thump against the wall. “Fuck yes baby that’s it.” he grabbed your hair to hold you for a moment, relishing in the feeling of you sucking him into his mouth, trying to stuff both balls into your mouth at once. “Dirty girl.” he bit his lip and grinned, “But so fuckin’ good.” he gritted his teeth as he pulled you away and sank you onto his cock, having a little rough fun before returning his attention to you fully. You were a bit rabid and he fucking ate it up. He hadn’t known what to expect but a feral blow job hadn’t been it. With a little attention, you’d turned into a lusty, greedy hellcat who was showing him a few firsts too. No one had practically eaten his balls like that before for willingly gagged themselves. Your face shined in the low light covered in spit and pre cum. He pulled you to his mouth, albeit gently by the hair, and ran his tongue across your panting lips to taste himself.

“You’re so fucking hot.” you moaned, taking the condom from his hand and slipping it on him as you kissed him hard. You were tired of waiting. You were known to be impatient during sex but impatient to finish. Not impatient to get more. You giggled at the thought that you might be a slut after all. But only for one man, it seemed. You weren’t bothered by it. Maybe you should be. But you weren’t. It only filled you with warmth like you hoped he would.

“Yeah?” he huffed with a rapidly rising and falling chest, looking up at you, his hand at worship on your waist as he watched you descend upon him with blown-out eyes.

“You are. I mean it. Always have been.” you cooed as you ran him through the slick nest between your thighs. “You’re handsome but this cock…shit baby…” you hummed and smiled, notching the head of him inside you. “This cock is exquisite.” you chose your words carefully. You wanted him to know how impressed you were. How he was different from any other guy. You muffled a moan by biting your lip as he slid in quicker than you anticipated with how wet and needy your pussy was. You’d never been so wet, so painfully open and hungry before. “Fuuuuuck.” you let out a high-pitched laugh as you raised yourself a bit to ease taking the rest of him in. “You are somethin’ else, Munson.” A deep rumble of praise from your chest as you grabbed the sides of his face, holding yourself up still, not able to take him in. “You’re gonna make me slow down with this big cock.” you giggled as you kissed him softly but with intent.

“I can open you up baby, don’t worry, stay juuuuust like that.” he shifted his hips making your lashes flutter before you realize he was planting his feet to fuck up into you. He pushes until he feels resistance, feels your greedy pussy tighten at the discomfort. “You can take it. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” he held your hips and slowly worked himself in and out of you, venturing further each time. He reached down to rub your clit, watching your face give over with shut eyes and a dopey smile. With your swollen, sensitive clit now included he felt the suction again, your hips moving of their accord as you mixed in pleasure with the almost pain, your need taking over the distraction of how deep he was. No one, nothing had been this deep inside you before. “Sat down in my lap like a good girl.” his face was mischievous, looking up at you as you finally rest your ass against him.

“Something about you makes me wanna be a good girl.” you whisper sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing you together. With a wiggle of your knees, you adjust your stance and move up and down, the position was new, you’d never had someone sit up and hold you before. His hands roamed your body to map it out, favoring your ass and tits. He sloppily kissed your chest, face buried as you figured out what felt good for you. That also made it a lot different. You would’ve bounced and squeezed around his dick and got him off in a flash normally but you were supposed to focus on yourself. To your surprise, sinking on him and grinding your hips was by far the winner.

“You good baby?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear, seeing your face shift from elated to concentrated.

“Yeah.” your eyes shot open, not realizing you’d been scowling as you focused. “M’figuring this out.” you admitted and looked down, seeing his hands on your hips, helping you rock back and forth. “What feels good for me.”

“Thatta girl.” he nodded and took his hands into yours, you watched your fingers lace into his. Devoid of his usual rings that were in a dish on his dresser. You remember a time when he didn’t have those rings, now they were a trademark. And you got to see the scandalous naked fingers of Eddie now. He kissed your hands and you whined at the soft intimacy of the moment. “Use me for leverage, honey. You're not gonna hurt me.” laying your hands on his shoulders. He grabbed the heft of your ass to help raise you as you gasped out at the angle he hit as he shimmied down, giving you more room to lean over him. You ground against him, rubbing your clit against his body, he met you with a thrust as you found your pace. He listened and learned, and matched your speed even when you paused or faltered.

“Never done it like this before,” you whispered, your head hanging, hands now on the wall behind him, your chest hanging in his face. Before he could ask, you answered. “Slow. Close. Not the..ugh, fuck…the pounding. I don’t have to touch my clit for this to feel good.”

“Take all the time you want gorgeous. No way I’m getting soft looking at you.” you simper, eyes still closed and he melted at the sight. A heavy sigh as you rocked back and forth on him. “You feel amazing by the way.” he gazed up and shook his head, you felt his hair tickle against your arms. “You like dirty talk sweetheart?” as he always had he asked permission before trying something new. You nodded, biting your lip.

“I think I do, yeah. I wanna hear you.” you ask with heavy breaths, taking your time and letting your next orgasm build, floating in the heavy weight of him on your insides, the fullness, the loving nips and sucks he intermittently planted on your tits.

“Your pussy is so wet you’re not gonna know what’s your cum and what’s mine when I’m through with you. Such a sweet little thing aren’t you? Rubbing that pretty pink pussy against me and making yourself feel good. Just like I told you. Cause you’re my good girl aren’t you?” you couldn’t have hidden how his words turned you into a needy, pathetic puddle even if you’d tried. Your hips sped up, your voice higher pitched, softer than the first time he made you cum. He couldn’t help but be selfish and play in the fantasy of you belonging to each other. Like he’d thought it might’ve been all those years ago.

“I”m your good girl, Eddie.” you nodded, leaning back and moaning deep when he sat fully inside you, your hands to your chest, playing with yourself, moving halfway between a bounce and a grind. “Wanna..” you whimpered, letting the feeling build. “Wanna be good.” you nodded helplessly, lost in the feeling of pleasure and praise, the thought of belonging to someone who cared for you made your chest flutter.

“C’mere baby.” he pulled you forward, latching onto a nipple as he helped you move with his hands that encased so much of your body. “You are good. So good.” he muttered into the soft of you. He hoped you could feel how much he meant the words in a non-sexual way. Your body shook at the jolt that shot to your clit from his gifted mouth. You needed him closer, impossibly closer as you wrapped your arms around his head and pressed your face into the fluff of his hair. You breathed him in, he felt your lips to his forehead, kissing intermittently, nails to his scalp as your grip tightened the closer you got. He was encased in you, you smelled sweeter when your perfume mixed with your sweat. He’d smelled you pass him in the hallways for years but nothing compared to tasting the sweat on your skin, his senses full of you. You clung to him like he was important to you, like you needed him and he was foolish enough for you to let himself believe you did. The small kisses, and the whispers of his name as he hit the learned spots that made you beg filled his stomach and chest with a mix of arousal and emotion.

He’d thought maybe he would get emotional if you slept together. There was too much history there to be detached. Too many could have been’s to not fantasize about it working out. The way you moved in sync, breaths, and moans in steady intervals, the tones mixing as you draw yourself closer, using his body. The silence around you only made the noise seem that much more important, bubbled between you in the encroaching darkness of a familiar and safe space. Your brow was creased hard, concentrated, and hidden as you took in the lingering smell of his shampoo. You were startled when you felt his arms wrap around your middle tightly. You pulled back to look down at him. “Hold on for me. I wanna see your face.” you nod without question as he slid farther down the bed, pillows still behind him but more horizontal than you were before. Your hands splayed on his chest, waiting for instruction. Your eyes bat, a whimper escaping from the cool air now able to move between your bodies. ���Sorry baby, couldn’t handle not getting to see that pretty face.” His voice was soft and gritty, a hand finding your cheek to focus you as you felt him thrust with force, pushing a yelp out of you. He got to witness the glory of your eyes lolling back, swollen lips parted and trembling at what he was making you feel.

“You wanna watch me?” you offer, instinctive in your picking up on what he could be asking with hints. You arch your back, prepared to bounce and ride, something you knew you were good at. But he shook his head, dark hair a halo against pale sheets and a paler face. “No. I want to see you.” he corrects, hand gently suggesting you move your face with it as he brought your lips back together. “Couldn’t stand not kissing you.” he muttered between kisses, your bodies lazily grinding, him now able to easily pump his length in and out of you. You met with small moans, a huff of hair escaping like little bellows as he filled you up, your clit throbbing and aching as it drug against his dark hair and lean middle. He let his hands wander ever so delicately to your back. He wanted to squeeze you against him but didn’t want to hurt you. You’d never felt hands so cautious on you before. He touched you like you were delicate. He fucked you like you might break. His unfairly beautiful eyes looked at you like you were something to cherish and protect and a whimper easily misunderstood to be pure pleasure slid out of your mouth and into his. That feeling in your chest grew again, not the same as the orgasm tumbling about in your belly. This was different, new. His kisses were a delicious distraction your brow knitted as something resembling pain fluttered around in your ribs. Your hand trembled to his chest, feeling his heart thudding against your palm and wondering if he felt it too. One hand kept to your hips, steady, making sure you weren’t getting too tired. The other went from your cheek to take the one shaking on his chest into his own. A choked sob escaped, kissed away as he snaked his arm around your lower back now, still holding your hand. He felt perfect, solid, and smooth as you met in the middle with the slap of skin echoing into the room. But it was almost secondary to the way your eyes locked. You took the hand you’d had supporting you on the bed to take his jaw into your grasp now. He didn’t look surprised, no, he was thankful in an odd way. Relief as you put your forehead to his and called his name in a voice so sweet he would bet no one else had ever heard it before. He wanted to be the only one to draw it from you. Outside a war could’ve raged away, nothing in comparison to the silent conversation between your hearts as only a little bone and flesh separated them. You cried out, him steadfast and shushing, a pliant kiss for every whimper.

“Eddie.” you nuzzled your nose to his, something you’d never done to another person. He made you want to be so soft.

“You close? You’re getting tight on me. It feel good? Am I making you feel good?” he asked desperately seeking your approval.

“So good. Too good.” you whispered and kissed him again. “No one else could do this, Eddie.” you confessed, your eyes so docile as they shined with tears he had to assume were good as you weren’t voicing any other opinion. “No one could make me feel this way. Just you.” you pouted, mouth open against his as you started to fade, the sinfully good feeling growing and working its way up your spine into your brain to make way for your heart to speak as it turned off your filter. Your hand wasn’t light on his jaw, you squeezed his hand in yours on his chest. “I missed you.” you felt the sting of tears, of sweet emotional release in your eyes. He felt your lip tremble against him before falling open and moaning, spine shifting as your body revved up. “I missed you so much.” a tear fell as he latched his hands to your cheeks to steady you, picking up his pace and watching the intoxicating mix of ecstasy and remorse as you spoke without worry.

“Fuck I missed you too. You have no idea, sweetheart. I missed you so goddamn much.” he crashed his mouth to yours, he couldn’t do anything else in that moment.

“You feel so good. You’re so good to me, baby.” you cry out to him, messy and pitiful as you slide against him, letting his hips put in the work as you present yourself to him. He joyously accepts. “I should’ve never left you.” you confess, shaking your head as he kept your cheeks firm, feeling tears tracing the lines of his hands.

“Shh, baby look at me. Focus on me. You’re fine. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” he swore, kissing the bulb of your nose.

“Yeah?” you choked out, hope in your watery eyes again.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Focus on me baby, focus on that perfect pussy, let me make you feel good. Please. That’s all I wanna do. I wanna make you cum so bad it hurts. It aches baby. Cum for me? Yeah? Please?” a man had never begged in such a way. In a raw, vulnerable way that made you want to give him anything he wanted. You wanted to give him everything to make up for the things you’d done.

“Anything, Eddie.” you promised, letting your eyes close to focus. Your breath was light as you exhaled over his face to concentrate. “Anything you want.” you swore to him, caught in the riptide of emotion you were warned about. You didn’t know sex could do this. That intimacy and connection could wrench hidden feelings to the surface. That safety and trust would make you want to need another person. As the tension built, bringing you to the peak you realized your independence wasn’t something to be so proud of. That needing someone. That was what made life worth living.

There were no words shared for a long while after that. You came with a scream, years of pent-up emotion escaping through cries to Eddie’s chest as your body bowed against his. Your body perfect against his made it easy for him to let go as he pounded into you relentlessly as you came. You tremored in his arms, pushing your hair back and kissing your sweaty forehead as you both gasped to catch your breath. You shook and grumbled into his chest, body on fire with pleasure and your mind heavy with regret. You lay on him for who knows how long. He grabbed the covers to throw over you both, rough fingertips but delicate touch up and down the unmarked parts of your back. It soothed you like a baby. You were almost ashamed at how content you felt. But nothing about this felt wrong. It felt so impossibly right. He eventually broke the silence, by of course checking in on you.

“How are you feeling?” a whisper into your hair as he kissed your head.

“A lot.” for a beat neither knew what to say before you let out a quiet laugh. “I’m okay.” you nodded and snuggled into his chest.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” his voice cracked and it made you smile to know he was also as unsure as you were about how to move forward.

“We should.” you grunt and move to roll next to him. Your body for the first time all week was lax and comfortable. “Can I?” you nod your head to suggest you cuddle up next to him.

“Please.” he insisted, holding up his arm as you slid beneath it. Your hand rested on his chest, his fingers in your hair as you sat in the aftermath.

“I uh-” a nervous huff tickled across his skin. “Fuck it.” you sighed. “I meant it. All of it. I’m sorry for what I did to us. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So many times I almost told you you were right and I didn’t want to do it anymore. But I was too stubborn. Too proud. In too deep.” your head nuzzled into his pec. “You feel like coming home. This feels like I’ve been traveling for years and I’m finally back in my own bed where I belong.” you were unknowingly making his eyes water now.

“Because this is where you belong.” he met you with the same sentiment. You craned your neck to look at his face. “Everything I did against you was because I was hurt. I didn’t mean any of it. Not really.” he looked away and chewed his lip. “I kept hoping you would come back, you know? I knew you weren’t happy. But I couldn’t tell you that and risk you pushing even farther away.”

“You’re right. As always.” you reassured him.

“I’m not happy about how it happened. But I’m happy something happened to break you out. It wasn’t gonna be pretty no matter what it was.”

“True. I’m glad it happened too. I was so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he stretched to kiss you. “How about you rest now, huh?”

“You have any plans this weekend?”

“Spending it with you I hope.” he felt you smile, resting your chin on his chest.

“Lots of naps. Lots of… stories and sharing and apologizing.”

“Lots of catching up to do.” he nodded. You leaned up to kiss him again with more intent.

“Thank you.” you whispered against his lips. “For everything.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world to talk about it, sweetheart.” he wrapped his arms around you, turning toward you and pulling you to his chest. “Thank me by going to sleep with me.” he smooched your cheek playfully, noisily. You didn’t say another word. You simply did as he asked. He had a track record of always being right after all.

In the morning, or afternoon really by the time you awoke and giggled and kissed your way out of bed. You put on the same clothes as the day before, looking fairly normal and not your usual walk of shame aesthetic. It was nice to be comfortable for once. Eddie opened the door in a flannel with clashing print pajama pants. When you looked out into the living room you met the eyes of Wayne. You’d spoken more with him than Eddie in the last few years. That wasn’t saying much. He glanced between you and Eddie with clear confusion. You would’ve been confused too.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asked, not knowing how to breach the subject of you having slept over. He didn’t know if it was platonic like it had been for years before or if was less than innocent. He only knew you hadn’t talked to his boy in years and now you were sleeping over again.

