#but like. dude it is so fucking hard to do a smear with so little room to work with And only black and white

[boiledegghole]

for better or worse?

[inkskinned]

"it's so embarrassing you like that popular thing" "oh ew that geeky/strange thing is so cringe lol" "oh it's kind of weird you get excited about that harmless shit"

dude i love how ironic and jaded you are and that's so cool and sexy of you. and i am so so glad to tell you - you won!! we all had a meeting and we decided that you won, and we are writing your name on the inside of a burger king crown. the marker smeared, sorry, but we knew any form of real effort is ugly to you. but anyway. congrats! you are officially the coolest, most ironic, most jaded person in-the-world-right-now. we would throw you a party but you would think it was totally boring - and besides, we're weird so we wouldn't have been coming. we would have brought our love of beetles and of baking and of little canapes. we would have brought our artsy videogames and pages of writing. we would have written a poem with you, our hands covered in ink, and spread out a canvas to dance on, the night so lurid and pink.

but do not worry. we will not throw the party. we will just get you a ringlight and that crown i mentioned. it is a nice crown, except for where one of us dropped it.

the vote was a really hard one because we had so many cool ironic people to pick off the shelves. all of you have hands that rot fruit, how strange is that - you can't look at something without destroying it for other people. you like it when you can squeeze a person into a pinpoint - all us small ones scampering our little feet around our ugly joys. the vote was also a hard one because we kept our voices down because you don't like it when we talk too loud. you were on your phone at the time, talking to people other than us. you are a ghoul of every moment - half in, half out, you resent us for being here without shame or embarrassment.

so good news! we have invented an island for people like you. you get to go there and speak into the air things like if you still like watching harmless twitch streamers in 2023 you're fucking boring. you will say things like liveplay podcasts are fucking ugly and it's kind of awkward they try to make everything gay. on the island we made you, all of your words will have weight. they will form in the air like icicles, large white behemoth letters that will crumple in anvils around your feet. maybe we will send someone there once in a while to sweep, but honestly you might be there for a while, alone, waiting. we are busy being outside looking for mushrooms and flapping our hands and humming. we are busy kicking our little heels while we watch cringey tv. we are busy - sorry! as an apology, we have pre-filled the island with every bland, mediocre, unscented thing we could find. the island has the texture of american cheese. the island has an ocean that never gets angry. the island is perfect for you, trust me. you will be so happy there - as happy as you can be, ironically.

we want to say we are sorry for doing harmless things that you find annoying, childish, or unappealing - but we are not sorry. we thought we could help you, because we don't mind laughing at ourselves, but it turns out you are allergic to color and noise and atmosphere, so this is the best that we can do for now. we are all making a big shirt that says i voted in the ironic monarchy. we got you one that is just a fast fashion buttondown. i am so excited for you and this island and the big life you have won. you have a cool jaded grey life and miles of irony to roam. i love you! be well.

now leave us alone.

[msgexymunson]

One Slow Blink Part 1

Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give? 

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.

A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)

22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)

Masterlist Part 2

Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down. 

You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face. 

He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand. 

There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?

A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.

Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face. 

A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be. 

A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood. 

“Is he why-” 

“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!” 

“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-” 

“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly. 

Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.

“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-” 

Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing. 

“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!” 

“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?” 

Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances. 

“Alright, you better come with me.”

He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into. 

The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently. 

“He's through here.” 

You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life. 

“What… is that?” 

“That is Eddie.” 

There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it. 

Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.

“You said this is- this is Eddie??” 

“Listen, I know it's insane-” 

You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes. 

“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-” 

“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”

Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings. 

“Eddie.” 

You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle. 

“Eddie, I'm here to help you.” 

Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you. 

You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you. 

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!” 

The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy. 

Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm. 

“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?” 

A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes. 

“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?” 

His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now. 

“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?” 

He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens. 

“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?” 

He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again. 

“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.” 

Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands. 

“That was- how did you do that?” 

Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle. 

“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.” 

A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm. 

“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?” 

One slow blink. 

“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.” 

Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body. 

“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?” 

Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches. 

“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.” 

You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed. 

“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.” 

Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion. 

Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off. 

Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room. 

“I think he passed out.” 

“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.” 

“What do you mean you suppose?” 

“Steve!” 

“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.” 

He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint. 

“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.” 

Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts. 

“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-” 

“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to. 

“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.” 

As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.

“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.” 

You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.

“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?” 

“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.” 

“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.” 

“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.” 

“I got it.” 

Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket. 

“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?” 

“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.” 

He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly. 

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

You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness. 

You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved. 

With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep. 

Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip. 

Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it. 

Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package. 

The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view. 

You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out. 

He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything. 

By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen. 

“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?” 

“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up. 

“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-” 

“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.” 

Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently. 

“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?” 

“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.” 

Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else. 

“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.” 

“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down. 

“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.” 

You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye. 

“Eddie, how you feeling?” 

He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm. 

“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?” 

He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft. 

You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours. 

When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly. 

“You want some water?” 

He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face. 

“Oh you remember that?”

Another slow blink. 

“Good. Let me get you some water.” 

You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass. 

“Hey Munson, still alive then?” 

Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it. 

“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.” 

A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it. 

“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?” 

He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist. 

When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.

A word emerges. 

“...Thank.” 

It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word. 

“Eddie, you can talk?” 

Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw. 

“...harrrd.” 

He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.

“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?” 

He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm. 

“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?” 

He blinks once. 

“OK, does it hurt a lot?” 

Two slow blinks.  

Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them. 

“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.” 

Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes. 

“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.” 

He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress. 

He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently. 

“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.” 

He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes. 

“Yes, tail. Look.” 

His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing. 

“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall. 

“Woah, easy there, big guy.” 

You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway. 

“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.” 

He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you. 

“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.” 

Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded. 

“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.” 

Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath. 

“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.” 

You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him. 

You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.

“Eddie, what's wrong?” 

Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word. 

“Hurrrt.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?” 

Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes. 

“Eddie, I can't help if-” 

He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself. 

His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur. 

Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks. 

“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?” 

He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.

“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?” 

It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws. 

“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.

You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right? 

“D-do you want me to help?” 

His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you. 

Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch. 

You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.

You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again. 

A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding. 

A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it.” 

He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses. 

“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.” 

You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes. 

What in the absolute fuck was that? 

You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear. 

Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open. 

“You OK? Can I help?” 

“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”

“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?” 

“That would be great, thanks.” 

She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough. 

“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.” 

He snaps his head towards you, whining. 

“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.” 

He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name. 

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

You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that. 

With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him. 

It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed. 

Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone. 

As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open. 

“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.” 

Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm. 

“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.” 

“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?” 

“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.” 

A crash next door makes you all jump. 

“Are you gonna-” 

“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.” 

As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’

“Eddie.” 

It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft. 

Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes. 

The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go. 

“Eddie what the hell happened?” 

Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides. 

“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.” 

His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else. 

“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!” 

You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief. 

“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!” 

He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them. 

“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!” 

Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens. 

“AARRROOOOOOO!” 

It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound. 

“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls. 

“Are you OK, I heard- oh.” 

Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy. 

“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-” 

He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained. 

“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.” 

You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running. 

“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?” 

The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet. 

“-Orry.” 

“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret. 

“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door. 

“But we- what if he-” 

“Steve!” 

“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.” 

“We’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder. 

“We'll check on you tomorrow!”

“OK!” 

The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so. 

“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.” 

A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet. 

“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something…  is there a toolbox or…” 

Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file. 

“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.” 

He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady. 

You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad. 

“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.” 

A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything. 

“I brought some beers, you want one?” 

He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation. 

“See? That's great! You just need practice.” 

“Prrractice.” 

“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.” 

You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you. 

“What is it?” 

Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form. 

“-rreak.”

“Sorry, what?” 

“F-rreak.” 

“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”

He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern. 

“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”

Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out. 

“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.” 

You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed. 

When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him. 

“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?” 

He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket. 

Eddie appears in the doorway. 

“No.” 

“Huh?” 

You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom. 

“You, herrre.” 

He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up. 

“Wait!” 

As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence. 

“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-” 

Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently. 

“Herrre?” 

“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.” 

Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air. 

Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee. 

“Goodnight Eddie.”

“-Night.” 

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

When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday. 

The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth. 

Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan. 

“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?” 

He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you. 

“-orrning. Bet-terr.” 

“Are you making breakfast?” 

He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit. 

“Prractice.” 

You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie. 

“You need any help?” 

He shakes his head and gestures to the table. 

“Sit. Eat.” 

You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it. 

“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.” 

“You'rre -elcome.” 

“And you're speaking so well!” 

“Prrractice.” 

He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate. 

“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”

He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more. 

“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”

Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit. 

Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain. 

When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes. 

Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out. 

“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?” 

He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words. 

“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.” 

You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.

A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.

“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle. 

“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!” 

You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?” 

Eddie flashes his teeth. 

“Bet-terr.” 

“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?” 

“Sure did. Eddie made it.” 

“Really?” 

Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.” 

“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.” 

“I… can hel-p.” 

The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens. 

Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.

“Woah, don't think we need all-” 

Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once. 

“Ah. Right.” 

“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?” 

Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.” 

Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you. 

“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.” 

“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.” 

You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens. 

“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.” 

Eddie growls in his throat. 

“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!” 

After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway. 

Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm. 

“You good?” 

You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you. 

“Yeah, of course, I'm great.” 

“Liarrr.” 

Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond. 

“You want me. You… want… this.” 

He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth. 

“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?” 

“Can scent.” 

“What?” 

Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts. 

“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!” 

Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine. 

He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation. 

“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.” 

“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-” 

“Want to.” 

He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink. 

Are you really gonna do this? 

Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose. 

“Could you… please?” 

Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands. 

You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver. 

Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you. 

Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach. 

Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over. 

Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder. 

You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face. 

He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks. 

“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.” 

Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you. 

He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did. 

As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck. 

“Wan’ kiss you.” 

You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast. 

You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words. 

For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into. 

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

“Eddie, come try this!” 

Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake. 

“Eddie?��� 

All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open. 

Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.

“Eddie?” 

Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you. 

“Wherre you find… the aprrron?” 

You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him. 

“Oh, it was in a drawer.” 

“Hot.” 

You giggle, cheeks flushing. 

“What you doing Eddie? Practising?” 

He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed. 

“Trrrying. Not good enough.” 

“Yet.” 

Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you. 

“Yet. What you calling forrr?” 

He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.

“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin. 

“Well, I was asking you to try this.” 

You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh. 

“Don't… do…” 

“What, don't do this?” 

You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout. 

“What you gonna do about it, huh?” 

He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown. 

“One… two… thrrree…” 

“Oh, it's like that is it?” 

“...fourrr… five…” 

You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past. 

Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall. 

There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists. 

Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest. 

He makes a face, scrunching his snout. 

“That bad?” 

“I know… what rrrather eat.” 

Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face. 

“You like this.” 

“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over. 

“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose. 

He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip. 

A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…

Then the front door flies open. 

“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!” 

Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow. 

“Steve, I don't think-” 

“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps. 

“What- what's going on!” 

Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child. 

“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-” 

His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch. 

“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-” 

He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.

“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.” 

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-” 

“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”

Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it. 

“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!” 

Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas. 

After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first. 

Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie. 

“I'm sorry about him.” 

Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch. 

“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.” 

You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile. 

“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?” 

Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks. 

“Eddie?” 

He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders. 

“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.” 

An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.

“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.” 

Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath. 

So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else. 

“Seems I won.” 

His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion. 

“Our little chase?”

You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind. 

“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.” 

Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting. 

“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?” 

Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek. 

“Don't count… Caught you.” 

“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?” 

Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips. 

It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass. 

When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged. 

“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.” 

“Interrrrup-ted.”

“Huh?” 

You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back. 

“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.” 

“Ah, I see. So what do you-” 

“One. Two… thrrree…” 

This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed. 

It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room. 

He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space. 

The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head. 

The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench. 

“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…” 

His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.

You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. 

He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.

“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?” 

He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below. 

In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically. 

“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…” He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl. 

“I can smell yourrr cunt.” 

You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.

Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.

Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.  

“Eddie, Eddie please.” 

Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple. 

You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex. 

Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning. 

“Fuck, that- that feels so good!” 

Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger. 

He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting. 

“Eddie, too much, please-” 

He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside. 

“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.” 

You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.

“See… goood girrrrl.” 

You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base. 

“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.” 

Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling. 

You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be. 

No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans. 

Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort. 

Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other. 

His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.

A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear. 

“Mine.”

Part 2

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[ziggyzolch]

Queen Bee-atch Ⅳ (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing, attempted assault

✮✮✮

Grass tickles your bare feet as you run around the field, picking pretty flowers and humming random tunes. Falling to the ground, you stare up at the sky. You turn your head to the sound of little footsteps approaching. A little kitten appears next to you on the ground and paws at your cheek, pressing harder and harder with each poke. How can something so tiny press so hard? The kitten opens its mouth, but instead of a meow, it lets out a, "Dude, wake up!"

You jump up in your bed, falling off and landing on your ass. Two voices laughing at you catch your attention. You look up and find Janis and Damien laughing their asses off, Cady standing behind them with her hands joined at her front, smiling. "What the hell, guys!" You stand up, rubbing your palm into your eyes, "What're you guys doing here?"

Janis adjusts your blanket as she takes a seat on your bed, "Cady told us what happened, we came to check on you." She says while pulling you down to sit next to her. "It's nothing, seriously." You roll your eyes at her. Cady joins in, "Look, there's a Halloween party tonight, you should come with!" Your groan is interrupted by Damien, "Girl, you look horrible. It'd be good for you to go out and get your mind off of things. If anything happens, me and Janis are waiting for you at her house."

Never in a million years would you be caught dead at a high school house party, but you don't think they're going to take no for an answer. "You need a distraction, some fun! You do know what fun is, right?" You shove her lightly with a smile on your face. Cady celebrates at your reluctant nod, "It'll be so fun!"

✮✮✮

Spoiler alert, it was not fun. The crowding and loud sounds were starting to become overstimulating, and Cady had ditched you to look for Aaron the second you reached. You were clad in a short black dress with fake blood smeared on the bottom half of your face. In the 15 minutes since you reached, you've been pushed, cursed at, and almost thrown up on. You were now leaning against the kitchen counter, nursing your 5th cup of mystery alcohol. There was no way you'd stay sober at a party like this. You thank whatever god is out there that your tolerance was low. The familiar buzz had made itself known 4 drinks ago, and you were now borderline drunk, watching Shane Oman approaching you.

Regina had been watching you take shot after shot from the other side of the room. Her plan was to drag Aaron away from Cady and guilt-trip him into getting back with her, but she couldn't bring herself to take her eyes off of you. The memory of you running out of her room crying was still fresh in her mind. God! Why is she being like this? Who even invited you!? Pushing you to the back of her mind, she stomps towards Aaron, dragging him away with the intention of carrying out her plan, when she notices Oman attempting to get with you.

You were frozen up, your feeble attempts to push him away weren't working. "Come on, you want this. Think of this as your apology for being an ungrateful bitch-" A punch lands on his jaw before he could continue. Using all your strength, you lift your head up and see a familiar senior readjusting his stance. "Thank you, Aaron, I'll take it from here," Regina smiles gratefully at him as he drags a barely conscious Shane out of the party.

Her attempts to wrap your shoulder around her were stopped by you weakly shoving her away. "F-fuck you, b-bitch," You slur out while swaying on your feet. Regina sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Do you have a ride? Do you know how you're getting back home?" You squint your eyes at her, about to reply, when you fall into her arms, mumbling incoherent insults. "That's what I thought." She grunts, placing her hands under your armpits and lifting you upright. "I'm good, I'm good-" Regina's eyes widen as you turn, throw up, then fall to the ground. "Gross, gross, gross, gross..." Regina gags as she picks you up from where you were lying in your own vomit.

"Move!" Regina bumps into Cady on her way to the front door, ignoring her calling after her.

"Hey! What the hell happened?" Cady yells over the loud music.

"Maybe you'd know if you didn't ditch her for a boy!" Regina snaps, adjusting her hold on you.

"Oh fuck you! I saw you about to chat it up with Aaron, and she was fine by herself!"

"No she wasn't! She's like an antisocial puppy, why would she be fine at a party?"

A groan coming from you stops Cady from retorting.

Sighing, she looks at Aaron then back to Regina, "Now's not the time. Please take her back to yours. I'll call her mother and tell her she'll be staying at mine."

As much as Regina wanted to argue that Cady brought you here, so she should be taking care of you, she takes a deep breath and walks away, shoulder bumping Cady for good measure. Being the bigger person really suits her.

✮✮✮

You were being insufferable. Throughout the whole car ride back to her house, you kept making lame angel jokes, which she assumed were meant to be insulting. She was now wrestling you into her bathroom.  Your whine bounces around the bathroom walls as Regina finally manages to place you on the edge of her bathtub. "Sit still and lift your arms up, puppy" Regina doesn't let her eyes linger on your body as she peals your dress off of you. 

After pointing out where the body wash and shampoo was and making sure you were good to wash up on your own, she exits the bathroom and takes out clothes for both of you. She rushes into the bathroom after hearing you call out her name. "I'm done" you say, avoiding eye contact.  The shower had sobered you up enough to feel embarrassed about how you were acting.  She smirks at your sudden shyness.

After handing you a towel and waiting for you to cover up, she leads you to her bed. "I'll be back, okay? Gotta wash your vomit off of me." She laughs at your glare and walks away.

✮✮✮

It's been 10 minutes since you woke up and you haven't moved from your spot, staring at the ceiling, mortified. God! You can't face Regina after yesterday. Sneaking out without letting her know was your only option. You put on the first pair of shoes you find as quietly as possible. 'I should become a spy' You thought immediately before bumping straight into her bedroom door.

 Regina jumps up, now awake, and finds you at her door rubbing your head. The second you notice that she's up, you move to open her door, but are stopped by her hand on your shoulder.

"How are you so fast-"

"You're leaving already?" Regina interrupts.

You roll your eyes, "What do you want, Regina?"

"Seriously? You're being a bitch after I took care of your drunk ass?"

You could feel heat creeping up your neck. "Sorry. Thank you, really, but I have to go."

"No, fuck! Can we please talk?"

You really didn't want to talk about her making fun of your weight after she saw you naked, but you knew she wouldn't stop, so you compromised, "Look, I am really busy this whole weekend. I give you full permission to drag me away if you find me at school, though."

 "Okay." She really wanted to talk to you now, but this was better than nothing. You bid her a goodbye, making sure to avoid her mother on the way out. You truly had no idea why she even cares about your opinion of her, but you figure she felt bad for you after realizing who you were and was trying to make up for it.

Moving to lay back down on her bed, her eyes widen in realization. She never gave you a change of clothes, and you were now unknowingly walking home in booty shorts with 'SLUT' plastered on the back.

✮✮✮

A/N : not proofread, so tired. sorry for any mistakes or awkward wording. thank you for reading!

[dreamofbecoming]

ok fuck it context now on ao3

—

“I’m freaking out, man!”

“You’re what? Why? This is like, what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, dude, but now it’s here, it’s happening, and tomorrow it’ll be done and I can’t take it back!”

“Do you want to take it back? Because I think that’s a terrible idea, but if it’s really what you want, I’ll sneak you out the back right now.”

Dustin deflates a little, slumping into the plush chair this weird little church greenroom was nice enough to provide. “No, I don’t want to leave. Of course I don’t.”

Steve puts his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, not massaging, just resting. He doesn’t want to smear too much of his scent onto him before the ceremony, but old habits die hard. Steve suspects he’s always going to want to scent the kids for comfort, even though they’re literally all grown and starting families of their own and don’t need their old omega babysitter anymore.

Case in point, Dustin’s wedding is meant to start in, oh, looks like about 25 minutes, so Steve has to smooth this crisis over double time.

“What’s really bothering you, Dust? You were over the moon yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since you and Susie proposed to each other. Hell, every day since you met! What’s going on now?”

There’s a pause, which is always unsettling coming from Dustin, who hasn’t shut up for more than twelve consecutive minutes in the decade plus Steve has known him, but then he sighs.

“She wants kids.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “And you…don’t?”

Dustin huffs, frustration rising in his scent. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t know if it’s a good idea, you know?”

“And you guys haven’t talked about this before now? You’ve been together for like eleven years, dude!”

“We have, of course we have! I’m just thinking about the risks, Steve! I’m a beta, I can’t carry her pups, and pregnancies are dicey for alpha females! What if something happens?”

“First of all don’t call women females, it’s weird. Erica or Nance will definitely smack you for that, and you don’t need a black eye in your wedding photos.” Dustin nods, cringing a little.

“Second, pregnancy isn’t the only option, man, and also it’s her decision. If she wants to carry them, that’s a discussion you need to have with her, but you can’t just shut her down about it. She knew you were a beta when she decided to marry you. She picked you because she loves you, don’t go deciding for her she’s better off with someone else. And besides, if you decide it doesn’t feel right for both of you, you can talk about adoption, or surrogacy, or…I don’t know what all the options are, but I bet there’s tons! Hell, I’d carry for you guys, if you wanted.”

“You would?” Dustin’s eyes get big and shiny almost immediately, and shit, Steve’s gotta shut this down now. The groom can’t be going out there with red eyes and tear stains, Susie will murder Steve on principle.

But he can’t lie to Dustin. Swore he never would, not when it mattered. “Course I would, man, what’s family for? Aw hell, kid, don’t cry, your mate will run me over with her car if your photos are fucked up because of me.”

“I just- I can’t believe you’d do that for me! You don’t even know if I’ll be any good at it!”

Ah, so that’s what this is really about.

“Of course you’ll be good at it, Henderson. You’d be an incredible dad, any kid would be lucky to have you. I mean, your kids are gonna turn out to be nerd city, but that was always a given.”

Dustin gives him a bitchy little eye roll, which was of course Steve’s aim. He still smells anxious, though.

“How can you be sure, though? It’s not like I have any idea what a dad is supposed to be like, you know? It’s why I kept latching onto older male figures, no offense to you and Eddie.”

Little shit. “You should be so lucky, you little twerp.”

Dustin shoves him away, but he’s grinning now, and his scent is slowly returning to the lemon-bright joy that colors it so often Steve just associates it with Dustin’s base scent at this point, so he’ll take the win.

“You really wanna know how I know you’ll make a great dad, Dustybun?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, today’s supposed to be my day!”

“I’m your best man, I’ll call you whatever I want. Seriously though, I have a story for you.”

“A story, huh? I don’t know, Eddie’s more the storyteller in your relationship…”

“I’m gonna go out there and tell your bride to delay the ceremony because you shat your slacks and need new ones, you menace.”