“She had a week from hell.” Eddie explained as you sheepishly nodded and gave him an apologetic smile.

“I didn’t wanna be alone last night.” you admitted as Edie’s head twist your way, the softest smile on his face for you openness. “I was really upset.” you toed the linoleum floor. “Eddie offered to let me stay. Hope that’s okay.”

“You’re always welcome here, darlin’. Nothing’s changed as far as I’m concerned.” he nodded with a warm smile.

“I think I’ll be around a lot more now.” you nodded still looking a bit sad, dark circles under your eyes.

“Everything okay?” he took it as you trying to say you’d need more support, that things were bad.

“Not right now, no.” you wrinkle your nose and shove your hands in your hoodie pockets. “But I think… for the first time in a long time...” you smile and watch Eddie making you both bowls of cereal, focused on his task. “They will be.”

ngl, I live for validation, feedback, and interaction. Comments and reblogs make my day. <3 Feel free to send asks or requests. I'm just a silly little animal with a hyper fixation!

My Eddie Munson Masterlist!

I tagged people who were on my former fic Seeing Stars and people who showed interest in this work through likes/comments. If you don't want to be tagged in future Eddie works, just let me know!

@kik51199 @banannie255 @paracetamollvrr @honeyshifts @simonsblueee @suspirian @likeficsinthewnd @hollyismentallyillhelpp @ouuwitchywoman @michaelfuckinglangdon  @hannahdinse8 @thikkiesixx @lonesome-dovee @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @eriseffigyy @kriffingstars  @laurathefahrradsatteltel @munsinss @secularlunarsorceressss @angelofthorrr @eddiemunsonsbedroom @justiceiswater @divadinag @boomhauer @br0ck-eddiee  @fridamosss @nitafromtheshadowss @sammararaven  @bambipowerblueadditionueaddtion @trixyvixx @bimbobaggins69 @sillypurplemurplee @sunnyhoney420 @sugar-bears-smile @hellfires-harlot @eddiemunson95 @atatiannah444 @big-ope-vibes @irrelevantwriter @angelbabytouch-blog @

[galwithalibrarycard]

Do you like horror as a genere? If you do what's your favorite movies/things to see?

If not why?

Im not into horror as a genre but I like some things if not all things

I do like horror! It surprises even me that I like horror, because I’m a very anxious person, but I think I like the safety of being scared by something you know isn’t real and can’t hurt you. Sometimes it’s nice to be scared of fictional villains rather than real ones for a while. I’ve been reading ghost stories and loving Halloween since I was a kid, and horror is kind of the adult version of that, I guess, so I naturally if slowly became a horror fan as I grew up. I do have to be careful not to watch too much dark stuff at once and end up in an anxious funk, and I don’t like a lot of gore or prolonged suffering onscreen. (That’s why Bones is my favorite crime procedural, you almost never see any living victim suffering onscreen, but instead they get dignity in death. And we get more focus on our crime-solvers and their lives.)

My favorite horror movies kind of tend to fall in the “hell is a teenage girl” genre- Jennifer’s Body, Ginger Snaps. It’s a real way into my gender feelings, which are basically that I loved being a little girl but puberty felt like a violence in that I would suddenly both be sexualized against my will and considered not feminine or hot enough to be the “right” kind of woman per cishet society. I’m finally comfortable in my body as an adult, but I still feel like I fluctuate between feeling like a woman and a genderless blob, and I think I experience “woman” as a gender in a distinctly queer way. So monster women are deeply delightful to me.

My first ever horror movie was either The Skeleton Key or The Ring, both of which my little sister made me watch with her, and we also memorably watched Rosemary’s Baby one summer as preteens.

I also like a good horror novel, but it’s hard to give recommendations because most of the ones I’ve read, I’ve only read once, and forgotten a lot about. I know I really liked Carrie by Stephen King (another hell is a teenage girl story), and I’ve read and would love to read more from authors like Stephen Graham Jones, Grady Hendrix, T Kingfisher… Really though, I’ve never loved any adult horror book the way I loved Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and the ghostly children’s novels of Mary Downing Hahn as a kid. I don’t think anything in fiction is ever gonna be as scary to me again as the things that were scary back when I still believed in ghosts and monsters.

I like how horror can be a vehicle for social commentary and can be a home for the Other, the people society conditions to find themselves monstrous. I just finished an excellent book called It Came From the Closet, a collection of essays by LGBTQ+ writers talking about the horror movies that made the greatest impressions on them. (There were some excellent essays on bisexuality, and one about a queer reading of Jaws. I love Jaws and I was SO happy someone else agreed with me about the homoeroticism just under the surface on that boat! Also so many trans contributors, and those voices are vital right now.)

And of course there’s nothing like watching and making fun of a bad horror movie with a good friend. What Halloween season is for!

[8blogsthena]

{Revamped Introduction Post}

8. About me + Introduction

{P.S I genuinely hate introduction posts cause I never know how to structure it. Kill me.}

Hello, I'm Thena! I'm a soulless teenage girl who lurks & feeds off other people's personalities, looks & interests! I go by She/Her, my sexuality is straight I think & I'm currently in a healthy, supportive relationship.

I'm a very multi-community/subculture gal when it comes to fashion/lifestyles/music, I have a hard time staying in a single "genre" per say? Some communities/subcultures involve: Gothic, Jirai Kei, Bohemian, Folklore, etc.

I plan on sharing my struggles, experiences, opinions, issues & random thoughts on this blog, so it'll be a "personal blog", since I've been recently introduced to the Jirai Kei community by a close friend, alot of my content will be directed to that community. I struggle with undiagnosed mental issues, I am still unsure exactly which mental disorders/illnesses so I will not be naming anything since it's inappropriate & disrespectful to. I also struggle with heavy obsessions, heavy social anxiety, asthma, body dysmorphia, etc.

{Extras below!}

———————————♡☆———————————

8. Likes

Schedules

Urban Exploring/Explores

Abandoned historic buildings history

Hoarding

Myths

Interior/Exterior designing { Mainly Victorian & Gothic }

Architecture designing { Mainly Victorian & Gothic }

No story cartoons/animated series's { Example: South Park }

Horror/Mystery Games or Films

Fugglers

Maximalist Outfits or Room/Home decor

Honest people

Femininity

Roblox

Unsolved Mystery / True Crime

Noodles & Seaweed { Comfort Foods }

Sonic games { Tails is my favorite, he's so cute }

8. Dislikes

Pedophiles

Clusters of holes { Trypophobia - Especially on food }

SA { Agraphobia }

Disorganized plans

Interrupted schedule

Dishonest people

Fake people

Catfishers

Summer

Socializing or being in public

People who assume your situation based on your appearance/personality

Tight shirts

Arm workouts

Homophobes/Transphobes { I don't care if you are, just keep it to yourself, it's not like they shove it down your throat. }

Eshays

People who think fighting or yelling disgusting curse words is cool, funny or amusing

People who fake disorders/mental illnesses for attention

OP Sexuallizers, gross

8. Interact if...

Around my age { 14 - 24 is preferred }

Struggle with obsessive thoughts

Struggle with overwhelming phobias

Fashion lover

Spiritual

Honesty is key

Self involved/obsessed

Jirai Kei

Love weird/silly updates or posts

Silly weirdo that can't contain the silliness

8. DNI if...

Pedophile

Faker

Rude/Mean

Don't understand my posts

Body shamer

Pick me

Dislike my interests

Hater

Thank you very much for reading! ♡ (๑>◡<๑)

{ Kaomoji Link }

[josiebelladonna]

trying this yet again because i’m tired. 18+ please.

Would you say that you have or have not had a strong sexual drive in your life? How does and did this level of sexual drive affect your intimate relationships?

I’m going to try really hard and not be negative with these, because I’m exhausted. Insecurity and no confidence are no joke and not something easily fixed by telling me I need to exude confidence or to “just be myself” because those pieces of advice are anything but helpful. And we wonder why I get so angry about it. These are meant to help me and meant to let me audit this part of me, this part of me that I have never loved or felt proud of before.

Looking over the last thirty years and I guess I let my own insecurities get the best of me—this shit always happens to me, too. Despite wavering and ebbing and flowing like the tides, I actually have had a very strong sex drive in my life: I just think about how boy crazy I am, how my eyes wander onto girls, and how I always have been nuts about it since I hit puberty. It’s only gotten bigger as I’ve gotten bigger, too. 

Thing is I never know what to do with it. I could never picture anyone liking what they saw with me, so I always keep it to myself. I was so disinterested in the people, boys and girls, at my school that I never could do anything: being treated like dirt by your own peers since you were ten years old, yeah, expect to check out all together. There have actually been a few times I thought I was lesbian because I am really intrigued by the female form and to be honest, there are times I’m actually drawn to it more than I am men’s bodies and I wonder what lesbian sex would feel like. I never could experiment because of my environment: being openly lgbtq+ where I grew up was like suicide, yes, even in California. 

There were no resources and I was too ashamed to talk about it anyway. I just told people I was straight because I didn’t want them to know this part of me. But… I do love men, though. I really love men, actually. I think men are absolutely gorgeous. I fantasize about men all the time. Hell, I have a crush on a man right now. So, I thought I was bi for a while and then I started seeing nonbinary people with really beautiful bodies. Ran around in circles and I eventually landed on pansexual. It’s good to know that there’s a name for it, but I still hold back. I can’t picture myself with someone, no matter what gender they are, who knows how to put a handle on this… this… thing that is my libido.

What struggles have you had with your sexuality?

Way too many to list. Way too many. I guess the big one is just being comfortable with it, to the point of genuinely angering me. I reject my desires, like I don’t find them normal or pleasurable. I don’t find myself as all that attractive, either. When I was a teenager, no one ever made a pass on me. Girls didn’t like me, boys were either taken or they didn’t give a shit. I didn’t actually start getting looks until fairly recently, like two years ago.

I have this very distinct memory from high school—I don’t remember the context, may have been for spirit week, I have no clue—there was a day where we all had to dress up in either red, yellow, or green, like the stoplights: red for “taken”, green for single, and yellow for “talking”. I remember I used to have green pants and I wore those plus my Green Day shirt. I got to school… and I’m not exaggerating. I was the only person wearing green. I was just in a sea of red with a few yellow spots here and there. I remember people staring at me, too, like judging me, like, how fucking dare I walk around out here advertising my singleness. If I recall correctly, it wasn’t just students, either, I had a couple of teachers look at me funny, too.

In what ways do you nurture your personal sense of sexuality, and/or sexual relationships?

I draw. I write. …I live on a mountain top, 20 minutes away from a trump bastion. it’s not like I have a ton of options.

I like to wear jewel tones and low-slung jeans: I do not like high-waisted jeans or shorts because they cut me in half and bunch up around my crotch and my butt (every. single. time); I really just… don’t get the appeal and why everyone clutches at themselves at the mere mention of anything low-rise. I like camisoles. I like pajamas. I like underwear: as much as I cringe at the thought of wearing lingerie, I do like just wearing a bra, and I do have a teddy in my closet, too. I like to wear jeans: I have never felt good in a dress before. I dunno, it’s a bitch to walk around in and sit in, and I hate how the skirt always wants to blow up (I’ve lived in windy areas my whole life). After a shower, I let my hair hang down for a few hours before I brush it: if I haven’t showered in a few days, I comb my bangs up into this pompadour upon my head so I have this Elvis/Dennis Miller thing going until I feel like climbing in. I like tops that are low-cut and are a bit snug: I really don’t mind if they ride up my body a bit. Only makeup I have is chapstick and nail polish: when I was little, I’d put on lipstick and eyeshadow and mascara but I never could get into it, though. I always look over made. “You’d be so much prettier, though!” Heh, nope. Even just a little bit makes me look like I just walked out of the circus.

Write about your first sexual experiences. Interpret sexual experience any way like, even it’s about you first kiss.

(Resisting the urge to be angry, even though I kind of am annoyed just reading this)

I guess there was the first time I touched myself. I was in front of a mirror and I opened my legs and looked at myself there. I touched my clit the first time and I remember it really tickled me. I felt my labia and even stuck a finger or two in.

And then naturally, I got caught.

Write about your last sexual experience. How was it different from your first sexual experience?

I guess this could be the last time I touched myself: I was standing up and had my underwear on that time (just to play around a bit). Did very little but then I moved to my nipples and I was starting to go nuts a bit. I also tried between the legs again naked, with a shower head, and that really did something. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve gotten a lot more sensitive as I’ve gotten older.

What were you taught about sex as you grew up? What did you not know that you needed to know?

Sex ed from middle school onwards, plus I was told that guys just want to get in my pants by my drug addict father. I was never told about pleasure or anything good or that kinks are good or the range of sexual orientations or anything genuinely useful. Just your standard “insert penis into vagina” and that was it. I was also bombarded by these messages of “don’t be promiscuous or a slut, don’t get a reputation” and it was always in junction with being ladylike.

How has your views of sex changed over time?

Gone from free to repressed to “I don’t want this, ever” back to free back to repressed to disgusted, really just all over the damn place.

Describe a sexual fantasy you have.

Let’s see: Love is Not Enough, Blood & Chocolate, Pitch Black, Like Blood From a Stone, the one shots in eclipse, black moon, eerie inhabitants/my vampire fics, Chave do Mar, last day in paradise, the one shots in paraselenae, The Apple Shed, and As the Seasons Grey, are all self-indulgent fantasy. Hell, now that I remember it, there were some chapters in fever that felt like fantasy, namely the chapter where Sam and Alex are at the Bristlecone Pine Forest and also the final chapter when the fever finally erupts into flame. I remember there were some chapters of now it’s dark that were fantasy, namely whenever Joey was in Black Orchid.

Turn a sexual experience into a piece of short fiction. Describe the setting. Use dialogue. Write erotic description.

Judge me forever.

Write about the best sex partner you have ever been with. Describe a special time together.

So… I’m a virgin.

What changes if any would you like to make about your sexual self?

I really want more confidence and freedom, and I’m wary of saying that, too, because I know what the answer is going to be. It’s going to be this bullshit, hackneyed, so-called “advice” that’s only going to piss me off. But, aside from the changes in career, I have had my boundaries disrespected by family, friends, peers, classmates, everyone. Everyone apparently thinks it’s okay to invalidate my feelings and my choices, and that it’s okay to make fun of me when I change my mind and think it over again. 

Take the whole thing with makeup: girls often asked me why I don’t wear it. “I just don’t,” and also “I don’t like the way it feels on my skin”. Cue the “there’s natural makeup” and the “you’d look so much prettier with it”. I GAVE YOU AN ANSWER.

Write a sexual confession to your partner or someone you admire. Be straight forward or as kinky as you would like.

So, this took me about an hour to write up because I initially came up dry and then I found myself in a very vulnerable position when I started thinking about what I… really wish I could tell you everything I feel about you. I have so much fear around how I feel about you, and I really, really don’t know how you’ll react to this should you ever see it. I’m not confident in my words. I could lose you. I could push you away. I think my desires are terrifying and gross, and I just don’t know what to say to you most of the time: really, I feel like I’m bullshitting with you all of the time because you’re so intelligent and cool and content and seem to have everything together… and I’m not. I feel like I’m just not worth your time most days: there are far more women out there who are far more interesting than me, women who are better than me, like they have degrees and they’re accomplished. What have I done?

I look into your eyes, those deep blue eyes, as blue and deep as the Pacific Ocean. I look at your handsome face, how it gets more handsome when you’re smiling. I look at your beautiful hair, at how it’s two-toned and soft-looking: I look at your hair from when you were younger and I want to play with it. Don’t cut your hair short again: it was cute, but you look so gorgeous and more “yourself” with long hair (it suits your face better, too). No, you don’t need to lose weight: you look so healthily plump with a little tummy. 