“Okay, okay!” Dustin laughs. “Tell your story.”

“I was gonna put this in my speech later, but I think you need to hear it now, and honestly it might be more about me than you, and I don’t want to steal the spotlight or anything.”

“Not worried about that, but I’m intrigued.”

“You know how when you’re a kid, you learn how to pick out emotion scents by context clues, from like your family and stuff?”

Dustin lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yes, Steve, I’m aware of one of the foundational tenets of our society, which we all personally experienced.”

“Almost fifteen years I’ve known you, and your attitude hasn’t improved one bit, you know that?”

Dustin waves imperiously for him to continue. Steve glares at him, but they really are running short on time.

“You ever know a kid who had like, a gap? Some feeling they had never run into before, so they didn’t know what the smell meant?” Dustin shakes his head, looking curious.

“There was this girl in my class when we were like, seven? Eight? Something like that. Anyway, she borrowed Tommy’s favorite eraser, one of those animal-shaped ones with the faces printed on? He loved that thing. The girl, Cassie, she broke it, by accident. Tommy lost his shit. I’d never seen him so angry. And like, you know how little kids emotions don’t really come through that strong? He smelled like, grown-up angry. Filled the whole room. Freaked the teacher out, too. Everyone’s backing the hell up out of Tommy’s way, even me. But Cassie was just confused. Because no adult in her life had ever been truly angry around her, so she hadn’t learned what it smelled like yet.”

Dustin is listening avidly, looking gratifyingly similar to how he does when Eddie DMs.

“Anyway, Tommy slapped her so hard it left a bruise, got his dumb ass suspended. But I just remember being so jealous, you know? Can you imagine? Eight years old and never knew what anger smelled like. Hell, at that point anger was just what home smelled like to me.”

Aw shit, now Dustin just smells sad.

“Do you remember when I drove you to the Snow Ball?”

Dustin’s got his thinking face on now, trying to figure out why Steve keeps jumping all over the place. Sue him, he’s no Eddie.

He nods anyway.

“Before you got out of the car, when I told you I’d come back to pick you up, you gave me this huge smile, and the car filled up with something I’d never smelled before. Not really, anyway. Maybe like, in passing, you know? Like in the hallway at school, but always faint and never towards me, so I never focused on it.”

Dustin’s eyebrows are totally scrunched up now, little genius brain whirring away. Goddamn brat never had any patience.

“I didn’t ask about it, because I wasn’t sure it was important, and also a little because I felt like enough of a caveman around you little rocket scientist dweebs I didn’t need you explaining feelings to me too, but I kept smelling it from you after that. And from El, and a little from Lucas and Max and even once from your mom, but it was just confusing, you know? I couldn’t figure out what was causing it, so I had no context clues to figure out what it meant.

“And then at Starcourt, after Robin and I went to go puke up those Russian drugs—”

“Ditched me and Erica who were very responsibly trying to wrangle you, you mean.”

“Tomato, tomahto, kid. Anyway, I told her I had a crush on her and she panicked and came out to me, so I switched to making fun of her crush so she would know I was okay with it, and suddenly there was that smell again. First time I ever smelled it coming from her. So after everything was done, I asked her.”

“Oh, so you’ll ask her, but not me? Hurtful, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, shithead, because Robbie already knew I was a moron, and she was never gonna want to go out with me, so I didn’t need to impress her. I could look stupid to Rob back then, but I still wanted you guys to think I was cool.”

“Steve, buddy, my brother, my best friend, my favorite jock please don’t tell Lucas I said that, we literally never thought you were cool.”

“Now who’s being hurtful?”

“Just the truth, Munson. I tell it like it is.”

“Ugh, whatever. The point is, I asked Bobbie what she felt for me in that bathroom, and she told me that’s when she realized she would love me forever. That we were going to be best friends.”

Dustin looks stricken.

“That’s what I was smelling all that time. Honey. That’s what I smelled in the car in the Hawkins Middle parking lot. You loved me. You were literally the first person in my whole life who ever did.”

“Steve—”

“This isn’t—look, I know it’s kind of sad and pathetic for kid Steve, but this isn’t about that. It’s not about me, okay? It��s about how my whole life turned around the day Dustin Henderson decided he loved me, because he never stopped. Not for a single second of the last thirteen years, and because you loved me then, I have a platonic soulmate and a horde of little siblings and a mate I adore and more friends than I can count on all my fingers and toes! You’re the one who encouraged me to go to cosmetology school, you’re the one who introduced me to Eddie, you’re the one who stood by me and let me crash on your mom’s couch when my parents kicked me out. My life is full of love, and joy, and purpose, and it all started with you, Dustin. I’m here because you loved me, and because once you started loving me you never stopped. I have smelled honey on you every single day since the 1984 Snow Ball, and that’s how I know you’ll be an incredible father. Because if you have all that love for a washed up ex-jock omega nobody had ever loved before? You’ll have all that and more times a million for any kid lucky enough to call you Dad.”

They’re both crying by now. Susie is gonna kill them for sure, but as Dustin buries himself in Steve’s arms like he’s still six inches shorter, Steve decides it doesn’t matter. This is worth it.

There’s a knock at the door, just in time it seems.

“Dingus, baby Dingus, you in there? T minus 5 minutes, boys, stick those feet in the oven if you gotta!”

“Yeah, Bobs, I hear you! We’ll be out in a sec, no cold feet in sight.”

“Roger that, bubba! I’ll inform the bride!” He can hear her racing off, probably dancing with pre-wedding excitement. For a cynical lesbian who has a new girlfriend every month and swears marriage is an archaic institution built on misogyny and omegaphobia, she sure does love weddings.

“You ready, kid?”

Dustin has taken the brief interlude as an opportunity to splash his face with water from the sink in the corner, so he doesn’t look like he’s been crying to into Steve’s shoulder, but Steve makes sure to straighten his tie and finger comb his curls back into place.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.” He looks at Steve for a long moment, then throws his arms around him one last time. “I’m really glad you’re my brother, Steve.”

Steve squeezes him tighter for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of lemon and cut grass and honey. Of family. Of love.

“Yeah, kid. Me too.”

[beamtori]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

implied fwb!ji changmin x afab!reader

1.9k words, smut (minors dni), piv sex, porn w/o plot, switch dynamics but changmin leans dom, so much dirty talk 💀, biting hard enough to draw blood, edging, kissing, swearing, overstimulation (f. receiving), fingering/cumplay, pet names (baby, sweetheart, hot stuff, good girl, etc.), aftercare is dinner lol, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it bro), low-key manhandling, it's kinda just... filth tbh (im on my period, sue me), CHANGMINS A LITTLE SHIT

a/n: this is the most self-insert i have ever self-inserted :l if it's awful, blame the brainrot!

"This has got to be a world record."

You rolled your eyes as you walked into his apartment, pointedly ignoring the smug smirk on his face and the arms exposed by sleeves rolled to his shoulders. "Do you want to get laid or not?"

Ji Changmin closed his front door, tongue poking his cheek, but it did nothing to conceal his smile. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "How many red lights did you run?"

Heat rose to your neck and you scowled. "I'm literally going to walk out the door right now."

"Try me, sweetheart."

So maybe you had dropped everything to get here when he sent you that blatantly obvious thirst trap photo, but you were thirsty; what could you say? It was a fucking shame he knew your weakness.

"Aww," he cooed, taking the few steps to meet you. He gently grabbed your chin in one hand and jutted his bottom lip outward. "Don't pout, baby. You know it'll only make me wanna kiss you."

You licked your bottom lip. "I get to draw blood, then we'll call it even."

There was a gleam in his eyes, the one that first got you addicted to falling into this man's bed. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

This was what you meant by drawing blood.

Changmin's moans filled the room, his breathless, desperate "ah, ah, ah"s would engrave themselves into your flesh like you nipped at the skin on his neck. You could taste the iron in your mouth, dark and sticky, red staining your teeth and your lips as you kissed and lapped at the wound. Each bite would bloom his favorite shade of purple by morning. Your forearms braced against the bed sheets on either side of his head, your knees growing sore from the steady rocking of your hips.

Flesh stuck to flesh, his hands grappled at your body to hold on for dear fucking life as you rode his cock and marked his pretty canvas of a body for your own. Sweat glistened, further highlighted by the warm glow of the lamp on the nightstand.

"Baby, baby, baby—" he babbled as his hand buried itself in your hair to pull you out from his neck, "—tight. Oh fucking hell, you're tight. C'mere."

He caught your kiss, his blood smearing across his own lips. You licked him clean as always, humming against him as he spoke through the earnestness.

You suddenly pulled away from him and braced your hands on his pecs. The view from this angle was enough to make you clench: Changmin splayed beneath you, lips and neck bruised appropriately, a dazed glaze over his dark eyes, sweat making his skin shine. "Oh, look at you," you purred, giving him an indulgent roll of your hips.

Changmin gritted his teeth, hand clutching your thigh and inching higher. "You don't move, sweetheart, and I'll move for you," he smiled thinly and backed his statement up with a firm spank of your ass.

You lurched forward in surprise; his chuckle filled the room.

"I have power, too, you know."

"Okay, hot stuff," you huffed, brushing your hair from your eyes. "You realize you could have flipped us over a long time ago, right?"

A smirk-like grin curled onto his lips, devilish and enough to make you squeeze around him again. "I know. But you looked like you were having fun up there, princess. Plus, your tits look so good like this."

You rolled your eyes. "You're such a dude."

"Yn, I sent you a thirst trap to get you into bed with me like, an hour ago; now you're calling me a dude?"

You sighed, sitting upright, warming his cock. "True."

"Baby. Sweetcheeks. Apple of my eye—"

"Hm?"

"As much as I love that you're just sitting on my cock like your throne," he drawled, "I wanna make you cum as many times as you ran red lights."

"I didn't run any red lights—"

You squealed, your world twisting and your back hitting the sheets. Changmin grinned from over you, one large hand palming your right boob.

You were breathless. He leaned down to devour your mouth. A trail of spit clung between your lips when he pulled away for a second. "So what you're saying is you want me to edge you?" He husked, tongue swiping along his bottom lip, his eyes shining with a dark glimmer.

Genuine fear spiked through your heart. "Ji Changmin, I swear to god—"

He gave one powerful thrust, and you clung onto him as your swear melted into a whine. "The government name? Only good girls get to cum, Yn-ie. Be a good girl, hm, and moan for me."

You dug your fingernails into his back as he drove his cock into you so hard you could see stars circling. He swallowed all of the pretty, desperate noises coming out of your mouth with his own. You arched your front into him, hips lifting slightly to meet him until his hip bone smashed against you.

"That's it," he grunted, kissing you as your high approached and his thumb grounded into your puffed up clit. "Take my cock so well; fuck—me—"

You were so close, and you nodded to what he said—nodded so desperately as you dragged your nails down his back and chased that high like a fucking dog—

Everything stopped.

"You want dinner?"

He was leaning over you to grab his phone off the nightstand, the light making the sweat dripping down his chest glisten like liquid pearl. His cock was still inside you, but you could feel the impending tightening of your orgasm slowly deflating.

Your blood pressure spiked. "What the fuck, Changmin?"

He tried to hide his smile. Tried. He sat over you as he opened a food delivery app and showed you the screen. "They've got that new Hawaiian restaurant and that fried chicken place you like."

"You are such an asshole." You draped your arm over your eyes, pussy clenching around him as if that alone could get you back to bliss.

You felt him shift, and then he was laughing fondly, removing the arm from over your eyes and pressing kisses to your face. "Aw, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know you were close; just wanted to tease you a little bit."