I think of kissing you there, touching you and holding you around your full waist, especially after you’ve eaten.

I think of cuddling with you—I love to cuddle and be warm and safe.

I think of touching you below the belt, of feeling and fondling you there: I have often considered that tummy rubs lead to handjobs, and tummy kisses lead to blowjobs. I think of you doing the same to me: that velvet tongue on the insides of my thighs; those long spindly fingers on my clit or around the rim of my belly button or around my nipples, those soft cherry lips on my skin…

I think of making out with you, just really slow, soft, sensual love-making where we’re close and feeling each other.

I think about some of the erotic fics I’ve penned about you, especially the really kinky ones, and I can’t help but want a few of them to come to life (like voice kink: I meant it when I said I love your voice).

I think of role playing with you: you’re the hot professor or scientist, especially now that you have glasses. Or we’re vampires or merfolk.

I also just think of kissing you, giving you a little peck on the cheek or the neck for being such a sweetie. You’re kind of everything that I’ve dreamed of, everything I love in another person, and if I’m being honest, you don’t even seem real sometimes because you really are that perfect to me.

What would you like to learn about your sexual self?

Why do I never attract the types that I like—I’ll admit it, too, I have a type (boys with long hair, artistic types who are liberal but have an open mind, smart ones, sweet ones, kind of round ones, curvy women, slender women, women with dyed hair, women with something unusual about them like bright eyes with dark skin). My facebook is littered with people I have no connection with, like there’s only a few that I really do consider friends.

What part of your sexuality seems the most mysterious to you?

Those lesbian thoughts I keep having. Even with as much as I love men, I can’t help but feel aroused by women as well.

And also why I keep coming back to this. Why did I keep my incredibly high sex drive under wraps when sexual energy is incredibly powerful.

When you hesitate to write something, what reminder can you give yourself to be as completely honest as you can, both factually and emotionally?

“I have nothing to compare myself to”.

What, if anything, about sex distresses you?

I worry about getting pregnant, and I’ve always known that this is why I’m so bored with regular old penetrative sex, and why I feel genuinely repulsed by the affluence of it in fanfic: it’s the weirdest thing to me, it’s like everyone has baby fever, whereas I don’t want children. Plus, I’m just genuinely grossed out by the thought of being filled with cum.

My poor stomach has been through a lot, too: I worry about having to run to the bathroom because my own erotic tendencies are sending my digestive system into overdrive.

What change would you like to make in your sexual behavior?

Confidence—I don’t think for one second that I add anything to someone’s life.

What change would you like to make in your sexual attitudes or thoughts?

I wish I could be more open with them and not feel like they’re weird or gross.

What change would you like to make in your sexual emotions or feelings?

Same story there. Plus, I don’t want to be invalidated. 

What memories came to mind from the previous questions?

Let’s see… my crying to my dad about feeling lost after I moved back to California and him being incredibly insensitive and telling me to “exude confidence” and accusing me of being an alcoholic (when I can easily tell you that I’m not) rather than be a shoulder to cry on, listen to me and give me space and tell me I’m not wrong for feeling this way. You know. Be a man and comfort the most important woman in your life.

All the times I was asked “why do you do this?” and I’d give a legit answer and then they would respond with unsolicited advice or opinions.

This isn’t sexual, but one time, I cried in front of my paternal grandmother and she rolled her eyes at me. That side of the family just never cared about me.

All the times I showed any emotion and no one knew how to react… or worse, they wouldn’t leave me alone to the point of harassing me.

Nothing good or happy. I was never allowed to be myself.

What do you like most about your current partner? Least?

I’m a virgin.

Make three (or more) sexual wishes. Don't hold back!

I wish I could talk about this freely. I wish I was hot. I wish I was accepted. I wish I belonged. I wish I didn’t have to worry. I wish I couldn’t feel hysterical laughter whenever I say I’m a virgin.

Make a list of your sexual partners and write a few phrases to describe the relationship. What patterns do you see?

I’m a fucking virgin.

If you have a sexual partner now, write about this relationship. What works for you in this sexual relationship? What would you like to change?

Starting to sound like a broken record, I AM A VIRGIN!

Describe what your ideal sexual relationship would look like today.

You know, I’ve thought about this over and over again, and I still can’t picture this. It’s beyond my reach and my own realm to even imagine a regular old romance. But a sexual relationship? No. I can’t picture this.

I’d say maybe something with polyamory given I’m polyamorous, but that’s about where it starts and ends, though.

If you have been sexually dissatisfied, what has kept you in the relationship?

Doesn’t apply.

Are you able to ask your partner for what you want sexually? How do you do that?

The two times I have ever been out on a date, plus the time I cybered, I had the absolute worst time telling them about what I wanted. Well, for starters, the dates were first dates: even I can tell you that you don’t reveal too much too soon because that can push them away. It wasn’t like I could tell them anyway. But the second date, i.e., the time I was fixed up, I could feel that pressure, like… if this went past the first day, I would have to tell him. And I had no connection with him. I was bored sitting there next to him.

As for the time I cybered… I’m just going to assume that the first time is always awkward.

If you have difficulty asking for what you want, what are you telling yourself that makes asking difficult?

“Will they really know what I’m talking about?”

What are your sexual limits with your partner?

I don’t want to be filled with cream. No, I’m completely turned off at the thought of being pregnant. I’m almost mortified by it, actually: use a condom or pull out, or let’s use our hands or mouths.

I like a little pain… not too much, though. I like little nibbles or scratches down the back, or spanking.

No piss or shit, and none of that “daddy” nonsense, either.

What sexual behavior won't you do or would do only under certain conditions? Write about those to clarify your boundaries.

(see the tidbit with pain) Please don’t overdo it. My body is actually very sensitive and too much pain is too much.

As repulsed as I am by the idea of having penetrative sex, if there’s protection involved, I actually might reconsider.

I don’t like it too rough: I’m slow and sensual for the most part, but a little quickness goes a long way if I think about it.

In what way might your relationship with your partner deepen or improve by talking openly about sex?

Hang-ups about… noonewantingtobeinarelationshipwithme aside, I really feel like an open conversation could help a relationship. For me, it’s a “make or break” type thing: if they aren’t comfortable with it, they probably aren’t for you. If they’re curious, but they’re like me and they aren’t comfortable or sure in their sexuality, make them feel safe. Put your arm around them and help them because it’s very daunting, especially when you see they’re alone because everyone is either disrespectful and patronizing or “too busy”. Make it make sense for them.

Can you recall your first discovery of sexual fantasy? What was it about?

All I know is I was very young and I didn’t understand what was happening, either.

Write out three of your favorite sexual fantasies. If this is new to you, make one up now.

Here, here, and here. Speaking of which, I gotta update those latter two 😅

How have you used your sexual fantasies up until now?

Nope.

What began as a fantasy that you later took into action?

The time I told Alex I’m in love with his voice. It was way before I wrote voice kink one shot in eclipse, too. That one in particular was so much fun to write—kind of tricky, but fun, though.

What sexual fantasies work the best to arouse you?

I was pretty aroused writing Chave do Mar: Alex as a merman with a long shark tail, smooth milky skin, and black curls tousled over his shoulder. Same with Blood & Chocolate, too: Alex being over fed and it shows up on his body. The Black Orchid scenes from now it’s dark were pretty hot, too, when I think back to writing them: Joey surrounded by burlesque strippers.

Have you shared your sexual fantasies with a friend? What was the reaction?

…it’s pretty across the board.

Have you shared your sexual fantasies with a lover? What was the reaction?

I don’t know if I could be courageous enough to do that.

How important is it for you to share your sexual fantasies? What are your reasons for sharing or not? Does sharing fantasies break their "spell"?

You know that fanfic meme that talks about writing your dream fanfic filled with all your fantasies and dreams but choosing not to and keeping it locked away in your mind because you want it to yourself? Yeah, I don’t relate to that at all. I write them out because I want to make sense of them for the most part. I honestly don’t care if no one sees them, either, because I’ve never really seen my fantasies as all that mystifying: just these weird little scenes that roll around inside me and whether they face the light of day is up to me.

What, if anything, do you find distressing about your sexual thoughts or fantasies? Write about that to clarify it for yourself.

I don’t think they’re all that special or gossip-worthy or revolutionary or life-changing. They just… are what they are.

I think the one thing that’s distressing about them is how they almost always have an element of science fiction to them: I live in an imaginary world and to bring these out would defy the laws of science. They’re just not physically possible.

If you could say three things to the world about the nature of your personal sexuality and really be heard, understood, and accepted, what would you say?

I look and identify as female but I’m queer, plus I’m pansexual and polyamorous. Get used to it.

Please respect my boundaries and my choices. I don’t wear makeup because I just don’t want to, I didn’t ask for you to goad me into it because you think I’ll look prettier. I don’t wear dresses because I just don’t want to, I didn’t ask for you to tell me I look prettier when I wear one.

Make me feel safe and comfortable because… I never have felt safe to express this part of me. I have always felt judged, looked down upon, and made to feel small. We’re supposedly all about supporting women and their agency, demands, desires, et cetera… stop picking and choosing. What turns me on and what I find sexy is going to be radically different to what you find sexy and this does not give you the right to laugh at me or call it “cute” when I don’t intend it to be.

When was the first time you experienced feelings of arousal and what triggered those feelings? What did you think of it at the time? What was your emotional response to those feelings?

Like I said, I was very small. May have been from me sitting in front of the mirror and touching myself, I have no clue. I didn’t understand what was happening, either, or why the adults in the room freaked the fuck out over it, either.

The first time I wore a shirt that showed off my belly is another one: I was like four or five, and it felt right to me. Naturally, I was told that this is not okay.

Describe your first sexual encounter. How old were you? Was it consensual? If not, what resources have you used to help heal from that encounter? If it was consensual, what did that experience mean to you at the time?

So, I’ve talked about this, how it was cybersex that started life as a tangent during a serious conversation in the wake of tragedy, and—it almost didn’t mean anything to me at the time, especially since it started as a joke to lighten the mood a bit. Almost, anyway: I didn’t see it as this huge deal like, “oh my gorsh, I just had cybersex!!” But at the same time, I’m always hesitant to talk about it because it hinges on something bad happening (Dan Wheldon was killed and the boy I talked to saw him as his hero, and I talked with him for hours, and it went the way it did). This is something that’s showed up in a number of my fanfics, and it has gotten me called disgusting, too.

Who was your first romantic, sexual partner? What about him or her appealed most to you? What did you hope would happen with that relationship?

I wish I could answer this. Aside from the above, I’ve never had a boyfriend. Almost 30 years old and I have never even been kissed. I’ll admit it, it’s pathetic. I got sick and tired of hearing “oh, you’ll find love some day” when I was 17, and now I know in my heart it won’t ever happen. Really, I could have confidence through the fucking roof and no one will want any of this. Whoever said “everyone has sex” has obviously never met me. It’s so exploitative, too: this unfair assumption that way too many people have had about me and it only makes me hate myself.

Do you believe that sex and emotional intimacy are linked, or is it possible to have a sexual relationship without emotional attachment? What experiences influence your answer?

Linked but not exclusive, though. Casual sex is a thing, plus you can be emotionally attached but not want it; please don’t believe everything you see on Twitter (especially now).

If you could have the perfect sex life right now, what would that look like?

Something that lets me go about with my polyamory, I guess? I’m able to be with a man and a woman, or two men and a woman. (I’m just pulling stuff out of my ass here, tbh).

How do you define “awesome” sex (i.e. what makes sex better than good)?

Give me everything I want and maybe something the other person likes, like we’re all pleased—notice I said “all” and not just “both”.

How do you feel about PDA? (You can take this as far as “kinks in public,” too.)

Can’t stand it. Can’t stand seeing it, can’t stand the thought of it happening to me (insecurity and hang-ups might have something to do with that when I think about it), some things are just better left in private. As for kinks in public, though? I don’t know, that seems a bit much.

What do you think about when you masturbate?

Last time I did, I didn’t think about anything other than how funny my lips look.

What are your sure-fire turn-ons (and/or turn-offs)?

Turn-ons: touches on my head (you know when you get a haircut and they wash your hair really well beforehand? No joke, that genuinely arouses me). Touches on my breasts, especially my dark-ass nipples. Touches on my belly, especially around my belly button because it’s technically scar tissue. Fingers on my lips—not sure about tongues, though. Touches on my thighs and my knees (yes). Touches on my ankles. I like soft touch. I like being held. I like fantasy. I like intelligence. I like sweetness. I’m all about feeling and being close.

What are your thoughts about porn?

I still don’t see it as exploitative. One complaint I do have with it is unrealistic expectations. No guy is like that. No girl is like that.

What are your thoughts on foreplay? Favorite types? Best experiences? Wishes?

It’s so underrated. A few kisses or hickeys on a sensitive spot like on the neck or the belly, or fingers on the labia and lips on the thighs can take you a long way, and I can say that just from my own writing.

What parts of your lover’s body are you most drawn to? (If you don’t currently have a lover, feel free to consider past or future lovers.)

My eyes have always wandered to the middle of the body, their belly their hips and their thighs. I like it when it’s nice and slender, like I want to put arms around them there and feel them up, and of course, I like it when it’s a little full and round there (like a nice chubby little belly but he’s healthy as a horse). I like a little chub, and I think some people just look a lot better with it: it makes me want to touch and feel, and they look kind of… I want to say “juicy”. Looking nice and tasty—

If you were to “recreate” the early days of your favorite sexy relationship, what would they look like? Would you change anything?

It’s weird to think that I can actually answer this: I don’t think I would change anything. Maybe I could have been a little more upfront with him about how I feel about him earlier on because I just think about that one night in March-ish 2021, but there was a point to that, though. I wanted to ease into it, and there had to be some sort of opportunity to find with him because I see people hitting on him all the time, and I always think I’m being inappropriate with him, oh my god 🫣. 

The beauty of it being online is it’s kind of the whole entire point to it. 

Really, if Alex and I take it offline, we lose the clandestine nature of watching each other on stories or him fanboying over me like he’s a teenage kid again. Although I will say this: if it’s taken offline, given I’m a cuddler and very touchy-feely and sensual… I don’t know about him, but…

What do you want more of in your sex life?

A sex life? I feel like I’m boring and underwhelming, like you would think that someone who identifies as pansexual and polyamorous and has a high sex drive would have at least one conquest but… I’ve just never been respected or built up or even seen. Plus, there’s this whole thing about how women are not supposed to chase, either.

Would you ever visit a sex therapist? What would be the reason and what do you think their advice would be for you?

I’m on the fence. No, because my only real problem is the feeling of safety and wanting to be comfortable. And yes because sometimes a second opinion can help.

Is there anything about sex that embarrasses you, causes shame or fear, or makes you nervous? Or…what’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you during sex?

My fear of pregnancy plus I worry about shitting myself.

That first time you’re naked in front of them strikes me as nerve-racking, too, like that’s the moment of truth right there: when they see you naked the first time.

What do you tend to fantasize or dream about when it comes to sex? What kinds of porn or kink are you drawn to?

My fantasies are very sensual, almost artsy. There’s a lot of emotion involved, too, even if it’s casual, I still imagine so much emotion in there. (When you say, “sexuality isn’t my whole shtick” but you take a closer look and realize that yes, it very much is 😳)

If you were to create a sexy playlist intended for a hot date at home, what would be on it?

When my computer gets fixed, I’ll try this on my Spotify. 

What are your love languages and how do they apply to your sexual needs? What about your lover?

30% physical touch, 27% quality time, 20% words of affirmation, 13% gift giving, 10% acts of service.

I want touch but no one is touching me.

How do you feel about being naked?

No opinion. It just … is what it is. I don’t fixate on flaws (I never could, either, even with my troubled relationship with myself), nor do I see it as a beautiful thing: it just it what it is. I take care of myself but that’s about it. What do you do with it. Why is this controversial. 

Now, when I think about being naked with someone else, that’s where the fear comes in. I don’t think i’m a “prize” at all.

What’s your favorite way to be seduced?

You put your guitar on your lap, you brush your hair really nice, you have this little twinkle in your eye like you’re up to no good or you’re secretly going commando out of camera, you have a glass of wine in hand, and you talk in a very soft, husky voice when I ask you about your underwear.

Do you have any trust issues surrounding sex or your sexual relationship(s)?

A feeling of safety is a running theme here. I want to feel safe and comfortable… and I never have felt safe enough to even so much as look at a guy or a girl.

What do you look like, and sound like, when sex feels good for you?

Whenever I write something erotic, every so often I have to stop myself and close my eyes because I feel things moving. I get really quiet (everyone talks about screaming during sex: I’m the exact opposite, I get really quiet) and my hands start itching for the feeling. I bite my lip a lot, too—sometimes I do that without even thinking, like it just happens. It’s a long slow burn with me.

What is the most sexually daring thing you’ve ever done?

Flirted with Alex on stories. I’ve always sucked at flirting (I once went for five years without flirting with anyone because I suck so hard at it), let alone with a guy like him. 

Any time I post risqué art on instagram because they’re complete pricks with that sort of thing.

When now it’s dark was being written and I posted those ink drawings on instagram (completely oblivious to the fact Joey was watching me).

There was also one time in school one of my friends had his pants hanging down a bit and I tried to pants him and he caught me. I did get to pinch his butt when no one was looking, though.

In your opinion, what does it mean to be good in bed?

When everyone is pleased and had their kinks out in the open. I think.

Have you ever had sex in a public place?

Sarcasm aside, why would I do this?

When and how did you lose your virginity, and how did you feel about it? How do you feel about it now?

Still a virgin here. 

Have you ever had sex with more than one person at a time, watched others have sex, been watched? If not, would you?

I’m polyamorous so I’d definitely try it. As for voyeurism… maybe I’d like to be watched? Don’t know about watching others, though.

How often do you masturbate and what works best for you?

I go for long stretches of time without doing it, because I get bored with it. I’ve done it sitting down, standing up, on my back, stooped over, topless, with my pants on, in the shower, in bed… all with my fingers. Toys are one of my biggest hang ups: I used a vibrator one time and I threw it away immediately because it made me uncomfortable. At least with my fingers, I know where it’s coming from. But toys? I don’t know, I’m not really excited by the thought of sticking a piece of silicone or glass or plastic up my vagina or onto my clit. I’ve thought about it, for sure, because I’ve changed since that first time.

Maybe I’m just not trying enough, but I look at some on lingerie sites like Spencer’s or wherever, and I shake my head in disgust.

“Find one that’s best for you”, they tell me. Yeah, but nothing here is jumping out at me. 

What are you most grateful or thankful for in your sex life?

Can’t say that I’m grateful at all. I’m all about finding joy and pleasure, and I have never found it here. Only pain.

What is your favorite sexual position, and why?

Amazon and doggy style, I guess. Amazon because I’m on top, but it’s also submissive. doggy style is like that, too, but the other way around. 

Have you ever had an “inappropriate” crush? What was it about that person that drew you in, and what made it “not okay”?

All my crushes have been inappropriate lol

They all have been either older, or unavailable in some way like already taken or not interested.

I was never drawn to people at my school, so I looked beyond the borders: older people fit that bill for me.

Have you (or would you) ever tried role play? What roles are you drawn to?

I like fantasy and scifi characters (see my merfolk and vampire kinks; aliens and robots, too), and—you can blame you-know-who for this, too—I like the “sexy nerd” trope, too (the hot librarian or the hot scientist or the hot professor).

Are you more dominant or submissive (or a bit of both)?

I’d say “domme” but I’m definitely both. Yes, even with as much as I hate the female role and find it restrictive, there’s a sub in me.

How do you feel about your own body?

My hair, though very long, down to the halfway point of my thighs, is very thin at the crown of my head. I’m starting to grow out my bangs and I’m starting to get this Jeff Becerra c. Seven Churches look now.

I have a large head. A round face. Sharp eyebrows akin to Madonna or Zendaya’s eyebrows. A small nose. Brown eyes and coarse, wiry dark hair with blonde streaks and a reddish sheen. A thick bull neck and a slight double under my rounded chin. I get this weird growth of hair under my chin—weird because it’s like a Fu Manchu sort of thing in that it grows in two patches. Yeah, under my chin, too, so it gets really itchy and it’s a bitch to pluck.

Broad shoulders with soft collar bones. Lanky arms with slightly warped forearms—first time i gave blood, the nurse had to stick the needle in almost over the joint rather than in the pivot of my elbow; “knock-elbowed” as my mom calls it. Chubby little hands that are almost like paws. Soft skin but I can’t picture anyone wanting to touch it, though.

40ddd chest. A belly covered in stretch marks and was round even when I was thin: it’s even fuller and rounder now. Wide hips and thick thighs—my whole body is thick, though, my measurements are 55-43-57. I gain weight easily, almost way too easily—now you know the source of my anorexia and extreme angst.

My lips are small. And plain. And smooth. They just… are what they are.

I got fat knees. My lower legs are nothing to write home about, neither are my ankles. Slender, bony feet with toes that look like they just came off someone else’s feet.

This body is… I don’t know. Parents call me beautiful but if my piss-poor track record with my peers and crushes and this whole thing here is anything to go by… it should be clear that I have trouble seeing this myself. I only started actually getting hit on very recently, and looking at my appearance when I was a teenager, I did not look good at all. It makes sense that no one ever made a pass on me and I was the only one wearing green.

How sorry do you have to feel for a person having sex with you?

Kind of want to say “not at all” but I’m a virgin so I really have no idea.

Could someone know you sexually, properly know you, and still like you?

If you know me sexually, would you be willing to like me?

[reidsrambles]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

(We just know I had to use GIFs from this scene for this one...)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader // Boyfriend x Girlfriend Description: Your boyfriend might come across as innocent and sweet, but with you, he’s a bit more in charge than people would think. You two have just moved in together. You work from home and love when he arrives home from work. You and Spencer also happen to have some insane sexual chemistry. (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, SoftDom!Spencer with lots of praise, oral sex (female receiving), PIV sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship, reader is a tiny bit of a brat. Names used: Baby, baby girl, good girl, pretty girl, my love Words: 3.5 K

To everyone who knows him, Spencer Reid comes across as a delicate, pure, angelic human being.

“An absolute sweetheart!” “He’s a great kid!” “Smartest guy I know!“

Don’t get me wrong; he definitely is all of those things. But, as his girlfriend, you get to experience the coexisting yet contrasting sides of Dr. Spencer Reid. Who he is in public is quite different from the guy that you get in bed with at night, but you relish in the fact that you get to keep that more hedonistic side of Spencer all to yourself. Both sides make one perfect whole, and you can’t imagine one without the other. He’s kind, loving, and, by all accounts, a hero, but he’s also lustful, passionate, and dominant when he wants to be.

+++

Your boyfriend had barely set foot in the door when you greeted him to inquire about his day. He’s only just hung his coat up and placed his messenger bag on the ground.

“Hey, baby. How was work?”

You and Spencer recently made the (large) jump to move in together. Your place was the larger of the two, and it just made the most sense for him to move into your place.

Exceptional change has always been hard for Spencer. You knew that going from living alone to living with another person, as well as a complete change in his home environment, had the potential to cause a lot of distress for him. You remember how it felt when your parents uprooted your family to move to another state when you were a teenager. You felt disoriented, and your new house didn’t feel like home for a long time.

So far, you’ve loved every bit of living with Spencer, no questions asked, but no matter how much Spencer assures you that he’s completely fine, you’ve found yourself being overly vigilant, just in case he’s suppressing his true feelings.

After slipping his shoes off, he happily reciprocates your usual ‘welcome home’ kiss. Then he softly smiles as he reassures you once again.

“It was good, baby. Everything’s good. This case is going well so far; I live with the love of my life now…,” he trails off. Eyes locked with yours, he brings your hand to his lips and presses a loving kiss to your fingers.

You feel so unworthy of this man so incredibly often. You’ve had your ups and downs and your struggles, and obviously, no relationship is perfect, but over the past few years of dating, you’ve gotten to know each other like the back of your own hands. You’re his, and he’s yours.

Of his own volition, Spencer’s worked a lot on trying to improve his ability to effectively cope with big life changes, and he’s made a lot of progress. In the same way you know that he is doing well and that he doesn’t need your hyper-vigilance with his emotions in this scenario, he knows that you’re overly cautious out of love and out of concern for his feelings. He’d reassure you of something every day for the rest of your lives, though, if it meant you felt more comfortable and secure because of it.

In response to his kissing your hand, you decide to do a mock curtsy, causing him to break out into the cutest giggle you’ve ever heard.

“Why, thank you, my fine prince,” you joke, adding a fake poshness to your voice.

“Well, you are my princess,” he says, leaning back against the front door and gently pulling you into his body for a hug, “and I hope I make you feel like one, because you deserve it.” He kisses your head, and though the conversation and the gestures are innocuous enough, you both can sense the tension building already.

+++

If there’s one thing that you and Spencer definitely have, it’s chemistry. He once confided in you that, before you, he didn’t really believe in the idea of some sort of inherent sexual chemistry between two people. He previously viewed sexual compatibility in an almost formulaic manner: a combination of the compatibility of each party’s sexual preferences and the strength of the relationship.

But, sexually, things with you two were magic from the very beginning. Even now, all these years later, when you two are together, things can become heated extremely quickly.

+++

“You know you treat me like a princess,” you reply quietly, as if someone else might overhear you and decipher the unspoken desire behind your words. It was only for you two to hear.

The air between you becomes thick with need, and you begin slowly kissing down Spencer’s jaw, towards his mouth. He stills while his eyes shut to focus on the sensation. When you finally get to his lips, you don’t kiss him. You ghost your lips over his and wait for him to realize that you’re holding back on him on purpose. He opens his eyes and lets out a ragged, frustrated breath when he does.

“You fucking tease.”

Without either of you moving yet, the game continues. You feign innocence, a tactic that Spencer is all too familiar with, both at work and with you.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I only just got home. You want to pull this act this early tonight?” he teases.

You swiftly step away, pretending to give up. “You’re right, I should just probably go and— ”

You’re cut off by Spencer pulling you back by your arm before pressing you up against the door, pinning your arms above your head.

You fucking love driving him crazy by being a little bit of a brat. Watching his resolve break while he revels in taming you into submission. You bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes.

“Seems like you’re a bit needier than usual tonight, too, Spence,” you quip.

He presses your hips to the door with his own making you feel his hard bulge against your stomach. “I don’t know. You tell me, baby girl.”

Suddenly, you find yourself wanting to cut the act. You angle your hips up and grind into him to the best of your ability, your breathing becoming more erratic as you do.

With his free hand, he caresses your jaw, searching your face. “Such a pretty, needy girl. So needy for me, right baby?”

You nod and with his hand cradling your head, Spencer engulfs you in a kiss, grinding his own hips into you as he does so. You’re moaning into his mouth, which is just driving him even crazier.

When he pulls away, you’re both panting, in part to catch your breath, but also, because you’re so turned on.

“Can I trust that you’ll behave now, baby girl? Can I take you to bed?”

The desperation and neediness is obvious in your voice, but you don’t even care at this point. You need to let him know that he’s gotten to you. That you’ve folded for him. “God, yes. Please?”

+++

You both need to be needed, just in different ways. Spencer needs to feel a sense of control over you. He needs to know that you’ll submit to him because you need him so bad. Earning that submission is part of the game. He enjoys the strategy of it—calculating your next move while he figures out his own—because once you both beautifully break together, it’s game over for him.

You need to know that Spencer needs you so desperately that he becomes damn near primal about it. It’s such a stark contrast from how he normally is, but in the best, most lascivious way. When he’s that needy for you, you’d do anything to please him and to make him feel good.

+++

Your clothes are strewn about the hallway because on your way to the bedroom, you continued to further tease each other by stripping down as you went. Once you you got your underwear off (and after almost tripping while attempting to do so), you turned your ass towards him five feet behind you. He was in the process of trying to get his pants off.

“Hey, Spence, like what you see?” you teased, wagging your ass for him to see. Spencer kicked his pants the rest of the way off and ran to try and scoop you up into his arms. Fully naked, you escaped his grasp, ran into your room, and hopped onto the bed. Both of you now laughing and out of breath, Spencer stands in the doorway taking in how good you look. The playfulness quickly shifts back to anticipation and lust as he stares at you.

Hand gliding down his stomach, he palms himself through his underwear, the only item of clothing that remains. You bite your lip as your legs spread for him, giving him one of his favorite views. Spencer grows harder in his hand, slowly rocking his hips. He allows himself to be selfish when he knows he’s going to be paying you back in kind very shortly.

You reach between your legs to play with yourself. To tease him in the ways that he’s teasing you.

“No touching, baby,” he commands.

“What!? Nooo,” you whine.

“You said you’d be good if I took you to bed, so behave.”

Your hand snakes its way down between your legs again as you try to put on a bit of a show so that he’ll either let you touch yourself or so he’ll finally come ease the throbbing ache between your legs. “But, this is being good, isn’t it?”

Spencer immediately makes his way over to you, crawls on top of you, and pins your hands back above your head.

This push and pull is killing you, but it’s also what you both are so devilishly good at. At least you got what you wanted.

Spencer attacks your neck while your hands are still above your head. “I’m the only one that’s touching you tonight.”

He's kissing and sucking and driving you even more crazy when he finally gets to the spot just below your ear that's, oh, so sensitive. Your clit is throbbing like crazy for him and you’re moaning at even the slightest touch. He’s finally got you right where he wants you.

He slides down your body and lays on the bed between your legs, placing them over his shoulders. With his big hands gripping your hips, you’re more than ready for him to dive in.

Spencer Reid always goes down on you like a starved man. When he’s going down on you, it’s almost a selfish act for him because of how much it turns him on. You two are an like an echo chamber of horniness. He physically makes you feel good. You feeling good turns him on even more. Him eating you out as if there’s nothing else that would make him happier? Hot. As. Fuck.

He hovers his face over your pussy and as he speaks, his exhalations tingle every nerve ending they come into contact with.

“Baby, fucking look at you. Look at how wet this pussy is for me already, fuck. Do you want my mouth, baby girl? Beg for it.”

You’re so turned on that you’re basically a bumbling, begging mess. His resolve to restrain himself in any capacity won’t last much longer and neither will yours, so you beg and squirm and whimper in an effort to just get him touching you more. You need to depressurize this kettle before you explode.

Still not touching you, Spencer reaches his hand up towards your mouth. With two fingers in front of your mouth, he commands you, “You just need to do one more thing first, baby. You’ve almost earned my mouth. Show me how good you suck, gorgeous.”

You take his two long fingers into your mouth, feverishly bobbing your head as if you were sucking his dick. You moan on his fingers as you work—immensely turned on, but also trying to earn his mouth.