You glared. "You're fucking evil."

He grinned. "Clearly you like that." He kissed a trail from your nose down to your ear, murmuring, "Like calls to like."

You bit your lip and tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "Please, can I cum?" You didn't know where it came from, but you knew he wouldn't resist the pleading, because as he had said, like called to like.

A kiss right below your ear. "Well, aren't you sweet when you're desperate? Whatever you want, baby."

You sighed as he brought his lips back up to yours—thank fuck. One of his hands curled lightly around the side of your neck, the other wrapping around your right thigh to hike your leg up. His cock dragged through you at a slightly different angle, and you squirmed, hands clinging onto his shoulders and back.

"You wanna cum, baby? I'll give you what you want."

He groaned into your neck, teeth nipping at the skin there like he was grounding himself. Cock bullying into you, hand around your neck, the pressure so sweet and delicious. You were going start seeing things, your throat was losing breath as you begged for sweet, sweet fucking mercy.

Changmin suckled on the joint between neck and collarbone. "So good for me, huh?—dropped everything to see me—" He moaned into you, the sound urging you over the edge.

"Changmin," you cried out desperately. Closecloseclose, oh my god, you were close. "Changmin, baby, please. I'm so close—fuck."

Sweat dribbled down the slope of his nose as he hovered over you and continued to fuck you through until you were leaping over that cliff of pleasure—literally throwing yourself—thighs shaking in his grasp. You let out a loud whine when he didn't stop moving inside you; he was still rock hard and he locked your ankles at the base of his back to curve his cock up into you.

You clawed at him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

"My good girl can give me another, can't she?" His nose nudged against yours, a sharp contrast to the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your skin and the wet squelches of his thrusts. "Came all this way just for me…"

He brought his hand away from your neck to draw brutal circles around your clit, desperate to feel you clench around him again. His eyebrows creased, coaxing another orgasm out of you as he chased his own.

"Changmin," you stammered.

"Gonna come for me?"

"Yes," your breath came out in a delirious pant, pussy deliciously overstimulated. "Gonna come, gonna come, Changmin."

You were quivering around him again, incoherent thoughts half-babbled and half-moaned. The tension in your belly was mounting faster and faster now, and you could feel Changmin's thrusts getting sloppier. The tension snapped, and you drowned in it. You cried as you clung onto Changmin's form and he stilled, emptying out ropes of warm cum into you and making you squirm again.

As you both came down from your highs, he pressed his lips to the sides of your neck, eyes closed in a blissful daze. "Fuck, I owe you dinner for that. Shit."

You shifted uncomfortably as he slowly pulled out of you. "I did bite a chunk out of your neck," you exhaled. Both yours and his eyes wandered down to where your bodies met, your folds a mess of your combined fluids.

You saw him lick his lips, eyes glued to your cunt. "Earth to Changmin," you chuckled, poking his dimple.

His eyes shot to you for a moment before he was dipping his finger into the mess, swirling the cum around and pushing it back into you.

You mewled. "Dude," you shivered as the girth of his fingers filled you.

"You did not just call me dude when I'm pushing my cum back inside you," he grinned, crawling back over you and sealing off any chance at a response by kissing you. Your hips pushed into his hand, grinding against his finger. "Mmh, greedy."

You playfully pushed him off you. "Off, Changmin."

He laughed, but obliged, pulling away and helping you sit up. He took his cum-soaked finger and stuck it in his mouth to clean it. "Okay, but for real, do you want dinner?"

You grimaced as you moved yourself onto your knees to shuffle over to him and inspect the nasty little bite you left on him. "Dinner sounds good. Whatever you want." You frowned and gave the blooming bruise an experimental poke.

Changmin hissed low under his breath while he perused the delivery app on his phone. His hair stuck up in weird places and he ran a hand through it. "Whatever I want?"

"I did a number on you," you muttered. "Lemme clean it up so it doesn't get infected."

"It's all good, sweetheart; I got it. Just sit and rest." He shoved his phone into your lap and disappeared into the bathroom before you could object. You found a comfortable position against his headboard and decided on a place you knew the both of you would like.

From the bathroom, you could hear his whistle. "I'm almost sorry I have to cover this one up," he marveled, inspecting the bite mark. "If you hadn't drawn blood, I could leave it out for people to see."

Your heart leapt. "So people know you're sleeping with a vampire?" You joked half-heartedly.

"Well, sure," he mused. But he turned his head to send you a wink. "But also so people know I'm taken."

a/n: the ending is for ME, OKAY? :')))

tbz m.list

[fandomwritinga]

Bring more stuff abt Rihito/Lihito

I wanna see some headcannons of yours.

IM SOS SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG I WAS GRADUATING LOL

Anyways here are some random/general/nsfw headcanonc of lihito lol

- ok so there is so much about this man

- He is so big but such a baby

- So lets see what we are working with

- Dude has his own company (regardless of how he came to get it lol)

- He treats his co workers amazingly

- He treats his friends well

- So imagine what he would do if he had a partner?

- Man would do anything for you

- He also has big hands

- Which means he got a big dick-

- So

- He loves when you call him Lihito

- After all everybody calls him that

- But when u use his actual name? Man melts on the spot

- He doesnt know which one to prefer

- So u did a little experiment

- When you guys were going at it you called him his actual name for once

- He stopped

- Looked at you

- Kissed you on the nose

- And he broke the fucking bed

- Also i think he loves your nose

- Just in general like he just likes to kiss you there

- He deff has some weird sex toys

- I mean dude was single for a loooong time so he deff bought some weird shit off the internet

- But now he has you so he doesnt need it anymore…..or?

- Anyways you visit him when he is working and he is over the roof

- He is showing you every place every room like he hasnt done it every time you come there

- He just wants to show off for you

- You sucked his dick under his desk once

- He deff has a list of places where he wants you guys to do it

- When he fights?

- Wooohooooooooooo

- Bark BARK BARK

- Man is HOT

- Before his fight he wants to talk to you

- And only you

- He just wants to see his babe

- After the fight he wins? Be prepared for a pounding

- Of course only after a nice dinner and something romantic

- He is just a big softie

- Sure a bit perverted but still a softie

- Is this getting too long?

- In general he is romantic but not every day

- He will always tell you to have a good day and send you heart texts but he will forget an anniversary

- But he always makes it up to you

- Always

- Eats pussy and ass like a man starved

- Back to the lipstick stuff i said a while ago

- You bought some random lipstick and it was smearing everywhere

- He loved it on you, he loved the color on you, he loved you and he loved the print it left on his dick

- The print of your lips around his dick made him go crazy

- You once were kissing his dick and suddenly u got an urgent phone call

- You had to leave the room ;((

- You left the poor man all by himself

- But when he looked at his dick and saw the mark of your lips?

- He jerked off so hard in that moment

- He also steals ur panties

- For fun i guess

- He masturbates with them

- He got caught once but he didnt stop he just kept going at it while looking at you and saying how much he missed you

- Will kiss every part of your body

- He loves you so much

- He would do anything for you

[iheartjameshetfield]

dude idk if you got my first req bc the PAGE RELOADED BUT IM SENDING IT AGAIN JUST IN CASE.

giving virgin!james head for the first time!!! the noises he would make omg omg omg. and when you let him fuck your face?? he would be so fucking drunk on the feel of your mouth. squirming n moaning and oh oh oh maybe you are laying down and he straddles your face to have you suck him that way?!/?: i need him. bad.

i almost started crying when i saw this request bc hello virgin subby james is the love of my life <33

you wanted to suck him off so bad, which obviously made him very excited. but when you agreed for him to straddle your face when you suck him off??? fuck he could’ve busted his load right then and there.

this mf eagerly takes a seat on your face, carefully placing his knees at the side of your head. he would be a little awkward, not knowing what to do and scared of suffocating you from this position. this was his first blowjob, so you wanted to be mind blowing for him (literally mind blowing)

you start stroking his semi-hard dick, sticking your tongue out to repeatedly lick the tip, already causing him to shudder as you enjoy the feeling of him hardening even more under your touch. you take just the head in your mouth and you start bopping your head, your hand swirling around the base. when your mouth inches further down on him, james’ eyes widen, his dream finally coming true. you use your spit and precum as a lubricant to make it even more enjoyable for him, obsessing over how vocal he’s being

you take his whole dick in your mouth, your head lifting off the pillow as you try your best not to gag when you stay still, your nose touching the trail of hair on his stomach. james’ moans get louder at this action, so you decide to repeat it a couple more times, causing him to whine as he throws his head back.

you start to swirl your tongue around his head again before pulling away, placing kisses on his pretty dick while you stroke his base, giving it a squeeze here and there. you place your last kiss directly on his tip, smearing the precum with your lips and tongue before delving into him again.

his panting gets heavier and heavier and when he looks down, seeing your plush lips wrapped around his pretty cock, it sends him into a frenzy, whining and moaning while he tries to resist the urge to fuck your face.

“oh fuck you look so pretty.” his eyebrows fuse together longingly as he brings one hand down to stroke your cheek before bringing it to your head, gripping your hair. as much as he tried, he couldn’t. he couldn’t stop himself from sending a strong thrust into your mouth, causing you to gag. he stop immediately when you gag, afraid of hurting you but you pat his thigh as a sign of encouragement, wanting this to be the best first blowjob anyone can ever get.

“your mouth feels so good, holy shit.” he brings up his elbow to rest it against the headboard of the bed as he looks down to see you giving him the sweetest puppy eyes ever. when he gets comfortable thrusting himself into your mouth, he speeds his actions up, using you only for his pleasure. after all, you told him he can.

he starts to mercilessly piston his hips into your face, finding the wet sounds coming from your mouth and the repeated gagging unbelievably arousing, driving him feral.

“i’m sorry,” he would heave over you whenever he makes you gag. “shit, i’m so sorry. you just feel so fucking good, oh god. i’m sorry.” he repeats his apologies like a prayer.

he uses the hand gripping your hair as leverage to shove you down on him, meeting his hips half way as he thrusts into you. when you feel him twitch inside your mouth, you want to help him increase his feeling of pleasure, so you start to hum and moan around him, the vibrations making him gasp.

“fuck. fuck i’m gonna cum. gonna cum so hard shit.” he warns you, trying to pull your head away just in case you didn’t want to swallow. but you did, oh god, you needed him to. even if you didn’t want to at first, seeing him so happy, having the time of his life with your mouth, you would change your mind if it makes him even happier.

“i’m cumming! oh, oh god. holy…oh, fuck!” he screams, being more vocal than ever as he shoves his dick down your throat, staying still as he finishes in your mouth. you feel his balls against your chin, his tip restricting around your throat as his hot liquid runs down it. you try your best to help get every last drop, using your tongue to suck him dry. he stays this way until he finishes completely, which took a while considering how much he came.

you were starting to run out of oxygen, choking and gagging as you tap his thigh as a sign for him to pull away. he mutters an apology, getting up from you completely before resting his body on top of you.

he holds himself up with one arm to look at you, obsessing over your pink lips as much as you were obsessing over his flushed face and hazy eyes. he notices a little bit of cum and spit dribbling down from the corner of your chin, so he sticks his tongue out, licking it off until he reaches your mouth, giving you the most passionate kiss.

“thank you.” he mumbles against your hot skin when he pulls away, panting from the lack of oxygen from your previous actions. “thank you so fuckin’ much.”

he would be so fucking loud and vocal i cannot stress this enough. i wish i was the first person to give him a blowjob, it would’ve been the most beautiful thing anyone has ever seen. i mean, just look at him??