“Fuck, yes, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

Removing his fingers from your mouth, he wastes no time using the wetness to rub your clit. You all but cry at the relief and pleasure mixed together.

Gripping your hips again, he finally makes haste in eating you out. His mouth feels amazing, as always, and the sensations of his mouth alternating between sucking and licking and kissing, has you on cloud nine.

After all this time, he knows exactly how to make you feel good and exactly how to make you cum. He tortured himself enough already by holding back. You keep having to look away because the sight of how ferally he’s eating you out, combined with the sensation, is too much.

But, Spencer knows what he’s doing. Between licks, he spits out, “Eyes on me, pretty girl.”

“FUCK,” you moan—nearly scream—as your body begins to crest up to that peak.

It takes everything in you to keep your eyes from closing. His gorgeous eyes watching you begin to shake has you falling in love all over again.

“Spence,” you moan, “I’m g-getting closer. It feels too good, baby.”

He doesn’t want to break away from your pussy when you’re this close to cumming and possibly ruin your orgasm, so he moans enthusiastically as he works to push you further. He’s a man on a mission. His nails have dug into your hips with his grip holding you to his face and you wish you could keep those nail indents like little tattooed memories of what he can do to you.

“I’m so fucking close, baby. I’m g-gonna cum,” you sputter out.

The sensation of Spencer absolutely devouring you, the gentle burn of his nails dug in to your hips, his moans vibrating your clit, his gorgeous eyes watching you fall apart in his arms. It’s too much for both of you. He’s gently grinding himself against the bed as he works and you breathe in a sharp gasp right before your body lets go.

“Fuck, Spence, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” you cry, tears beginning to well up as the edges of your vision close in.

Spencer sits up and rips his underwear off as fast as humanly possible. He lines his cock up at your entrance and then slides himself in, bottoming out. You’re still cumming and throbbing, completely in a blissful daze, but as he slides in, everything gets ten times as intense as it had previously been.

His pained moans are the sweetest sound to you right now, his face contorting as the pleasure washes over him. As your orgasm fades, you’re left in a heavenly, sexed-out haze. Your pussy will continue to contract and throb for a little while longer and Spencer is relishing in the sensation of it all as he languidly fucks you, kissing you every few thrusts because he needs to keep showing you how deeply loved you are.

Your body is awash with a storm of various post-orgasm neurotransmitters. “Was I a good girl?” you ask him, tears filling your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. You aren’t at all sad, but you are extremely turned on, extremely emotional, and with each thrust of his cock, you’re thrust further into your post-orgasm daze. Everything is too much, but at the same time, you need him to keep fucking you like this. Spencer’s praise soothes the emotional ache.

“Baby girl, how could you even ask that?” he asks, flustered. His face is flushed with a mix of concern and bliss.

The little power dynamic game you were playing earlier has been over for some time now. You’re both bundles of raw, vulnerable emotion. You love seeing Spencer like this. It’s the most beautiful, connected feeling and if you could just live in this realm of cosmic connection with him forever, you would. You may be slightly out of it, but he’s right there with you, losing it more and more second by second as he nears closer to his own release.

He delivers a hard, deep thrust between each sentence his manages to spit out, still peppering in a passionate kiss here and there. “You’re such a good girl, my love. Look at how good you’re taking me. You’re taking my cock so good. Fuck, baby, you feel like heaven. I’m yours baby. I belong to you. I’m so fucking in love with you.”

When he gets more rambly and whimpery than his usual, you know he’s close.

Catching his gaze and holding it, staring longingly into his beautiful eyes, you give him the final push. “I love you so fucking much. Spence, baby, please. Please, cum inside me.”

With how close he already was, you didn’t have to tell him twice. His orgasm is a mix of “I love you’s”, muttered profanities, moaning, and lots of whimpering.

He looks so fucking beautiful when he cums so you try your hardest to encode it to memory. The view of his face above yours as he fucks you hard and fast. The sounds he makes combined with the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the wetness of each thrust. The smell of him and the sweat on your bodies which laces the room. The sensations. The many, indescribable feelings that course through your body while you make love him.

With his final few thrusts, he lowers himself down closer to you, resting a forearm beside your head. His chest is pressed against yours and you can feel his heart pounding and his labored breaths.

His body involuntarily jerks into you a few more times as he comes down from his high. One lone curl of hair had gotten caught in the beads of sweat on his forehead, so you rake his hair off his face as you pull him down to kiss you. This kiss oozes love and passion. It’s slow—a complete contrast to the frenzied kisses which occurred only moments ago between thrusts.

Spencer pulls out of you and you both lay on your sides facing each other. His hand can’t seem to let yours go. He can’t stop touching you and needs to keep you close even though you both are hot and sweaty and need some fresher air.

“How the fuck are you mine?” he laughs, as if he still can’t figure out why you’d want to be with him. “My perfect girl. The most beautiful girl in the world.”

You blush at his compliments, though, since your face is still flushed, you doubt the blushing is very visible. “My perfect, handsome, intelligent guy.”

Both of you still sweaty and sticky, you curl into his arms and he kisses your forehead. Sobering up more from how dick-drunk you just were, you can’t help but throw a joke in.

“Plus, now that you let me live with you, I’m going to be much harder to get rid of when I’m annoying you, so you’d better get used to me.”

His chest shakes with a quiet laugh and you look up at his face to see his gorgeous smile.

“Isn’t that why you got me noise-canceling headphones last Christmas? For your impromptu karaoke sessions?”

You gently smack his chest. Both of you are laughing at the inside joke because even though Spencer regularly asks you to sing to him and he loves your voice, you did get pretty drunk once when you had JJ and Garcia over for girl’s night, and your drunk karaoke was apparently… quite the show.

Spencer continues with a sincere reply. “I know you’ve been worried about me and whether this big change in our living situation has been affecting me, but I promise that I’m really happy. I can’t imagine living without you anymore, actually. It’s hard enough to leave you to go in for the day, let alone when I leave for work trips.”

You kiss his perfect, soft lips and he pulls you in for more the first time you try to pull back.

“You know that, like your mom and like the team, it’s my job as your girlfriend to worry about you, right? I know you worry about me, and, baby, I barely leave the house, so, of course, I’ll always be worried about you. I really appreciate you telling me that I don’t need to be worried about this one particular thing, though. I’m so glad that you’re happy living with me because I’m very happy to be living with you, my love.”

“You mean so much to me, baby. I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m literally so fucking in love with you, Spence.” You lovingly give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve been clenching my thighs since you slid out of me, though, so how about we go clean up?”

Spencer hops to his feet, holding a hand out to you, smiling. “My princess,” he offers.

You take his hand and he helps you to your feet. In your fake posh accent from earlier, you reply, “Why, thank you, my fine prince.”

You both giggle at the reference and head into the ensuite bathroom to take a nice, warm shower together.

This is my first ever fic that I've completed and actually published somewhere! If you enjoyed it, I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know! I want to finish the romance book that I've been writing someday, but I realized that I needed some practice actually finishing any of my projects. I decided that writing fics, which I'm already reading anyway, was great practice for this! I'm open to suggestions or (kind) constructive criticism, as well. :)

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[chickennugqueen]

1-50 please

for anyone that doesn't want to know all this info, pls feel free to scroll lmao

1: Do you ever wish you were someone else? nope! i very much enjoy who i am

2: What is your full name? cortney rose lesovoy (follow me on instagram @/cortneylesovoy

3: How old are you and how old do you get mistaken for? i'm 25, usually get mistaken for 18-22 lmao

4: Have you ever dyed your hair? yes! it was purple and pink for a bit, but i'm back to my natural color

5: What’s your eye color? dark brown

6: Your opinion about your body and how comfortable you are with it i like my body. i used to struggle with an eating disorder, and it's something that does still affect me to this day, but i also love myself and am learning to be as comfortable as i can be with it.

7: Do you have any tattoos or piercings? some tattoos (more soon pls) and a couple piercings

8: What would you say is your best quality? my empathy and kindness

9: What are you really bad at? being patient and holding back my opinion on things

10: What talent do you wish you had? would like to get better at videography

11: Are you nice to everyone? everyone except fascists, nazis, and people who aren't accepting of all humanity

12: What do you think about the most? the man i adore

13: Things you like/dislike about yourself i really like who i am as a person. i'll always have growing to do but i'm happy with who i am, so i don't dislike anything about me.

14: What is your least favorite word? not sure i have one

15: What is your favorite word? anything that sounds like flabberghasted or bamboozled or something silly

16: Are you more like your mom or your dad? dad for sure

17: Would you ever smile at a stranger? always even though i'm shy

18: A reason you’ve lied to someone because i'm afraid of disappointment duh

19: Are you lying about anything right now? not that i'm aware of

20: Have you kissed someone older than you? of course

21: Do you believe in love at first sight? nope!

22: Do you believe in soulmates? i used to! but no, i don't. love is putting in the work.

23: Are looks important? eh, not really. looks will catch my attention but won't make me stay, whereas i can fall for someone's personality and not be attracted to them at first

24: Opinion on relationship age differences as long as its two consenting adults aka both over the age of 21, go for it.

25: Would you date someone off the Internet? for sure

26: Have you ever cried over a boy/girl? who hasn't?

27: Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? of course. a universal experience

28: Anyone you’re giving up on right now? nope!

29: Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated? absolutely during my teenage years

30: Have you ever liked your best friend? yes! when we were in college

31: How does someone win your heart? similar politics, can banter with me, isn't afraid of my past trauma, will just stick by me when shit gets hard, is my best friend

32: What turns you on? emotional connection

33: What turns you off? so many things lmao, but definitely people being too sexual right off the bat before i get to know them.

34: Do you get jealous easily? depends on the person! at the place i'm at right now, not usually

35: What is your definition of cheating? if you haven't discussed it with your partner and there's a reason you won't tell them, it's cheating.

36: Do you forgive betrayal? depends what it is. i'm a forgiving person, usually

37: Have you ever been cheated on? never been in a relationship

38: Have you ever cheated on someone? see above

39: How often do you listen to music? every dang day

40: First concert you attended hilary duff!!

41: Last movie you watched shit i don't really watch movies.... probably black widow??

42: Favorite type of movie sucker for drama and romcoms

43: Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about? a couple of my sexual assaults, yeah

44: Are you good at hiding your feelings? literally never

45: Do you fall in love easily? i don't think so. i've only loved one person.

46: Do you think people say I love you too much? nope! say it to your friends, your partners, your family, anyone you know! doesn't diminish its meaning

47: What’s your favorite holiday? christmas

48: Are you a forgiving person? Do you like being that way? if someone apologizes and changes their actions or makes amends, yep!

49: Where’s the most magical place on earth? my bed i love sleeping

50: What’s your “type”? emo boys with long hair n pretty eyes for sure

[coochiequeens]

Anyone old enough to remember how Dan Savage adviced teen boys to improve themselves before looking for girlfriends instead of podcast bros telling them that if they can't get girlfriends it has nothing to do with them being unhygienic or useless outside of gaming?

You’re having a hard time getting girls. That sucks. I remember what it was like when I was a young teenager and wanted boys and couldn’t get any. It sucked. But the sad fact is that most young teenage boys are repulsive—that is, they are half-formed works in progress. Girls mature physically more quickly than boys, which means most girls your age already look like young women and they’re generally attracted to (slightly) older boys—and there you are, aching for your first girlfriend, but still looking like a short, hairless chimp.

But don’t despair, HUTB. Your awkward/repulsive stage will pass. In the meantime, here’s what you need to do: worry less about getting your young teenage self laid and start thinking about getting your 18- or 20-year-old self laid. Join a gym and get yourself a body that girls will find irresistible, read—read books—so that you’ll have something to say to girls (the best way to make girls think you’re interesting is to actually be interesting), and get out of the house and do shit—political shit, sporty shit, arty shit—so that you’ll meet different kinds of girls in different kinds of settings and become comfortable talking with them.

Some more orders: get a decent haircut and use deodorant and floss your teeth and take regular showers and wear clean clothes. Go on-line and read about birth control and STIs, and learn enough about female anatomy that you’ll be able to find a clitoris in the dark. Masturbate in moderation—no more than 10 times a day—and vary your masturbatory routine. I can’t emphasize this last point enough. A vagina does not feel like a clenched fist, HUTB, nor does a mouth, an anus, titty fucking, dry humping, or e-stim. If you don’t want to be sending me another pathetic letter in five years complaining about your inability to come unless you’re beating your own meat, HUTB, you will vary your routine now so that you’ll be able to respond to different kinds of sexual stimulation once you do start getting the girls.

Good luck, kiddo.

(The above advice was for a straight teenage boy. Gay teenage boys should read boys where I said girls, anus where I said vagina, prostate where I said clitoris, and fist where I said fist.)

Sure seems like calling men broke and ugly would be a huge reason why they would want to lean conservativeslmao

Yall are turning Gen Z and Gen A men into the biggest young conservative generation ever just because you are retarded misandrists

Riiight, but when men call us cumdumpsters and thots and bitches and rapemeat and bops, we “have to be the bigger person” huh

No woman will ever love you and you’re gonna die alone bro, get outta my inbox and lie on some tracks lmao

[spiritualbambi]

pick a card: future partner's sexual energy [18+]

pile 1 -> pile 2 pile 3 -> pile 4

JOIN MY DISCORD

MASTERLIST

MY KOFI

INSTRUCTIONS: breath in, breath out and choose whatever picture that draws you in the most!

NOTE: it’s completely fine if you are attracted to more than one pile - the universe probably wants you to see some other messages. this is also general reading, not everything may resonate!

DISCLAIMER: 18+ reading.

PILE 1

their sexual energy is refreshing, like a breath of fresh air: it will leave you feeling "baptised" - cleansed, rejuvenated, and loved.

they are a great balance of soft and harsh in bed; i see slow, sensual hand strokes along your body but deep and lustful kissing/thrusts. holding your hands but biting your lip, caressing your waist but marking your neck with the darkest possible hickeys - this is the duality your person has. overly, their energy reminds me of a fallen angel.

at first sight, your person might not seem overly sexual, they might keep to themselves about their sexual thoughts. their sexuality is hidden by this shield; it's quite transparent but foggy - they don't choose to hide it, it's natural for their being (and in fact it could add a feeling of compelling mystery to their aura!).

but their eyes give away their sexual side immediately. their body might look composed, but their eyes translate the energy so well - the duality might intimidate you at first. even if they sparkle so innocently, looking deeply there is a hint of that pure lust.

their sexual energy feels almost supernatural - it's definitely a rare blessing for both them and you. it carries an overwhelming angelic vibe but also soft tragedy. this is the energy that will make you feel protected and safe. they will make sure you forget every trouble in your world, keeping you in this unescapable, dreamy state till you are ready to let go. it might leave you feeling out of touch with reality even a few minutes after - as if it was a dream, another reality, another world. it is like transformative meditation, a prayer to ancient gods, a pagan ritual. beautifully frightening energy.

PILE 2

their sexual energy is playful but carries duality. it reminds me of summer fields, meadows of poppies or tulips, warm breeze, HOWEVER i also see heavy rainfall, tornados, floods.

your person might trick you with their perfectly sculpted façade - they might be easy-going, friendly, mischievous, have a good sense of humour - but under all of this there is STRONG sexuality.

you might catch yourself feeling really comfortable around your person, not having even one sexual thought (and totally not wondering if your person is having any too), and then BOOM! they surprise you by something like a sensual touch on your waist or even sudden sexual tension. this energy is full of surprises; it's unpredictable - and the same continues in the bedroom.

this person might just straight up shock you with some of their choices in bed. for example, they were just gently trailing down your body with kisses, and then suddenly, they stop, look up and just straight up tell, "are you into ropes?" - LIKE WHAT?

this energy is definitely a teenage dream, it carries this vibe of wattpad, ao3 fanfics - as if it was dragged from one of those really well-written smut stories.

your sexual experience with this person will seem to be out of movie - it's so overwhelmingly fun (did you manifest this?), this is what every teenage girl pray for every night.

they won't try to hide their sexual side at all, so be ready. it is highly strong and energetic - they even might end up accidentally hurting you (like squeezing your waist or biting your lip too hard).

PILE 3

your person's sexual energy is raw. it is heavy and lustful. a succubus/incubus.

the energy is strong, might be too overwhelming for some. their feelings run strongly together with sex. they might have a hard time having a relationship without sex.

this type of energy will leave you feeling heavy, filled with emotion afterwards. it can feel "suffocating" even, the strength it carries may feel straight up out of this world.

this is the type of energy that even others might feel - if your person ever gets sexual thoughts about you in public (and they will), people near you might manage to catch onto this vibe and stare.

your person gets powered by their sexuality, and this is quite a dangerous aspect. they drop every last pieces of shyness they ever have had, get a boost of stamina/strength/energy, and every feeling becomes more intense than ever (therefore, angry/jealous sex might not be a surprise in this case).

sex with them feels intense, their energy feels penetrating and invasive - might give you fears that they can read your mind suddenly. energetically they colonise your body, your mind and your soul - and this feeling also carries on for awhile afterwards.

if their sexuality was a colour it would be definitely wine-blood red or deep purple. for this reason, it might even feel vamp-like. it's borderline sinful in a way. if you are interested in tarot (have done readings on your future partner or have watched tarot readings), you might have gotten the devil card not once.

PILE 4

oh, their energy is the embodiment of sensuality. they are soft and tempting - like a falling rose petal. they remind me of autumn - it's something about those falling leaves.

they are highly focused on pleasure, and will do everything in their power to provide you with it. their sexual screams giver, they take but only when they truly think they deserve it.

their sexual energy can show off in a form of flirting. they can be great with words, they know how to charm, even if it's subconsciously done.

the bedroom action is sensual. there is no other world to explain it. it's pure sensuality. the gentle strokes, deep long kissing, and oral sex will feel like heaven with them. they know what to do, and if they don't - they will learn.

this type of energy might be into dim places, vax/ice play, soft choking, candles, and overly romantic surroundings. their energy feels like a poem, a shakespearean sonnet, moonlight sonata. it feels incredibly artistic (they might be artistic themselves); there is a huge chance they romanticise sex itself.

this energy carries this beautifully sentimental vibe - in the moment you become their muse, their everything. it reminds me of "romeo and juliet" - romantic, rich and unforgettable. if a piano or a violin was translated into sexual energies - it would be your future person.

[tiannasfanfic]

Kickstart My Heart

Eddie Munson x Reader Headcannons (Slightly perv!Eddie x NotSoInnocentReader)

Rating: Mature

Author Note: My first time writing for Eddie Munson. Technically a non-binary reader, but I tried to navigate things in the way an afab non-binary might in 1984 when they were finding themselves and having to hide it. She/her pronouns are used as a result. Clothing is described twice but no features of readers. This scenario popped into my head while reading perv!Eddie x InnocentReader fics. I have more ideas. If people like this, I’ll write more.

CW: Heavily implied innocence kink and corruption kink. Obsessive behavior towards another person. Spying on someone through their bedroom window.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

You moved to Hawkins in your Junior year during Eddie’s first senior year.

Eddie noticed you right away. How could he not? You radiated a very odd type of virginal innocence that intrigued him.

You didn’t dress like any of the other girls at Hawkins. It almost looked like your parents were dressing you for Bible Camp but completely forgot what gender their kid was. It was all polos, khakis, button up sweaters and sneakers in neutral colors. Every now and then you’d add a splash of color, maybe a denim jacket or colorful hat, but that was it. Your backpack was a dull brown.

For the first few weeks, Eddie took it upon himself to keep an eye on you. To make sure no one messed with you, of course. If someone did, he fully intended to swoop in and be your knight in shining. Maybe he’d even get a kiss as a reward.

Luckily, no one ever did. People may have thought you were odd, but generally paid you no mind. Eddie noticed you seemed to like it that way.

Eventually, he starts talking to you and finds you even more fascinating than he initially thought. But it wasn’t anything that you actually said that he found so interesting. It’s what you’re weren’t saying.

From the very first time you two spoke, it felt like you were deliberately holding yourself back. You started to say something a few times then stopped yourself. It was very intriguing. This habit continued in other conversations and Eddie assumed you were just shy. That tipped his interest in you towards a fixation.

The end of the school year came. You became a senior, Eddie was held back for the first time.

He wasn’t upset about it once he realized he now had three classes with you. Maybe now he could figure you out and figure out the best way to make you his.

As the two of you eased into friendship, Eddie was surprised to find out exactly how hard it was to get you to open up about yourself. You talked just fine when the conversation was about school work, people at school or things coming up at school, but you clammed up when it came to anything about you.

At that point, everything was pointing towards you being a perfectly normal and average teenage girl, just a wildly innocent and possibly naive one. Your body language virtually screamed “virgin” when sexual topics came up. You really clammed up then.

Eddie became determined to be the first one to ruin you.

After giving you a ride home a few times and failing to have any sort of meaningful conversation with you in the process, Eddie decided that the best way for him to figure you out was to spy on you.

So, one night when he knew you’d be home, he parked his van a few streets over from where you live, walked the rest of the way over, hopped the fence and shimmied up the tree that looked into your bedroom window.

What he saw nearly made him fall out of the tree.

Literally.

Eddie lost his footing and had to scramble to hold on.

Once he’d gotten himself situated again, he gawked at the scene through the window before him.

Your room was, for the most part, painted and decorated about like he expected. The walls were pink with white trim and a white ceiling. Your bed was straightened but unmade, showing off white flowery sheets, a light gray and white blanket, and white comforter with pink flowers. The furniture was your standard white pieces you’d find in every girls room, with books and various knickknacks decorating your bookshelves and dresser. A shelf on one wall was piled high with stuffed animals of various ages; some looking extremely worn down with multiple repairs, some looking pristine.

That’s where Eddie’s expectations ended though.

First, his eyes took in the life sized poster of Freddie Mercury that was attached to the back of your bedroom door. Freddie was donning one of his more recent looks; slicked back hair, mustache, sunglasses, tight pants and a leather jacket with no shirt.

Then, Eddie’s eyes flicked to the wall your dresser was on, which was nearly papered over with posters. Some of the bands included Fleetwood Mac, Iron Maiden, Jimi Hendrix, Black Sabbath, Metallica, Frank Zappa and The Beatles.

Then, on the last wall he could see, which was the wall by your bed, you had a collection of fantasy art that looked like it had been ripped out of magazines. It ranged from High Fantasy scenes, like you might see in an illustrated Lord of the Rings, to images from the highly sexualized genre of sword and sorcery, where the men have big muscles and the women are all scantily clad.

Finally, there was you. You took his breath away more than anything else.

You were sitting on the floor on the middle of your room, your legs crossed under you. You were dressed for bed already in a baggy t shirt and what looked like pajama pants. Your hair was up in a messy ponytail.

It was the first time he had ever seen you in black and with your hair up. You looked absolutely stunning.

It felt like he was truly seeing you for the first time ever as you sat there, singing along to music he couldn’t hear through the closed window. You looked relaxed and happy, the exact opposite of how you always looked at school.

Eddie finally broke his gaze away from you long enough to glance at what you were doing.

Sitting in front of you on several layers of newspaper was a medium sized dollhouse. It wasn’t one of those fancy ones. Eddie recognized it as the same one Garth’s older sister had a few years ago, only this one looked almost the complete opposite from hers. Yours actually looked really cool.

You had completely repainted the outside of the house. The white siding was now black, the gray trim was now a darker gray and it looked like you were in the process of shading the already black roof to make it looked aged and weathered.

Eddie watched you for awhile, then made his way out of the tree.

On the drive home, he realized he was coming away with no answers on how best to woo you. He only had more questions.

And that only made him more obsessed.

[josiebelladonna]

in a mood. here we go again.

Perform a word association exercise with the word “sex.”

Secrets. Stop. Lies. Cheating. Shame. Hatred. Self-hatred. Discomfort. Disgust. Hopeless. Chanceless. Trapped. “What am I doing wrong?” “What’s wrong with me?” Nope.

Would you say that you have or have not had a strong sexual drive in your life? How does and did this level of sexual drive affect your intimate relationships?

I’m once again going to try really hard and not be negative with these, because I’m exhausted. Insecurity and no confidence are no joke and not something easily fixed by telling me I need to exude confidence or to “just be myself” because those pieces of advice are anything but helpful. And we wonder why I get so angry about it. These are meant to help me and meant to let me audit this part of me, this part of me that I have never loved or felt proud of before.

Looking over the last thirty years and I guess I let my own insecurities get the best of me—this shit always happens to me, too. Despite wavering and ebbing and flowing like the tides, I actually have had a very strong sex drive in my life: I just think about how boy crazy I am, how my eyes wander onto girls, and how I always have been nuts about it since I hit puberty. It’s only gotten bigger as I’ve gotten bigger, too. 

Thing is I never know what to do with it. I could never picture anyone liking what they saw with me, so I always keep it to myself. I was so disinterested in the people, boys and girls, at my school that I never could do anything: being treated like dirt by your own peers since you were ten years old, yeah, expect to check out all together. There have actually been a few times I thought I was lesbian because I am really intrigued by the female form and to be honest, there are times I’m actually drawn to it more than I am men’s bodies and I wonder what lesbian sex would feel like. I never could experiment because of my environment: being openly lgbtq+ where I grew up was like suicide, yes, even in California. 

There were no resources and I was too ashamed to talk about it anyway. I just told people I was straight because I didn’t want them to know this part of me. But… I do love men, though. I really love men, actually. I think men are absolutely gorgeous. I fantasize about men all the time. Hell, I have a crush on a man right now. So, I thought I was bi for a while and then I started seeing nonbinary people with really beautiful bodies. Ran around in circles and I eventually landed on pansexual. It’s good to know that there’s a name for it, but I still hold back. I can’t picture myself with someone, no matter what gender they are, who knows how to put a handle on this… this… thing that is my libido. I can’t do anything with this.

What struggles have you had with your sexuality?

Way too many to list. Way too many. I guess the big one is just being comfortable with it, to the point of genuinely angering me. I reject my desires, like I don’t find them normal or pleasurable. I don’t find myself as all that attractive, either. When I was a teenager, no one ever made a pass on me. Girls didn’t like me, boys were either taken or they didn’t give a shit. I didn’t actually start getting looks until fairly recently, like two years ago.

I have this very distinct memory from high school—I don’t remember the context, may have been for spirit week, I have no clue—there was a day where we all had to dress up in either red, yellow, or green, like the stoplights: red for “taken”, green for single, and yellow for “talking”. I remember I used to have green pants and I wore those plus my Green Day shirt. I got to school… and I’m not exaggerating. I was the only person wearing green. I was just in a sea of red with a few yellow spots here and there. I remember people staring at me, too, like judging me, like, how fucking dare I walk around out here advertising my singleness. If I recall correctly, it wasn’t just students, either, I had a couple of teachers look at me funny, too.

In what ways do you nurture your personal sense of sexuality, and/or sexual relationships?

I draw. I write. …I live on a mountain top, 20 minutes away from a trump bastion. it’s not like I have a ton of options.

I like to wear jewel tones and low-slung jeans: I do not like high-waisted jeans or shorts because they cut me in half and bunch up around my crotch and my butt (every. single. time); I really just… don’t get the appeal and why everyone clutches at themselves at the mere mention of anything low-rise. I like camisoles. I like pajamas. I like underwear: as much as I cringe at the thought of wearing lingerie, I do like just wearing a bra, and I do have a teddy in my closet, too. I like to wear jeans: I have never felt good in a dress before. I dunno, it’s a bitch to walk around in and sit in, and I hate how the skirt always wants to blow up (I’ve lived in windy areas my whole life). After a shower, I let my hair hang down for a few hours before I brush it: if I haven’t showered in a few days, I comb my bangs up into this pompadour upon my head so I have this Elvis/Dennis Miller thing going until I feel like climbing in. I like tops that are low-cut and are a bit snug: I really don’t mind if they ride up my body a bit. I recently rediscovered my love of midriff tops! They are the only things to let me put the exception on high-waisted jeans.  Only makeup I have is chapstick and nail polish: when I was little, I’d put on lipstick and eyeshadow and mascara but I never could get into it, though. I always look over made. “You’d be so much prettier, though!” Heh, nope. Even just a little bit makes me look like I just walked out of the circus.

Write about your first sexual experiences. Interpret sexual experience any way like, even it’s about you first kiss.

(Resisting the urge to be angry, even though I kind of am annoyed just reading this)

I guess there was the first time I touched myself. I was in front of a mirror and I opened my legs and looked at myself there. I touched my clit the first time and I remember it really tickled me. I felt my labia and even stuck a finger or two in.

And then naturally, I got caught.

Write about your last sexual experience. How was it different from your first sexual experience?

I guess this could be the last time I touched myself: I was standing up and had my underwear on that time (just to play around a bit). Did very little but then I moved to my nipples and I was starting to go nuts a bit. I also tried between the legs again naked, with a shower head, and that really did something. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve gotten a lot more sensitive as I’ve gotten older.

What were you taught about sex as you grew up? What did you not know that you needed to know?

Sex ed from middle school onwards, plus I was told that guys just want to get in my pants by my drug addict father. I was never told about pleasure or anything good or that kinks are good or the range of sexual orientations or anything genuinely useful. Just your standard “insert penis into vagina, have babies” and that was it. I was also bombarded by these messages of “don’t be promiscuous or a slut, don’t get a reputation, no one will want you otherwise” and it was always in junction with being ladylike, too. Like, you HAVE TO BE LADYLIKE or no one will love you (gen z has adapted this ideology in worrying amounts, like nevermind triggering me for a second: you cannot tell me that this current generation is healthy when they adapt some of the most inhibitory behaviors ever). I also heard things like “if you have sex, you WILL get pregnant, FACT.” (i.e., the whole “men force abortion on women” thing that pro-life feminists claim is like science fiction to me)

How has your views of sex changed over time?

I guess i’m more aware of it and it’s not as alien to me, but that really isn’t saying much. 30 years old and I feel like I just scratched the surface.

Describe a sexual fantasy you have.

If I wrote it, and it has either a mature or explicit rating, it’s probably fantasy.

Turn a sexual experience into a piece of short fiction. Describe the setting. Use dialogue. Write erotic description.

Judge me forever.

Write about the best sex partner you have ever been with. Describe a special time together.

So… I’m a virgin. I really do feel like no one wants me and “they” were right.

What changes if any would you like to make about your sexual self?

I really want more confidence and freedom, and I’m so wary of saying that, too, because I know what the answer is going to be. It’s going to be this bullshit, hackneyed, so-called “advice” that’s only going to piss me off. I have felt so much shame about this fucking bullshit, that it’s a chore to even get out of bed. I hate my sexuality. I want it all changed so I don’t have to think about it anymore. But, aside from the changes in career, I have had my boundaries disrespected by family, friends, peers, classmates, everyone. Everyone apparently thinks it’s okay to invalidate my feelings and my choices, and that it’s okay to make fun of me when I change my mind and think it over again. 