[comphy-and-cozy]

the guy on the team - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe

Word Count: 4.2K

Author’s Note: rediscovered the three paragraphs of filth i wrote after seeing this dude play (and score) in his first ever home game as a detroit red wing, then went buck wild writing about it. that's all you really need to know. 🎶 karma is the guy on the wings coming straight home to me... 🎶

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Unprotected sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering (f receiving), brief masturbation (f), very minor spanking, creampie, me being a huge fucking simp series masterlist

October 2024

The goal horn—restored from the glory days at Joe Louis Arena, reminiscent of legends and lore and well-decorated history—blares through the arena, the sound nearly swallowed by the roar of the crowd. Don’t Stop Believing plays over the speakers, the “born and raised in South Detroit” chant almost deafening as 19,000 of Hockeytown’s finest pay a proud homage to the city.

The energy is palpable, infectious, and your eyes fall to the sea of red jerseys at center ice, sticks raised in appreciation and celebration of their first win and first home game of the season. They’re smiling, a few of them clapping each other on the back or tapping padded knees with their stick, circling around as they soak in the joy and promises of a strong season.

The 37 on his back stands out proudly, the bright white stark against the rich red. He offered to get you a jersey, identical to the one he’s wearing right now, but you’d declined and opted for an old sweatshirt from 2002; wearing his name still felt a little too cheeky. Your eyes follow his movements, almost subconsciously, and your gaze slides to the winged wheel embroidered on his chest when he circles around.

There’s a burn in your cheeks as you shamelessly check him out, anonymous in the sea of fans who are starting to make their way out of the arena. No one there knows you from any other admirer, that you know what he looks like beneath his pads and his gear, underneath the delicious slate gray suit that the Red Wings’ socials posted. 

You’ve barely made it to your front door when the text buzzes your phone in your pocket. 

[JT:] You free tonight? [JT:] Feel like celebrating [You:] Why, did something happen?

You don’t have to see his face to know he’s smirking at your comment. The text bubble pops back up, and you do your best to summon the chill, cool girl and not squeal when you see the response.

[JT:] You want to come over later?

Despite the effort, you can’t help the smile that emerges on your face. His next text informs you that he’s out getting post-game drinks and dinner with his family who came to town to see his debut in Detroit. You’re not offended that you didn’t receive an invite—just excited to have received a text. The status of your relationship is still up in the air, floating somewhere between casually dating and something with benefits. Meeting his family is far from your bucket list. At this point, anyway.

Though your makeup was already done for the game, you decide to reset in the shower. You exfoliate, shave, and take your time moisturizing until you’re squeaky clean and your skin is smooth. Your pre-dick appointment ritual is practiced, having perfected it in the last six weeks that you’ve been involved with JT Compher. He doesn’t expect perfection, has told you on multiple occasions in so many words, but the routine makes you feel like you’re worth his time, his affection, his attention—that’s something you’ll deal with in therapy, though. 

After the body prep comes a quick blow dry, a light layer of fresh makeup (you learned your lesson with too much makeup after JT made sure that the entire sultry eye you’d worked so hard on ended up smeared all over the sheets), and then the undergarment selection. By no means do you have an expansive luxury lingerie collection, but you’ve found yourself glancing at the intimate wear section when you’re out, anticipating the reaction of a certain redhead as you run your fingers over the various pieces on display. 

Tonight does feel special, you admit, with plenty to celebrate: a debut, a win, and two points for JT. The lacy red bralette feels fitting, perfect for a little ‘wow’ factor without feeling like you’re trying too hard—and, of course, a nod to his (and your) team. Cheeky red panties finish your look, hidden by a pair of yoga pants and a cropped zip-up hoodie: the quintessential dick appointment outfit.

By the time you’re spritzing on your perfume, the come over text comes through. Slinging a small overnight bag over your shoulder with a few essentials, you lock up your apartment and head on your way. Nerves flutter in your chest the way they always do, anticipation building as you pull into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

JT hasn’t changed out of his pregame suit, the takeout box sitting on the counter an indicator he hasn’t been home for long. Your heart flutters at the realization that he must’ve texted you before he’d even left dinner, that he was thinking of you even while sitting and celebrating with his family. 

After closing the door behind you, he moves in to greet you with a kiss, and once his lips touch yours, it’s like the floodgates of desire have opened up and you lose all self control. Without warning, your hands tug at his neck to kiss him fervently, quickly pressing your body against his and sighing at the warmth. 

He groans, returning the kiss with equal ardor as his hands find their home on your hips. As you’re turning your attention to his belt, pulling your lips away from him for a moment, he murmurs, “Not that I’m not really, really appreciating this welcome home, but is there a reason for the extra enthusiasm?”

Clink. The belt’s hit the floor, and you waste no time getting your mouth back on his. Your hand slinks up his thigh, palming the half-hard appendage in his slacks eagerly. Involuntarily, you feel a needy throb between your thighs, the low thrum in his chest adding fuel to the fire.

“Really liked you in that jersey,” you purr. 

“Oh yeah?”

Your bottom lip slips between your teeth and you nod, glancing up at him. “Yeah.”

JT smirks, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit. He doesn’t say it, but you know it drives him wild how much of an impact he has on you. How little he has to work to have you desperate for him. “Anything else?”

“I really liked it when you scored,” you say, wistfully recalling the way it sounded hearing his name announced over the loudspeaker at Little Caesars Arena. “You should do that some more.”

“How much did you like it?” 

With just one sentence, he’s managed to increase the temperature in the room by at least 20 degrees; the words themselves are innocent, but the rumble behind them offers a filthy, sinful promise. His gaze is hot, predatory even, following the movement of your hand as you unzip your hoodie in response to his question. You don’t miss the way his breath hitches at the peek of red lace, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when you shrug off the fleece.

Tension is thick in the air as you stand before him, heart pulsing in your throat. With a blink, he seemingly regains his composure, though his eyes linger on your cleavage between the lace cups. “That much, huh?”

Another nod, shivering under the heated way he watches you sink to your knees in front of him. Breaking eye contact with him is difficult, but you’re met with an equally pleasing view of his firm length pressed against the rich material of his dress pants. 

Your hand works at the zipper of his slacks, the other slipping between the metal teeth to press your palm against him. He’s throbbing under your touch, growing more and more solid as your hand strokes him through his boxer briefs. 

Words aren’t necessary—or capable, for that matter—once you finally fish out his length and lap at the tip. The only thing exiting his mouth are strangled curses mingled with the sigh of your name, hand slipping into your hair when he slides further into the hot cavern of your mouth. He’s fully hard now, resting heavy on your tongue as you trace the vein that throbs on the underside of his shaft.

JT grunts, tilting his head down to watch the way his cock slides between your lips. Your hands hold yourself steady against his strong, muscular thighs—one of the more underrated parts of his body, in your opinion—as you bob your head back and forth, wetting every inch of him with your mouth. You wrap your fingers around the base, twisting and setting a cruel rhythm that earns a loud whine from his throat, followed quickly by a long, “Fuuuuuuuck.”

Nails scratch lightly at your scalp, like maybe he’s searching for purchase, his chest starting to heave a little more frantically the more you work him to a state of dizzy bliss. It’s the least you can do, you think, to congratulate him on his first ever home game in Detroit. And, maybe, there’s a little piece of you that wants to reward him, because you still haven’t quite thanked him thoroughly enough for selecting your city as his final destination in free agency. For coming home to you.

A wet, frothy mixture of spit and precum coats your chin when he finally tugs you back with a groan. His eyes are dark pools of umber, arousal seeping out of them as he drinks in the sight of you on your knees, lips shining with the lewd evidence of your worship.

“Bedroom,” he husks, helping you onto your feet and pressing his groin against the swell of your ass as he gently nudges you down the hall toward his room. 

Falling forward onto the mattress, you glance at him over your shoulder and catch him admiring the view before his fingers are digging into the hem of your pants and tugging down. The sharp intake of breath tells you he likes your choice of panties, left as a sneaky surprise for him to unwrap as his reward. “Oh, she really likes it when I score goals.”

A wiggle of your hips earns a slap to your ass. Soon enough, you’re flipped onto your back, feeling the weight of him settled between your legs and his mouth slotting over yours. His lips are sure, certain, plush against yours, lazily commandeering control. Kissing him never gets old, not even when his erection is bumping against your lace-shrouded pelvis, silently begging for entry. 

One of his hands runs over your neck, down your chest, palming your breast through the bralette. He toys with the scalloped hem, admiring the feel of it beneath his fingers. The low rumble of his hum vibrates against the spot on your jaw that he’s paused to mouth at while his hands explore, hot breath cascading down the sensitive skin of your neck. “Y’look so pretty, I almost don’t want to take it off.”

“You like me in red, too, hm?” 

“I like you in anything,” he muses, allowing his tongue to trail along the thin strap that rests on your collarbone. It’s a sweet comment that you don’t have time to dwell on when his attention moves to the swell of your breast, then flicks at your taut nipple through the lace. “But red definitely suits you.”

JT punctuates his statement with a gentle nibble, tracing the floral pattern with the tip of his tongue until the fabric is damp with his saliva and your back is arched off of his sheets. Your fingers are threaded through his hair, knees pressed into his sides when your hips start to roll against his thigh that’s slotted between your legs. 

“Can’t decide if I want to taste you or fuck you first,” he murmurs against your breast. A hand slinks down your body, eventually settling on the fabric between your thighs; a pleased hum leaves his throat, presumably at the moisture he finds there. The breath in your throat catches when he brings two fingers to his lips. “A taste can’t hurt, right?”

The sight of JT Compher gazing lustfully at you from between your legs is one you’ll never take for granted, nor is the feeling of his hot breath against the inside of your thighs. Even better than that is the sound of his groan when he tugs the lace panties down your legs, eyes never leaving the dripping heat in front of him.

His hand draws to the apex of your thighs, and you brace yourself to feel a finger slipping past your lips; instead, you only receive the ghost of his touch, drawing up the slick that’s dribbled out of you.

“J,” you whine, hips bucking impatiently. You’re not sure you’ll survive his teasing antics—not tonight.

“Jus’ wanna enjoy my treat,” he says, cheeky, popping the finger in his mouth with a groan. “I love when your pussy drools like this.”

Soft, pillowy lips press against your core, and you aren’t sure who moans louder: you, from the feeling of his mouth finally touching you where you need, or him, at the taste of you on his tongue. He sets to work, devouring your cunt with his usual practiced precision; long laves of his tongue paired perfectly with gentle sucking of your clit. It isn’t until he pauses for just a moment to wrap your legs around his head that you realize he’s grinding himself against the mattress.

“JT, let me—”

“No, baby,” he pants, barely parting his mouth from you, his voice muffled by your skin. “Y’taste way too fucking good.”

You’re in the process of wondering what you did to deserve a man who enjoys eating your pussy more than you do when his hand slips between your legs, joining his tongue to aid in his quest to bring you to climax. He alternates between dipping his finger into your heat and using it to circle your clit while his mouth continues its sinful magic. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, spine peeling off the mattress when he curls his finger, striking at the spongy spot inside of you. The pleasure is blinding, radiating from the place where he strokes diligently. “Don’t stop.”

For being a man, JT is good at following instructions, especially when it comes to making you come. It doesn’t take long for your legs to quiver and a loud moan to rip from your throat; he hums in encouragement, fingers pumping relentlessly until you’re spent, slumped back against his pillow. You’re pretty sure your bones have disappeared and your body is now just a floating, ethereal being. You know, status quo with him.