Take my whole issue with makeup: I literally hate wearing makeup, and girls often asked me why I don’t wear it. “I just don’t,” and also “I don’t like the way it feels on my skin”. Cue the “there’s natural makeup” and the “you’d look so much prettier with it”. I GAVE YOU AN ANSWER.

Write a sexual confession to your partner or someone you admire. Be straight forward or as kinky as you would like.

So, this took me about an hour to write up because I initially came up dry and then I found myself in a very vulnerable position when I started thinking about what I… really wish I could tell you everything I feel about you. I have so much fear around how I feel about you, and I really, really don’t know how you’ll react to this should you ever see it. I’m not confident in my words. I could lose you. I could push you away. I think my desires are terrifying and gross, and I just don’t know what to say to you most of the time: really, I feel like I’m bullshitting with you all of the time because you’re so intelligent and cool and content and seem to have everything together… and I’m not. I feel like I’m just not worth your time most days: there are far more women out there who are far more interesting than me, women who are better than me, like they have degrees and they’re accomplished architects who refer to themselves as gypsies for some reason even though that word is a level of self-hatred i can’t even begin to fathom (i can’t explain it, either—and you heard this from me, too—but she’s gay. Think about it: talks about you in businesslike fashion, makes you visibly uncomfortable, talks down to other men and is lowkey too friendly to other women, obsessed with frivolous nonsense to where it feels like denial of something else, it’s closeted homosexuality). But what have I done?

I look into your eyes, those deep blue eyes, as deep as the Pacific Ocean. I look at your handsome face, how it gets more handsome when you’re smiling. I look at your beautiful hair, at how it’s two-toned and soft-looking: I look at your hair from when you were younger and I want to play with it. Don’t cut your hair short again: it was cute, but you look so gorgeous with long hair (it suits your face better, too). No, you don’t need to lose weight: you look so healthy and so cute with a little belly, and I want you to have it back. Eat up. Bring that cute little tummy back for me.

I think of kissing you there, touching you and holding you around your full waist, especially after you’ve eaten.

I think of cuddling with you—I love to cuddle and be warm and safe.

I think of touching you below the belt, of feeling and fondling you there: I have often considered that belly rubs lead to handjobs, and belly kisses lead to blowjobs. I think of you doing the same to me: that velvet tongue on the insides of my thighs; those long fingers on my clit or around the rim of my belly button or around my nipples, those soft cherry lips on my skin…

I think of making out with you, just really slow, soft, sensual love-making where we’re close and feeling each other.

I think about some of the erotic fics I’ve penned about you, especially the really kinky ones, and I can’t help but want a few of them to come to life (like voice kink: I meant it when I said I love your voice).

I think of role playing with you: you’re the hot professor, especially now that you have glasses. Or we’re vampires or merfolk.

I also just think of kissing you, giving you a little peck on the cheek for being such a sweetie. You’re kind of everything that I’ve dreamed of, everything I love in another person, and if I’m being honest, you don’t even seem real sometimes because you really are that perfect to me.

What would you like to learn about your sexual self?

Why do I never attract the types that I like—I’ll admit it, too, I have a type (boys with long hair, artistic types who are liberal but have an open mind, smart ones, sweet ones, kind of round ones, curvy women, slender women, women with dyed hair, women with something unusual about them like bright eyes with dark skin). My facebook is littered with people I have no connection with, like there’s only a few that I really do consider friends. Why do I have so much shame.

What part of your sexuality seems the most mysterious to you?

Those lesbian thoughts I keep having. Even with as much as I love men, I can’t help but feel aroused by women as well.

And also why I keep coming back to this. Why did I keep my incredibly high sex drive under wraps when sexual energy is incredibly powerful.

The shame. Why is there shame. Why did you make this. How is this even possible.

When you hesitate to write something, what reminder can you give yourself to be as completely honest as you can, both factually and emotionally?

“I have nothing to compare myself to”. And “what are you waiting for, a bus?”

What, if anything, about sex distresses you?

I worry about getting pregnant, and I’ve always known that this is why I’m so bored with regular old penetrative sex, and why I feel genuinely repulsed by the affluence of it in fanfic: it’s the weirdest thing to me, it’s like everyone has baby fever, whereas I don’t want children. Plus, I’m just genuinely grossed out by the thought of being filled with cum.

My poor stomach has been through a lot, too: I worry about having to run to the bathroom because my own erotic tendencies are sending my digestive system into overdrive.

The pervasive feeling that i’ll never have it, either. I’m a virgin at 30. Most 30 year olds have had it several times, i’m lucky to have some rando on the street even look at me.

What change would you like to make in your sexual behavior?

Confidence.

What change would you like to make in your sexual attitudes or thoughts?

I wish I could be more open with them and not feel like they’re weird or gross.

What change would you like to make in your sexual emotions or feelings?

Same story there. I don’t want pain, either.

What memories came to mind from the previous questions?

Let’s see… my crying to my dad about feeling lost after I moved back to California and him being incredibly insensitive and telling me to “exude confidence” and accusing me of being an alcoholic (when I can easily tell you that I’m not) rather than be a shoulder to cry on, listen to me and give me space and tell me I’m not wrong for feeling this way. You know. Be a man and comfort the most important woman in your life.

All the times I was asked “why do you do this?” and I’d give a legit answer and then they would respond with unsolicited advice or opinions.

The phrase “raunchy side” *shudders* and feeling incredibly powerless in her wake.

This isn’t sexual, but one time, I cried in front of my paternal grandmother and she rolled her eyes at me. That side of the family just never cared about me.

All the times I showed any emotion and no one knew how to react… or worse, they wouldn’t leave me alone to the point of harassing me.

Nothing good or happy.

What do you like most about your current partner? Least?

I’m a virgin. Also, HEY. CAN WE PLEASE STOP USING THE WORD “PARTNER”I AM GENUINELY TRIGGERED BY THIS WORD.

Make three (or more) sexual wishes. Don't hold back!

I wish I could talk about this freely. I wish I was hot. I wish I was accepted. I wish I belonged. I wish I didn’t have to worry. I wish I couldn’t feel hysterical laughter whenever I say I’m a virgin.

Make a list of your sexual partners and write a few phrases to describe the relationship. What patterns do you see?

After years of research, I finally came to the perfect scientific conclusion: I’m a fucking virgin.

If you have a sexual partner now, write about this relationship. What works for you in this sexual relationship? What would you like to change?

Boy, you know, my hand not only does things to my clit and tits, but it can also become a fist to break the face of whoever implores the regular use of a clinical, completely loveless and soulless word like “partner”.

Describe what your ideal sexual relationship would look like today.

I’d say maybe something with polyamory given I’m polyamorous, but that’s about where it starts and ends, though. I don’t know what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like (I know what an unhealthy relationship looks like, so I guess … healthy is just the opposite? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.)

If you have been sexually dissatisfied, what has kept you in the relationship?

Doesn’t apply. I’m embarrassed.

Are you able to ask your partner for what you want sexually? How do you do that?

The two times I have ever been out on a date, plus the time I cybered, I had the absolute worst time telling them about what I wanted, mainly because I couldn’t. The dates were first dates: even I can tell you that you don’t reveal too much too soon because that can push them away. It wasn’t like I could tell them anyway. But the second date, i.e., the time I was fixed up, I could feel that pressure, like… if this went past the first day, I would have to tell him. And I had no connection with him. He was more interested in socializing with my stepdad than getting to know me (and the second he walked through the front door, I thought, “nope, this is not going to be anything special.”) so I was literally bored and awkward sitting there next to him.

As for the time I cybered… I’m just going to assume that the first time is always awkward.

If you have difficulty asking for what you want, what are you telling yourself that makes asking difficult?

“Will they really know what I’m talking about?” and: “is this really what I want?”

What are your sexual limits with your partner?

I don’t want to be filled with cream. No, I’m completely turned off at the thought of being pregnant. I’m almost mortified by it, actually: use a condom or pull out, or let’s use our hands or mouths.

I like a little pain… not too much, though. I like little nibbles or scratches down the back, or spanking.

None of that “daddy” nonsense, either.

Don’t ever call me your “partner”, either, i fucking hate that word now. I want to know when it was normalized because it’s so sterile and cold and influencer-y. Call me that and I’ll straight up leave you.

What sexual behavior won't you do or would do only under certain conditions? Write about those to clarify your boundaries.

(see the tidbit with pain) Please don’t overdo it. My body is actually very sensitive and too much pain is too much.

As repulsed as I am by the idea of having penetrative sex, if there’s protection involved, I actually might reconsider.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD BE PATIENT WITH ME. I’M DUMB AND TRAUMATIZED, I DON’T KNOW WHAT I AM DOING.

I don’t like it too rough: I’m slow and sensual for the most part, but a little quickness goes a long way if I think about it.

In what way might your relationship with your partner deepen or improve by talking openly about sex?

Hang-ups about… noonewantingtobeinarelationshipwithme aside, I really feel like an open conversation could help a relationship. For me, it’s a “make or break” type thing: if they aren’t comfortable with it, they probably aren’t for you. If they’re curious, but they’re like me and they aren’t comfortable at all with this stuff or they’re not sure or comfortable (to the point they hate) their sexuality, make them feel safe. Put your arm around them and help them because it’s very daunting, especially when you see they’re alone because everyone is either disrespectful and patronizing or “too busy”. Make it make sense for them.

Can you recall your first discovery of sexual fantasy? What was it about?

All I know is I was very young and I didn’t understand what was happening, either.

Write out three of your favorite sexual fantasies. If this is new to you, make one up now.

Yuck fou. Yuck fou again. Yuck fou some more.

How have you used your sexual fantasies up until now?

Haven’t. Can’t.

What began as a fantasy that you later took into action?

The time I told Alex I’m in love with his voice. It was way before I wrote voice kink one shot in eclipse, too. That one in particular was so much fun to write—kind of tricky, but fun, though.

What sexual fantasies work the best to arouse you?

I was pretty aroused writing Chave do Mar: Alex as a merman with a long shark tail, smooth milky skin, and black curls tousled over his shoulder. Same with Blood & Chocolate, too: Alex being over fed and it shows up on his body. The Black Orchid scenes from now it’s dark were pretty hot, too, when I think back to writing them: Joey surrounded by burlesque strippers.

Have you shared your sexual fantasies with a friend? What was the reaction?

…it’s pretty across the board.

Have you shared your sexual fantasies with a lover? What was the reaction?

I don’t know if I could be courageous enough to do that.

How important is it for you to share your sexual fantasies? What are your reasons for sharing or not? Does sharing fantasies break their "spell"?

You know that fanfic meme that talks about writing your dream fanfic filled with all your fantasies and dreams but choosing not to and keeping it locked away in your mind because you want it to yourself? Yeah, I don’t relate to that at all. I write them out because I want to make sense of them for the most part. I honestly don’t care if no one sees them, either, because I’ve never really seen my fantasies as all that mystifying: just these weird little scenes that roll around inside me and whether they face the light of day is up to me. I don’t write them out to arouse me, either: just to make sense of them. I literally don’t care, they’re stupid and pointless and painfully unsexy.

What, if anything, do you find distressing about your sexual thoughts or fantasies? Write about that to clarify it for yourself.

I don’t think they’re special or gossip-worthy or revolutionary or life-changing. They just… are what they are.

I think the one thing that’s distressing about them is how they almost always have an element of science fiction to them: I live in an imaginary world and to bring these out would defy the laws of science. They’re just not physically possible.

If you could say three things to the world about the nature of your personal sexuality and really be heard, understood, and accepted, what would you say?

I’m queer, plus I’m pansexual and polyamorous. Get used to it.

Please respect my boundaries and my choices. I don’t wear makeup because I just don’t want to, I didn’t ask for you to goad me into it because you think I’ll look prettier. I don’t wear dresses because I just don’t want to, I didn’t ask for you to tell me I look prettier when I wear one.

Make me feel safe and comfortable because… I never have felt safe to express this part of me. I have always felt judged, looked down upon, and made to feel small. We’re supposedly all about supporting women and their agency, demands, desires, et cetera… stop picking and choosing. What turns me on and what I find sexy is going to be radically different to what you find sexy and this does not give you the right to laugh at me or call it “cute” when I don’t intend it to be.

When was the first time you experienced feelings of arousal and what triggered those feelings? What did you think of it at the time? What was your emotional response to those feelings?

Like I said, I was very small. May have been from me sitting in front of the mirror and touching myself, I have no clue. I didn’t understand what was happening, either, or why the adults in the room freaked the fuck out over it, either.

The first time I wore a shirt that showed off my belly is another one: I was like four or five, and it felt right to me.

Describe your first sexual encounter. How old were you? Was it consensual? If not, what resources have you used to help heal from that encounter? If it was consensual, what did that experience mean to you at the time?

So, I’ve talked about this, how it was cybersex that started life as a tangent during a serious conversation in the wake of tragedy, and—it almost didn’t mean anything to me at the time, especially since it quite literally started as a joke to lighten the mood a bit. Almost, anyway: I didn’t see it as this huge deal like, “oh my gorsh, I just had cybersex!!” But at the same time, I’m always hesitant to talk about it because it hinges on something bad happening (Dan Wheldon was killed and the boy I talked to saw him as his hero, and I talked with him for hours, and it went the way it did). This is something that’s showed up in a number of my fanfics, and it has gotten me called disgusting, too.

Who was your first romantic, sexual partner? What about him or her appealed most to you? What did you hope would happen with that relationship?

I wish I could answer this. Aside from the above, I’ve never had a boyfriend. Almost 30 years old and I have never even been kissed. I’ll admit it, it’s pathetic. I got sick and tired of hearing “oh, you’ll find love some day” when I was 17, and now I know in my heart it won’t ever happen. Really, I could have confidence through the fucking roof and no one will want any of this. Whoever said “everyone has sex” has obviously never met me. It’s so exploitative, too: this unfair assumption that way too many people have had about me and it only makes me hate myself. (Why is that always the response to someone saying they’re single, too? It’s like, i’m just stating a fact, I didn’t ask for you to be fortune teller.)

Do you believe that sex and emotional intimacy are linked, or is it possible to have a sexual relationship without emotional attachment? What experiences influence your answer?

Linked but not exclusive, though. Casual sex is a thing, plus you can be emotionally attached but not want it; don’t believe everything you see on Twitter (especially now fucking hell). Just… my own observations about this.

If you could have the perfect sex life right now, what would that look like?

Something that lets me go about with my polyamory, I guess? I’m able to be with a man and a woman, or two men and a woman. (I’m just pulling stuff out of my ass here, tbh).

How do you define “awesome” sex (i.e. what makes sex better than good)?

Give me everything I want and maybe something the other person likes, like we’re all pleased—notice I said “all” and not just “both”.

How do you feel about PDA? (You can take this as far as “kinks in public,” too.)

Can’t stand it. Can’t stand seeing it, can’t stand the thought of it happening to me (insecurity and hang-ups might have something to do with that when I think about it), some things are just better left in private. As for kinks in public, though? I don’t know, that seems a bit much.

What do you think about when you masturbate?

Last time I did, I didn’t think about anything other than if I was doing it right.

What are your sure-fire turn-ons (and/or turn-offs)?

Turn-ons: touches on my head (you know when you get a haircut and they wash your hair really well beforehand? No joke, that genuinely arouses me). Touches on my breasts, especially my dark-ass nipples. Touches on my belly, especially around my belly button because it’s technically scar tissue. Fingers on my lips—not sure about tongues, though. Touches on my thighs and my knees (yes). Touches on my ankles. I like soft touch. I like being held. I like fantasy. I like intelligence. I like sweetness. I’m all about feeling and being close.

What are your thoughts about porn?

I still don’t see it as exploitative. One complaint I do have with it is unrealistic expectations. No guy is like that. No girl is like that.

What are your thoughts on foreplay? Favorite types? Best experiences? Wishes?

It’s so underrated. A few kisses or hickeys on a sensitive spot like on the neck or the belly, or fingers on the labia and lips on the thighs can take you a long way, and I can say that just from my own writing.

What parts of your lover’s body are you most drawn to? (If you don’t currently have a lover, feel free to consider past or future lovers.)

“Lover” is another pathetically overused word. My eyes have always wandered to the middle of the body, their belly their hips and their thighs. I like it when it’s nice and slender, like I want to put arms around them there and feel them up, and of course, I like it when it’s a little full and round there (like a nice chubby little belly but he’s healthy as a horse). I like a little chub, and I think some people just look a lot better with it: it makes me want to touch and feel, and they look kind of… I want to say “juicy”. Looking nice and tasty—

If you were to “recreate” the early days of your favorite sexy relationship, what would they look like? Would you change anything?

It’s weird to think that I can actually answer this: I don’t think I would change anything. Maybe I could have been a little more upfront with him about how I feel about him earlier on because I just think about that one night in March-ish 2021, but there was a point to that, though. I wanted to ease into it, and there had to be some sort of opportunity to find with him because I see people hitting on him all the time, and I always think I’m being inappropriate with him, oh my god 🫣. 

The beauty of it being online is it’s kind of the whole entire point to it. 

Really, if Alex and I take it offline, we lose the clandestine nature of watching each other on stories or him fanboying over me like he’s a teenage kid again. Although I will say this: if it’s taken offline, given I’m a cuddler and very touchy-feely and sensual… I don’t know about him, but…

What do you want more of in your sex life?

A sex life? But, you know, now that I write this out, like really write it out over and over and over again and not really come up with anything better, i feel bored by the whole sex thing. I have a crazy amount of shame that ruminating on it makes me physically sick, and I feel stuck inside of it, like I can’t get rid of it.  I feel like I’m boring and underwhelming, like you would think that someone who identifies as pansexual and polyamorous and has a high sex drive would have at least one conquest but… I’ve just never been respected or built up or even seen. Plus, there’s this whole thing about how women are not supposed to chase, either.

Would you ever visit a sex therapist? What would be the reason and what do you think their advice would be for you?

I’m on the fence. No, because my only real problem is the feeling of safety and wanting to be comfortable. And yes because sometimes a second opinion can help.

Is there anything about sex that embarrasses you, causes shame or fear, or makes you nervous? Or…what’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you during sex?

My fear of pregnancy plus I worry about shitting myself.

Just the act itself. I literally can’t imagine anyone being that crazy about me, like I am not beautiful, I am not sexy… and I hate the expectation that comes with those words, like “you’re a woman! Be beautiful and sexy 24/7!” Fuck off. I could go away right now and no one would care or wonder what it would have been like to make love to me or toss a dick in me.

That first time you’re naked in front of them strikes me as nerve-racking, too, like that’s the moment of truth right there: when they see you naked the first time.

What do you tend to fantasize or dream about when it comes to sex? What kinds of porn or kink are you drawn to?

My fantasies are very sensual, almost artsy. There’s a lot of emotion involved, too, even if it’s casual, I still imagine so much emotion in there.

If you were to create a sexy playlist intended for a hot date at home, what would be on it?

So I tried this out yesterday and I got distracted by Queens of the Stone Age’s new album. I have never made a sexy playlist before so I wouldn’t know where to start.

What are your love languages and how do they apply to your sexual needs? What about your lover?

30% physical touch, 27% quality time, 20% words of affirmation, 13% gift giving, 10% acts of service (may have changed a little since I checked that but it sounds about right).

I want touch and time but no one is touching or spending time with me. My needs are a joke.

How do you feel about being naked?

No opinion. It just … is what it is. I don’t fixate on flaws (I never could, either, even with my troubled relationship with myself), nor do I see it as a beautiful thing: it just it what it is. I take care of myself but that’s about it. What do you do with it. Why is this controversial. 

Now, when I think about being naked with someone else, look the other way.

What’s your favorite way to be seduced?

You put your guitar on your lap, you brush your hair really nice, you have this little twinkle in your eye like you’re up to no good or you’re secretly going commando out of camera, you have a glass of wine in hand, and you talk in a very soft, husky voice when I ask you about your underwear.

Do you have any trust issues surrounding sex or your sexual relationship(s)?

A feeling of safety is a running theme here. I want to feel safe and comfortable… and I never have felt safe enough to even so much as look at a guy or a girl.

What do you look like, and sound like, when sex feels good for you?

Whenever I write something erotic, every so often I have to stop myself and close my eyes because I feel things moving. I get really quiet (everyone talks about screaming during sex: I’m the exact opposite, I get really quiet) and my hands start itching for the feeling. I bite my lip a lot, too—sometimes I do that without even thinking, like it just happens. It’s a long slow burn with me. And yes: I feel guilty afterwards.

What is the most sexually daring thing you’ve ever done?

Flirted with Alex on stories. I’ve always sucked at flirting (I once went for five years without flirting with anyone because I suck so hard at it), let alone with a guy like him. I love calling him “baby” especially, because he’s sweet and precious like a little baby boy.

Flirted with Eric on stories (I called him “big guy”) and got him to take a selfie from the toilet. Wish I was making that up.

I asked “are we going to see a Jeff Becerra OnlyFans any time soon?” and mf literally replied with “only if the price is right” and the eggplant emoji.

Any time I post risqué art on instagram because they’re complete pricks with that sort of thing.

When now it’s dark was being written and I posted those ink drawings on instagram (completely oblivious to the fact Joey was watching me).

There was also one time in school one of my friends had his pants hanging down a bit and I tried to pants him and he caught me. I did get to pinch his butt when no one was looking, though.

In your opinion, what does it mean to be good in bed?

When everyone is pleased and had their kinks out in the open. I think.

Have you ever had sex in a public place?

Sarcasm aside, why would I do this?

When and how did you lose your virginity, and how did you feel about it? How do you feel about it now?

I’ll probably die a virgin. 

Have you ever had sex with more than one person at a time, watched others have sex, been watched? If not, would you?

I’m polyamorous so I’d definitely try it. As for voyeurism… maybe I’d like to be watched? Don’t know about watching others, though.

How often do you masturbate and what works best for you?

I go for long stretches of time without doing it, because I get bored with it. I’ve done it sitting down, standing up, on my back, stooped over, topless, with my pants on, in the shower, in bed… all with my fingers. Toys are one of my biggest hang ups: I used a vibrator one time and I threw it away immediately because it made me uncomfortable. At least with my fingers, I know where it’s coming from. But toys? I don’t know, I’m not really excited by the thought of sticking a piece of silicone or glass or plastic up a very delicate part of my body. I’ve thought about it, for sure, because I’ve changed since that first time.

Maybe I’m just not trying enough, but I look at some on lingerie sites like Spencer’s or wherever, and I shake my head in disgust.

“Find one that’s best for you”, they tell me. Yeah, but nothing here is jumping out at me. 

What are you most grateful or thankful for in your sex life?

Can’t say that I’m grateful at all. I’m all about finding joy and pleasure, and I have never found it here. Oh, yeah, i’m totally grateful for something that brings me so much shame that it makes my chest hurt and makes it hard to even get out of bed some days. Oh, yeah, totally grateful for the judgements, the dirty looks, the snickers, the condescension, the guilt, the horrible feelings where there should be pleasure and confidence, what have you.

What is your favorite sexual position, and why?

Officially don’t know anymore.

Have you ever had an “inappropriate” crush? What was it about that person that drew you in, and what made it “not okay”?

All my crushes have been inappropriate lol

They all have been either older, or unavailable in some way like already taken or not interested.

I was never drawn to people at my school, so I looked beyond the borders: older people fit that bill for me.

Have you (or would you) ever tried role play? What roles are you drawn to?

I like fantasy and scifi characters (see my merfolk and vampire kinks; aliens and robots, too), and—you can blame you-know-who for this, too—I like the “sexy nerd” trope, too (the hot librarian or the hot scientist or the hot professor).

Are you more dominant or submissive (or a bit of both)?

I’d say “domme” but I’m definitely both. Yes, even with as much as I hate the female role and find it restrictive, there’s a sub in me.

How do you feel about your own body?

My hair, though very long, down to the halfway point of my thighs, is very thin at the crown of my head. I’m starting to grow out my bangs and I’m starting to get this Winona Ryder c. Beetlejuice look now.

I have a large head. A round face. Sharp eyebrows akin to Madonna or Zendaya’s eyebrows. A small nose. Brown eyes and coarse, wiry dark hair with blonde streaks and a reddish sheen. A thick bull neck and a slight double under my rounded chin. I get this weird growth of hair under my chin—weird because it’s like a Fu Manchu sort of thing in that it grows in two patches. Yeah, under my chin, too, so it’s a bitch to pluck.

Broad shoulders with soft collar bones. Lanky arms with slightly warped forearms—first time i gave blood, the nurse had to stick the needle in almost over the joint rather than in the pivot of my elbow; “knock-elbowed” as my mom calls it. Chubby little hands that are almost like paws. Soft skin but I can’t picture anyone wanting to touch it, though.

40ddd chest. A belly covered in stretch marks and was round even when I was thin: it’s even fuller and rounder now. Wide hips and thick thighs—my whole body is thick, though, my measurements are (get ready to faint) 54-43-57. I gain weight easily, almost way too easily—now you know the source of my anorexia and extreme angst.

My lips are small. And plain. Like any man’s dick is going to be a good fit.

I got fat knees. My lower legs are nothing to write home about, neither are my ankles. Slender, bony feet with toes that look like they just came off someone else’s feet.

This body is… I don’t know. Parents called me beautiful but if my piss-poor track record with my peers and crushes and this whole thing here is anything to go by… it should be clear that I have trouble seeing this myself. I only started actually getting hit on very recently, and looking at my appearance when I was a teenager, I did not look good at all. It makes sense that no one ever made a pass on me and I was the only one wearing green.

How sorry do you have to feel for a person having sex with you?

Kind of want to say “not at all”, really want to say “sorrier than sorry”, but I’m a virgin so I have no idea.

Could someone know you sexually, properly know you, and still like you?

If you know me sexually, would you be willing to like me?

[orangerosebush]

TRANSCRIPT OF FULL POEM, TO BE FOUND ARCHIVED ON THIS SITE, BELOW THE CUT:

I don’t really understand Judith Butler. I once tried to reference “Fucult” at a party to make myself sound smart and my friend politely corrected me and said it’s pronounced Foo-Coe. The only reason I have tried to read either of them is that my house-mates who went to college left their books at my house.

As a teenager, I sensed sexuality was a spectrum I didn’t have all the words for. In my twenties, I was called a slut for being attracted to so many points on the spectrum. For years, I operated under three beliefs, gifted to me by lovers:

1. I don’t get to be gay.

2. There is no such thing as bisexual.

3. I am the “straightest” woman on the planet.

I’m not sure I have listened to an entire Teagan and Sara song. I’ve only seen one season of the L-Word. I had sex with at least 3 women before I was able to call it “sex.” The only thing they teach you less about in school than how to make sense of your own body is how to support others in theirs. Something the poet, Tara Hardy taught me is called allyship. I first heard the term binding in an Andrea Gibson workshop on gender. When Rae talked about the difference in how he was treated when binding his chest. Rae dated my sister in the initial stages of his transition. My sister and I stumbled all over the pronouns and terms. We weren’t sure if Rae was a transexual girl or a transgender boy. Finally, the poet, Dane Kuttler, sat us down in an ice cream shop in Seattle and said,

“Babies. It’s time for Trans 101.”

That class cost me $4.50 and a half-hour of my friend’s patience. I first heard the word, cisgender when the poet, Sam Sax and his boyfriend, escorted me and my girlfriend, to the most famous lesbian bar in San Francisco and when we left he said, “Wow, they don’t usually like it when cis-dudes hang out in there.” I was embarrassed to ask what he meant but when he said that he identified with the gender assigned to him at birth, I felt a sudden wave of comfort wash over me, in the acknowledgment of my own privilege. $12 in whisky sodas and a loving bearded smirk.

Which led me to learn the term, passing privilege when I was dating a woman I worked with at the State Capitol and I was scared to kiss her in the hallway, with her short hair and fancy suit, until the poet, Denise Jolly, said, “Lauren, it’s not fair for you to let her take all the shit. Getting to conveniently be straight doesn’t help anyone.” $3 in cheesy grits and my friend gently and unapologetically telling me about myself.

Everything I know about being a good queer, I learned from poets. Poets are cheaper than college. But we do not all get to travel around the country and get schooled by poets. We do not all have access to the most helpful words. I was afraid to write this because I didn’t want to fuck it up. Writing poems about things you don’t know a lot about can be very problematic.

But not writing poems because you are afraid to fuck it up can also be problematic. The world is problematic. Please fuck it up.

This is for the first time I heard the term heteronormative and felt like I was handed a corkscrew after years of opening the bottle with my teeth.

This is for the dyke at the gas company who had no idea who Ani DiFranco was. This is for not identifying as bisexual but paying respects to everyone who fought to keep the B in LGBT. This is for the Q. For the Q. For the I. For the A. What’s that spell?, HEYYYY. I hope someday we string so many letters we form a glorious word that takes all of our mouths to pronounce. This is for my mom who can never get my love’s pronouns right. Who doesn’t get the gender stuff but bought me every Rita Mae Brown book so I could be “a good lesbian.”

This is for the friend who told me I needed to read Stone Butch Blues before they could have another conversation with me.

This is for learning how to carry the word Femme and then dropping the whole tray on the hard tile.

This is for trying on new words. Dusty attic words. Slick spoons words. Fuck-up-everyone’s-shit-and-look-good-doing-it-words.

This is for the straight girls who still have to get drunk to kiss other girls.

I get it.

Oppression is a loud room, sometimes we can’t hear our own pulse.

For my daughter who stood up to the kids who called her friend gay, “Mom, they said it like it was a bad thing.”

This is for my best friend in high school, Luther Pegues who was so convinced he was going to hell he fashioned his life into a loaded pistol.

Luther, if you are still alive, please find me. I wish I’d had all the smart words back then.

For my sister Kait, who bravely came out at 13 to my family who said, ‘Of course. We know. We are so glad you do too.”

This is for my radical homies, who learn everything from zines and free books at the infoshop.

For the suburban queerfolk who only have Tumblr to not feel alone in the world.

For every Jerre Fine joining the military to get to be gay. Learning all the gay music so he could have a code to speak in. For survival.

For all those who survived under DADT. For those who still wish they had it as a shield for protection.

For every Bethann sneaking each Wednesday to the bookstore in the next town to read everything in the two-foot LGBT section before going to her bible study. For the folks who can’t read but still subvert the dominant paradigm on the daily. And for Rae, who listened to the first draft of this poem and wanted to not have a problem with it because he wanted to make peace with his past life. Whose father called him on the phone today and said “You don’t come from a family of faggots.”

This is for all of us, scraping the binary from our softest parts. And being gentle with each other as we

fuck it all up. For the fancy educated Queer Theorists. Thank you.

Confessions of an Uneducated Queer- first draft, from the show I did at the Vancouver Poetry Slam. It is super rough but you know, that is sort of the point.