“One for the assist,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh. His lips are glistening with your slick and his spit, coating the auburn whiskers of his beard, and you draw him up to taste it.

His contented hum that vibrates against your lips when you kiss him makes your heart warm, like he could kiss you all day and not get sick of it. The feeling is mutual, you think, savoring the way his mouth fits perfectly against yours along with the heady taste of you on his tongue. His hand moves to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing gently as he swallows your sighs and comedown whimpers eagerly.

“You gonna fuck me now?” you ask into his mouth, once you regain the ability to speak. Sometimes, he has a habit of kissing the thoughts straight out of your brain. You love it more each time.

JT’s smile curls up against your lips. “Greedy girl, aren’t you?”

The sense of satisfaction watching his smile falter when your hand reaches between your bodies to stroke his erection is unmatched. Anything to render him speechless, too; the guttural moan is just a bonus. “Been waiting for this since warmups, when I saw you skating around in the winged wheel.”

“That’s a long time,” he says smugly, sitting up with a grunt and urging you to follow. When you turn your back to him, he pushes you down onto your elbows playfully, then offers a slap on your ass. “Your poor, poor pussy. So deprived.”

Turning your head, you watch him discard the rest of his clothes before his fist wraps around his cock, dragging up and down a few times. It’s a struggle to resist the whimper that threatens to bubble up in your throat. He runs the tip through your folds, coating it in your slick with a tsk. “So pretty. Should I give her what she wants?”

Instead of giving in, begging him the way you know he wants you to, you lean forward, ensuring he has an even better view of everything you have to offer. Your hand slithers between your thighs, fingers flattening as they rub at your clit. You part your folds before allowing your finger to dip into your entrance. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice dripping with a mixture of desire and awe. You swear you can feel the heat from where his eyes are burning a hole in you, staring at the way you touch yourself. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

Preening under his praise, your marriage joins your middle finger, moaning loudly when the two plunge into your heat. The sound of your slick is audible, harmonizing with your soft sighs and his deep, ragged breathing behind you. You muse, “I’ve always wanted to fuck a Red Wing. Doesn’t really matter who. Just want to say I did, you know?”

JT’s dark chuckle behind you sends shivers down your spine. He probes the head of his dick—still positioned at your entrance, waiting patiently for its turn—against your fingers, teasing you before nudging your hand out of the way. It falls to the mattress, and you return to leaning on both elbows. “You know how much I like making your dreams come true.”

The huffed laughter that falls out of your mouth is quickly usurped by a gasp when he pushes his hips forward. Pausing halfway, he hums at the way you squeeze him tightly before he sheaths himself completely. It’s a feeling you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to; so perfect and satisfying and full. Just the touch of his skin to yours is enough to ignite a flame deeper than you’ve ever experienced with anyone else—the intimate feeling of him inside of you is nothing short of euphoric. 

You push yourself back onto him, body acting on its own and greedily taking what it wants. He makes a sound behind you, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt; whatever it is, it’s followed by a firm slap against your ass that has you moaning.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “Fuck yourself on it.”

As if to accentuate his point, his fingertips trail up your spine before his hand fists into the lace strings displayed on your back. Once his hold is firm, he uses the material to drag you back against him and set a rhythmic slapping of your ass against his hips. 

JT fucks you until you’re a babbling, sweating mess, only capable of incoherent whimpers and crying out a semblance of his name. He’s steady and consistent, confidence rolling off of him even despite the way his voice falters when he’s murmuring filth in your ear, using your bralette to tug you backwards against his chest.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he whispers, beard scratching deliciously against the curve of your jaw. You nod, desperate, even your thoughts echoing the rhythm of his length driving in and out of you.

Teeth sink into the meat of your shoulder at the same time the universe explodes. Eyes squeezed shut, legs clenched tight, the air wrenched from your lungs as your body goes rigid in his arms. He hums lowly, working you through it, soft praises whispered against your skin.

“One for the goal,” he says, cheeky. You don’t have the brainpower to even roll your eyes at his hubris. Given the way your legs are still shaking, you’d say he has a right to be cocky.

Strong arms help you back down to your stomach, and you’re thankful for the soft mattress beneath you, no longer needing to hold yourself up; you’re not sure your limbs have the strength to. JT’s hands gently pull your hips back, lifting them up slightly to slide a pillow beneath them before he’s diving in face first with a groan. “Fucking love the way your cunt tastes after it’s been fucked.”

His tongue laps at you, and you squirm under his attention. Grabbing at your ass with both hands, he kneads the globes and offers a hearty smack that earns a squeal from you. “JT!”

“Sorry, baby,” he says, but the nip on your ass tells you he isn’t. You feel him shift before he’s helping to flip you over onto your back, and the sight of him smiling down at you makes your heart flutter. “Can’t help it.”

Something you’ve learned over the last few weeks with JT is that he is a thorough, meticulous lover. He worships at your altar until he’s completely absolved and your thoughts are wiped clean, pulling prayers from your throat with easy, intentional thrusts. With your legs resting in the crook of his elbows, he drives into you, solid, steady, watching the union of your bodies with a hunger that might intimidate you if it wasn’t the same one consuming you entirely.

“Look so good like this,” he murmurs, eyes roving over your body, admiring each curve as if he sculpted them himself. His gaze holds the sway of your breasts, testing the way you respond to different pulses of his hips. “Y’take dick like a fuckin’ pro, sweetheart. You know that?”

You hope the question is rhetorical, for when you go to attempt an answer, all that comes out is a garbled whimper. The praise makes your skin hot, heightens the flutter in your belly, and when he tells you to touch yourself, you blink dumbly at him. It garners a smile on his pretty lips—so fucking handsome—perhaps pleased with the way he’s fucked you stupid on his cock.

“Won’t last much longer,” he purrs. He swallows thickly, and if your brain wasn’t complete mush, you’d be very satisfied that he’s losing control, too. “Make yourself come for me. Jus’ one more, baby, please.”

And when he asks so nicely, how can you disobey?

Your hand snakes its way between your legs, rubbing at your tender clit; the action enhances the delicious, soul-altering feeling of JT’s dick delivering pleasure and promise. His eyes are glued to your movements, but your eyes are watching him.

JT Compher has always been beautiful. Handsome. Exquisite, even. But the sight of him, eyes shut, lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, mouth open as his head falls back in ecstasy? No words. Truly, indescribable. 

It’s enough that you try to stave off your own orgasm just to prolong your view—that is, until the force of it absorbs you and then shatters you, seizing every last cell and filling them with euphoria. When the fuzziness fades from your eyes, JT’s panting body is on top of you, planting kisses along your collarbone. “And finally, one for the win.”

A dreamy smile slides onto your face. Weakly, your arms wrap around him, grazing the skin on his back lightly. He feels good in your arms. Safe. Comfortable. Natural. 

“Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?” 

There’s a pause as you try to process what he said, sure that he fucked you so good, your hearing’s gone out, too. He nudges your jaw with his nose.

“B–breakfast?” Your voice comes out way shakier than you intended. You feel the short exhale from his huffed laugh against your skin.

“Don’t want you to think you’re just a booty call,” he says, like it’s obvious, like he’s not still half-hard buried inside of you, his cum seeping out onto the wrinkled sheets beneath you.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Can’t think about anything else about you or I’ll get hard again,” he admits wryly. The confession strokes your ego, something he manages to do without even trying. As you debate if you should, in fact, rouse a round two, your pussy flutters weakly in protest—dick too good. Need break.

JT’s hands never leave your body as he helps you walk to the bathroom, laughing at the way you waddle to avoid spilling cum all over his floor. Once you’re cleaned up, you slip on the t-shirt you packed, joining him at the sink to brush your teeth. He bumps your hip affectionately with his, and the domesticity of it all contrasted with the filthy aura from 5 minutes prior is astonishing—in a good way.

Back in his room, he eyes the bag that you place on the floor. “You can keep some things here, you know. I cleared out a drawer.”

It’s a simple statement, but one that strikes you hard; symbolic and heavy in its meaning: a place carved out for you in his home. 

In his life. 

JT sees you standing, gaping at him, and closes the gap between you before he’s tilting your jaw upward to look at him. His lips hover over yours, the ghost of his touch lingering in a way that makes your heart stop.

His voice is low, almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to burst the bubble surrounding you. “If I’m coming on too strong, let me know.”

“You aren’t,” you breathe, surprised that your voice even works. His lips curl into a smile against yours before he presses forward to kiss you. It’s slow, ardent, sweet. Dizzying.

“Let’s go to bed. You can fill the drawer tomorrow.”

Tag list: @somuchf4rstardust @tpwkstiles @smileysvech @senditcolton @robindrake13 @laurenairay

[bunnywrites1414]

"Suck and shut up"

Kinktober 3rd, 2023: Y/N gets bratty without something in her mouth and Aizawa is tired of hearing her

“Dude my fucking shoes” The girl snaps, recoiling from Aizawa’s muddy work boots. A mud smear across the top of her purple satin pumps taunts her and she glares at him “Thanks now i have to find something else to wear” she pivots and stomps back up the stairs leaving Aizawa fuming at the door. Usually one little snap like that wouldn’t bother him at all. He knows his girlfriend is a little brat and expects bits and pieces of that to show themselves every so often. But she has not let up for anything today. She’s had an issue with everything today. Thats he had to work, that he came home early, breakfast was bland, she had to make her own lunch, she couldn’t decide what to wear, she wanted to leave the house tonight but she didn’t want to go to a work function. This list of things she’s been snappy about today is a mile long.

He changes into a pair of clean boots and waits. When she’s done and she slinks back down the stairs in a similar outfit in the same color with a pair of new and pretty purple platforms. “Are you ready?” He asks his eyes are sharp but his voice is flat. “Yeah.” she types away on her phone as he walks out the door and she slides out after him. They both slide into their respective seats in the car and he waits until they’re a ways away from home and then clears his throat. “Do you wanna talk about why you’ve been an insufferable brat today?” Her eyes slant to him and if looks to kill Aizawa’s ghost would be driving the car.

“I wouldn’t be such an ‘insufferable brat’…” she says making dramatized finger quotes “… if you paid any attention to me” Her arms cross over her chest and his first thought is that she looks like an angry toddler.

“Is this about last night?”

Silence. “God if i knew you wanted to suck my cock that bad i’d have let you.” Her immediate flush and curl into herself lets him know he’s right.

The night before she’d been waiting on him to come through the door on the floor near the couch. She’d waited for him to address her, and basically jumped him at the door after. When she’d knelt in front of him to pull him free and let him fuck her throat he’d stopped her and laid her on the bed. He said he’d been too hard and couldn’t wait to be in her. He knew she wasn’t happy about it but he had no idea she’d get this bitchy.

“Poor fucking brat, Just wanted something in that pretty mouth huh?” she flushes again and refuses to look at him. Aizawa’s hand slips to her thigh and squeezes a bit. “Can you be patient for a few hours babydoll? I can let you suck on whatever you want when this dinner is over ok?” she side eyes him a bit suspicious of the lack if mention of her punishment. “Yeah ok. I can wait.” she squeezes his hand at her thigh and relaxes into the seat. “That’s my girl.” He says as they pull into the restaurant parking lot.

Dinner goes relatively smoothly. She manages her attitude mostly well. She rolls her eyes at Present Mic a handful of times but other than that. When they slide into the seats of his large black range rover she lets her hair down and shoves her 6inch platforms off her aching feet. “You did very well tonight Angel. I’m very proud of my patient girl.” The girl wiggles in her seat and tries not to get too excited.

They say nothing else until the car slides into the driveway. “Go upstairs” Aizawa says petting her head as they make their way through the door. She nods and makes haste up the stairs and into the shared bedroom falling to her knees by the footboard of the gigantic bed in the center of the room.

He takes his time; stripping from his boots, leaving his important gear in the foyer, grabbing two water bottles from the fridge, and then just standing downstairs.

It’s about 30 minutes later when he comes into the room and still patient as ever she kneels at the end of the bed, looking a bit bored but in place and position. “There’s my good girl. I was wondering where you went” He taunts from the door.

Theres a pathetic whine and then a flinch when a water bottle lands in front of her. “The whole thing.” He orders before standing in front of her. She opens it and chugs it before handing him the empty bottle back. He nods and tosses it into the trash can by the bed.

When she meets his eyes they’re hard, bored even.

“Open”

Her mouth falls open, she keeps her eyes on his. The pad of his thumb runs over her bottom row of teeth, under her tongue, over her tongue. “That’s my favorite girl, if you needed someone to play with this oral fixation baby it’s all you had to say. No reason to be an insufferable bitch.”

She flinches at the word. Degradation isn’t usually their thing but she gets more excited this time. “Not gonna give you my cock yet….” she cuts him off with a whine and he gives her a quick smack to her cheek “… because you don’t fucking deserve it. But for now. Suck. and Shut. Up. “

She whimpers around his thumb but sucks, running her tongue over it. Eventually he switches and slides his first and middle finger into mouth as far as he can, her teeth grazing his knuckles. She gags and tries to pull back but he’s always been faster than her. His hand catches the back of her head and he keeps her still, his two fingers pushed into the back of her throat. “No pup. You wanted something in this mouth so bad you’re gonna take whatever i’ll give you”. She chokes and whines again tears pooling in her eyes.

He keeps her there for about 30 seconds before releasing her head and letting her cough and spit up on the carpet at his feet. He stands there while she gasps air into her burning lungs.

“Are you done?” He spits, no real venom behind it. She didn’t realize how far she’d actually pushed him until now she looks up, guilt swimming in her eyes. “What?” He asks knowing her well enough to see the words forming in her head.

“M’ sorry Daddy.” she says as his fingers run through her hair. “I was really awful to you today” She says pushing up into his hand. And he nods, an acceptance. He knows she doesn’t brat in disrespect, just when she’s feeling something. Sadness, fear, anger, jealousy. Whatever the cause is, she’s usually quick to apologize.

“Lay down, on the bed, hands above your head” He says before stepping away from her. She stands on weak knees and falls onto their shared bed and stretching her arms above her head. Her tummy peaks out from under her top. “What a pretty baby…” he drawls, his fingers coast along the exposed skin.

She shivers at the touch of his hands and her eyes close at the heat of his hand gliding along her tummy. “I love you Daddy” she says her pretty eyes flashing up to meet his. His hand trails from her tummy to her chest, up her breastbone to her neck where he applies enough pressure to make her head spin. “I love you babydoll” he mumbles as he leans down to kiss her. His fingers press a little harder into her throat. “You have a lot of making up to do…”.

Her heartbeat pounds into her brain and he can see from her eyes she’s too far gone to know what to do by herself. “Strip, you can keep the skirt and shoes I pay for” a snipe for the shoe thing earlier, it almost hurts her heart but she quickly pulls off her shirt, bra, and panties; the latter of which she folds and hands to him. He throws them on his side table and slides between her legs. “Look at you…” amusement but no shock, “an absolute fucking mess”, his fingers spread her slick along her folds, rubbing over her nub and snickering when she whines and her hips cant into his hand. A delicious burn spreads over her pelvis and her hips fly off their bed “Daddy!”

He chuckles and his palm slides over her stomach pressing her hips into their bed “Easy baby, can’t make you feel good if your shoving away from me” His fingers circle mercilessly against the bundle of nerves and she whines and groans into the air “D-Daddy, yellow, too much please don’t” she begs, direct stimulation bringing more burning then pleasure. His hand retracts “Sorry angel, are you ok? I didn’t realize i wasn’t over the hood” his face fills with overwhelming concern, his fingers closing around her hips “S’ ok daddy” she says smiling lazily up at him.

“Can i have your cock please Daddy?” Her hips moves against him, and he lets her grind against the bulge in his dress pants. She whimpers and clings to the pillows above her head. “Daddy pleassseeeeee” She whines and and her pulls the skirt up to show him the wet spot she’s creating on his pants, at the sight he groans and throws his head back.

“Yeah baby, yeah you can have it” He says pulling himself free not bothering to pulls his pants all the way off, or to chastise her for whining. He slips into her so easily he stumbles a bit. They groan in tandem and her hands leave their post to find purchase in his fancy dress shirt. “Fuck oh god, Daddy” she whines and arches off the bed. “You’re so deep” she says as her fingers tighten against his torso.

He takes a moment to regain his composure. “Fuck you always feels so good, this pussy was made for me wasn’t it baby?” He rasps as he leans down to push their foreheads together. She nods frantically, She pushes her hips up to meet each of shallow thrusts.

As he builds up his speed and force she lets him hold her hips up off the bed, he drills into her sweet spot over and over and he revels in her falling apart under him, at the screaming moans, at the roll of her eyes, at she shake of her thighs, the clench of her abs, her entire being coming apart at the seams.

“I’m, i - Daddy” she can’t make the words, her brain can’t form a sentence but she doesn’t have to. “Yeah. I know angel. Go ahead. Cum for daddy.” he reads her mind like no one else and at the permission she explodes. The clench around his makes his hips falter. He groans as he finishes deep in her warmth and she throws her arms around his neck. Their kiss is sweet and softens as they relax, as they calm down together.

[octuscle]

HEY SUPOIRT

Sorry got excited and forgot how much bigger my fingers were. But I’m the guy you helped get that muscle bear body he wanted. Thanks again for that, by the way.

But I got another ask if you got a minute.

I’ve got plenty of twinks and twunks falling all over me, and don’t get me wrong those guys are great, but there’s a couple of fellow beefy bears at the job, including some of the big bosses in suits even above me, I wish I could get to do the same. Problem is: they’re straight as an arrow.

You got a way to make me more ahem convincing? You mentioned something with my pits last time and I’m not gonna lie, dude, that sounded kinda hot to me. Maybe something to do with that?

First of all: Glad that you like your new body. To be honest: I think it's hot as hell:

Your area director is indeed a really handsome fellow. Not quite young anymore, but beefy indeed. Hasn't been sitting in his executive chair with a white collar all his life, either. He knows the construction sites and hard physical work. You two go over the quarterly figures. Boring stuff. Rising purchase prices. Falling order numbers. The job used to be more fun. Sweat stains are forming under your arms. Shit, did you forget your undershirt? And the way it smells, so does your deodorant. Your boss sniffs and grins. He asks if you didn't have time to shower today. You laugh and say that you were at the gym a little longer than planned today, so you had to save time. Your French cuffs disappear. You wear only a short-sleeved shirt. Your boss loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button. Shit, you once saw at the company party that there is hair on your chest… But there seems to be a fur.

Precum drips into your jockstrap. You're not wearing dark blue suit pants anymore. But like your boss a dirty jeans. And heavy work boots. Your shirt almost dissolves into thin air and becomes a stained wifebeater. You look at the numbers on the monitor and cross your arms behind your head. Beads of sweat glisten in your armpit hair. Your boss moves closer to you. Looks at the numbers on the monitor. Turns to you. And runs his tongue through your armpit. And then, as if nothing had happened, he turns back to the screen, points to a few numbers with his right hand and asks you why energy costs have risen so much. His left hand kneads your bulge in your jeans.

You turn around to face him. He looks at the monitor, unimpressed. Your bulge is getting wet from the precum. His hand goes into your pants. And meanwhile his hair on the head disappears. A massive beard grows on his chin. His voice becomes a thunderous bass. He addresses you only as "Boi" or "Little Lad".

And it seems perfectly natural for him to jerk you off at work. You start to moan. Your cock is hard as steel. You can't hold it much longer. Fuck, you cling to the back of your chair, twitching with ecstasy, your head thrown back. And you shoot your load into your pants. Large wet spots form on your jeans. Your boss pulls his hand out of your pants and rubs his smeared hand on your chest hair clean. "So Boi, now it's time for you to satisfy me." He takes off his sleeveless lumberjack shirt and wifbeater, stands in front of you and unbuttons his jeans.

You know what you have to do. You get down on your knees. You smell the musky scent of his jockstrap. He pulls down the waistband. His cock jumps out of his pants like a jack-in-the-box. And you don't care whether your boss is about to cum in your face or in your ass. Now you have to suck his balls first.

Pic of your boss found @cazaosos5024

[tachimichishrine]

Please I am begging, I can’t get over just how perfect Tachihara would be with the whole ghost face trend. Please please please

<what. what if I told you I wholeheartedly agree. throws my headcanons and love at you>

"scream for me"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! reader {ghostface trend} hcs

warnings: nsfw ; kitchen sex ; knife play ; intended lowercase ; cursing; unedited so unedited i wrote this half asleep thinking abt being pussy drunk on tachi pls forgive me

manz is a SPY. he's done undercover work and wears a disguise 24/7 (his disguise is a goddamn bandaid but he's hot so we let it slide) he adores getting dressed up

I think he'd be really bad at taking it serious though

100% he gets very childish about things like birthdays, holidays, halloween bc he didn't get that kind of experience with his family when he was younger (womp womp :/)

the hunting dogs obviously don't have anything to do with halloween so imagine his surprise when he caught the port mafia hq covered in spider webs and blood.

the blood was likely real

elise was the one who insisted on it, and if she insists, everyone is wearing cat ears and fake vampire fangs.

chuuya was a vampire the dude definitely had practice

he was definitely in the spooky scary spirit when he had his head on your lap, one hand sliding under and up between your thighs like a pillow and watching scream

i KNOW he felt just the teeny tiniest insecurity when you started calling certain scenes really hot but he tried, really hard, to ignore it.

got a little too comfortable and sleepy when you starting running your fingers through his hair and found himself letting out a yelp at the stupidest jumpscares

you teased him for it all night

"do you think I'd survive in one of those horror movies?" you asked later that night, curled up in bed.

"your dumbass would probably trip and kill yourself on a kitchen knife while making breakfast."

"well, fuck you."

"only if you insist" said with his trademark grin.

you got him back by playing into his jumpiness and hiding around every corner, even when you're on missions

you sprung out with a dramatic ghost-like scream (holding back laughter) on one important mission and the man almost shot you

like he pulled the trigger and everything and had to use his ability to keep the bullet from drilling a hole in your stupid skull.

you toned down the pranks after that.

however, it did give him an idea.

he started using his ability to set up the mood for payback by making metal doors creak or scraping chair legs on the ground slowly

a chill physically ran up your spine when you were walking hand in hand and the front door of an empty "for sale" store slammed open, then shut.

maybe he liked it a little how you squeezed his hand when he did that

maybe he liked it a little when you punched him on the shoulder as you realized it was just his antics

but he sure as hell liked it when you roughly smacked his naked ass and shoved his face into the sheets later that night to teach him a lesson

you liked his screams more like that anyways

tachihara was nowhere to be found after you disappeared into the shower trying to wash off all the smeared cum he'd left on your body. you already thought it was strange that he didn't join you even when you offered, but it was even weirder when you came out in nothing but a towel, and the bed was empty.

"michi, I know you're tryin' to be cute or whatever and scare me, but you're not very subtle about it," you giggled, ditching the underwear to just put on some shorts and one of his shirts. your body bounced onto the mattress that was still warm from your bodies, still smelling like sex and gunpowder. the covers were thrown over you and snuggled into and you waited patiently.

it was amusing, at first.

it was annoying after 10 minutes.

you'd gone on your phone, scrolling listlessly to pass the time while you waited for him to finish up whatever stupid prank he was planning so you could get back to sleep, but a whole half hour had passed and it was beginning to feel a little wrong. you weren't worried (he kicked your ass in training too many times for you not to know how strong he was), but sure as hell curious as to what was going on. it was the spooky season, after all, and there was no harm in indulging a little bit; you dialed his number and heard it ring from somewhere in the apartment.

he was really trying to set it up for you, huh? cute. you figured you'd play along.

the phone was vibrating from the kitchen counter, and you picked it cautiously, glancing around you to find out from where your boyfriend was inevitably going to try to jump at you. you heard a chair move, and your eyes darted to look over in that direction out of instinct.

of course a hand clasped around your mouth and another pulled your waist backwards. you bit his gloved hand playfully to get him to let you go and just giggled, shoving your hips back onto him teasingly and trying to flip around to get a look at him.

your entire body got slammed onto the kitchen counter, hair pulled back in one harsh movement

oh fuck.

you didn't think you'd be bent over so fast, his hips already grinding into your ass while the thin, cheap plastic of his mask rubbed against your cheek, his husky voice laying out every lewd thing you both knew you were thinking. from the way his body was leaning onto you, you guessed that he was shirtless and wearing just about the tightest, low-cut pants known to man being held up by a belt (there was definitely a thick belt; you felt the buckle poke into your lower back every time he'd grind too hard)

"michzou..." you didn't have any problems with what he was doing, but loose fingers were touching your body all over and the thin shorts you'd thrown on previously without a second thought were soaking with every word he'd rasp out. "michi, stop playin' around, I-"

it seems your simple ask got you manhandled again, and both gloved hands were now on your thighs, lifting you up to sit you down on the counter so he could rub against you from the front. it was hard to take it seriously and you let out a giggle when you watched him loom over you with the ghostface mask on, trying to be serious. your fingers went to dig into his shoulders as your hips rolled, back arched trying to feel him better.

he sighed, groaning and trying to slip off the mask when he realized it wasn't having the effect he wanted, but you flicked it back on.

"just because I'm laughing doesn't mean I don't think this is fuckin' hot," you reassured him, ironically chuckling again, and this spurred him to grab your hands and pin them above your head on the cabinets above.

"can't believe you liked gettin' fucked by a masked man this much." his voice was deeper than it usually was but god did it get you throbbing. your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to regain control without your hands.

you quipped back with a sly grin. "would be better if you actually fucked me."

shit, you knew just what to say to get him riled up. he let your hands go to pull off your useless shorts which already had splotches of your arousal, and you seized the opportunity to unbuckle his belt, slide your fist into his pants and pull him out.

getting fucked senseless by your masked boyfriend on the kitchen counter at 3 in the morning was not on your schedule for halloween.

"you know," you mused, your pace slowing once the build up had passed but still rocking yourself on him, "usually the victims try to fight back."

"the fuck does that me-"

the cold metal of a knife poked and teased the exposed skin on his neck, and you felt a little irritated you couldn't see his shock through the mask. "c'mon, you've had your fun, baby, it's my turn."

he wanted to play the part, he really did, but before he could try to resist you had him gently sliced into streaks of red, teeth marks coating his body and his tongue gagging on blood-stained fingers from under the mask. your legs were still secured around his hips, fucking into him slowly and deeply, and every guttural groan that echoed out in the hollow apartment was good enough to keep you going while his body tensed up with rigid muscles and heavy breaths.

he couldn't take it anymore once the searing sting of you smearing his blood on his skin mixed in with the pleasure of dragging against your tightly clenched walls, and he murmured a curse before discarding the mask, messily kissing you with groaning lips buried into your neck once he finally got enough air to pant your name.

ah, the dumbass. he really tried to get you to play along but it was hard when you had him under your thumb. maybe next year, he'd try again.

[bleach-your-panties]

Sincember Event❄️❄️

🔴Post Info: UA is an HBCU. Reader is black. The boys are Alphas and Reader is a Delta. Katsuki is frat prez, because we all know he's mixed🤣

🔴I had to do a lot of research on reindeer for this, lmao.

Rating: Suggestive🍭

"Baby! Oh my God! You look so pretty and dainty. Just like a deer!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Eiiji; he always got so enthusiastic watching you get dolled up for parties.

Tonight, Alpha Phi Alpha is hosting their annual Naughty vs Nice Christmas party. It's a costume party, so all frat members and pledges are required to dress up.

Eiji is pledging along with some of his classmates: Denki, Mashairo, Izuku, and Mineta.

The junior and senior members (Katsuki, Hanta, Shoji, and Shoto) had specifically instructed the pledges to dress up as Santa's reindeer while all of them would dress as elves. Katsuki, would of course be dressed as Santa.

With you being Eiijiro's girlfriend of a year now, of course he'd be bringing you along with him to this event. 

Everyone who was anyone would be there, and lots of girls from your sorority, Delta Sigma Theta, would be there as well.

“Thank you, Eiiji! You’re such a cutie. Hey sweetie pie, will you please pass me my lip gloss on the desk over there?” 

Your sweet, redheaded boyfriend nodded happily and got up from his seat on your bed to grab the makeup product for you. “Uh, baby, which one is it? There’s like fifty of them.”

His red eyes stared down at your makeup table which contained various products for primping. 

The lip gloss you were speaking of was contained in a small jar. You had ordered it from one of your favorite Etsy shops.

With a small giggle, you walked over to help him out. 

“This one, pumpkin. The lip creams. Thank you for trying, boo.” He blushed when you pecked him on the temple with your soft, plump lips.

Eiijiro, like the gentleman that he was, pulled out your vanity chair so you could sit down and apply the gloss, called Red Hot, to your pouty lips. After adding some lipliner and blending, your ensemble for the evening was finally complete.

“Okay, I’m ready, Eiiji.”

“Awesome! Well, let’s get to prancing then, my lovely little ungulate lady!” 

“Ooo, big word! I see you’ve been studying your vocabulary lists!” He nodded profusely, making the antler headband atop his head bounce around.

Most of your peers think that Eiijiro is just a big, dumb jock but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The two of you often have study dates in the campus coffee shop or either of your dorm rooms. 

He knows that if he wants to stay on the football team and keep his scholarship that he’ll have to study extremely hard and you’re more than glad to help him out with his goals.

Your roommate, Mina, who just so happens to be a childhood friend of Eiiji’s, is almost never in the room so that gives the two of you a lot of alone time.

—-

The Party

“Hey! The golden couple has finally arrived, now shit can finally start getting interesting!” Denki bounded over to the two of you, his own set of antlers bobbing on his messy blonde bedhead. He threw an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders. 

“Who are you supposed to be? Dasher?” You giggled as Eiijiro put Denki in a headlock with his elbow. 

“Hey, did you guys know that Santa’s reindeer are actually all females? Because, you know, male reindeer actually shed their antlers and Santa’s are always depicted with their antlers.” Eiiji piped up, happy to share his knowledge.

“Wow, dude…that was uh, very thorough. Never would have pegged you for a biology major.” Denki snickered, along with Mineta who’d just strolled up.

“Don’t try to play my baby. He’s a biology and exercise science double major, so don’t do him.” You gave Eiijiro a peck on the lips, your gloss not even smearing. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Beefcake’s got brains and brawn, blah blah. Let’s get fucked up!” 

Denki and Mineta high-fived before disappearing into the crowd.

That’s when you heard the music start up: 

Unh, how you do that?

I’m trying to pursue that

“Oh shit, Eiiji, they’re playing our songs! You ready?!” 

Eiijiro’s grin grew wide across his face and he licked over his sharp canines. One had a ruby red gem implanted in it.

“Ready when you are, babe!”

The two of you strutted to the middle of the dance floor, the party-goers immediately parted the sea and made room for the both of you.

This was the norm for you and Eiijiro whenever you attended Greek parties: your dancing always made you both the center of attention.

Drop it down on a nigga, do damage

Booty moving left to right, it’s panoramic

You bent down in front of Eiiji and touched your toes before sliding your hands up your legs. He grabbed you by your ‘reigns’ and made your ass collide hard with his crotch.

Panoramic, it’s panoramic

Panoramic, it’s panoramic

Drop it down on a nigga, panoramic

Drop it down on a nigga, panoramic

Thanks to you and Mina, he’d become a fantastic dancer. It probably also helps that you're on the dance team while Mina is a cheerleader.

That song hadn’t been playing long when the DJ suddenly switched it up:

All this money on me

All she tryna do is get naked

Naked naked naked

Like a red nose

Like like like like like a red nose

“Oh shit, babe; this one is my fav!” Eiiji hyped and you just laughed. You straightened your back and turned around to face him.

He grabbed your hips and you rested your hands on his forearms while moving your hips side to side with his.

The other patrons had cleared a space for the two of you in the middle of the floor.

All this money on me

Now come take it from a G

All she tryna do is get naked

Naked naked

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like like like like a red nose

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

Eiiji then swiveled you back around and you pressed your ass back up against him. You rubbed it against him seductively then he used his thighs to bounce it from side to side. 

Once again, Eiijiro grabbed your reigns and lifted you up slightly to slam his hips into your ass before letting you drop back down.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

You twerked your ass from side to side while Eiiji held his arms at his sides then he dipped low and moved side to side with you.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like like like like a red nose

Eiiji patted your ass cheeks like a drum then grabbed your reigns and lifted his left leg up on the side of you with your ass pressed to his crotch.

And she gone shake it

Like a red nose

Like a like a like a red nose

He continued holding onto them while the two of you yiked faster and faster. The crowd broke out into cheers and applause, even hollering out your names.

After hearing all of the commotion, Katsuki came out, dressed like a cross between Santa and a bodybuilder while Shoto, Shoji, and Hanta trailed after him in red and green elf outfits.

“Brothers!” Eiiji smiled toothily and went in to give Katsuki a bro hug. 

“The oldest and the coldest.” Shoto said in his monotone voice. Hanta snickered.

Katsuki rolled his vermillion eyes and shrugged Kirishima off of him.

"Okay, Rudolph, the Red-Haired Dipshit. Are you two almost done fucking on the dance floor so we can start the damn games?” Eiiji whined as Katsuki didn’t bother waiting for an answer and just walked away.

“Nice dancing!” Hanta gave him a grin and thumbs up before disappearing back through the crowd after Katsuki and the others.

“Come on Eiiji, let’s go show our faces and play stupid beer pong so we can ditch this and get some double-decker nachos.”

“Ooo, nachos! Come on, baby!” With a surprised squeal turned to giggle, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s muscular neck as he scooped you up bridal-style.

—-

After The Party

“Baby,  -hic- they're -hic- being mean to me again~” Eiiji whined into your plush thighs as you sat criss-cross applesauce on your dorm bed. 

You’d taken off your tight leather pants and now only had on your brown bodysuit. It was so cute how clingy and whiny your handsome boyfriend got when he was drunk. Your acrylic nails stroked his thick, spiked-up locks, making him hum into your lap then nip your thigh with his teeth. One of his big hands gripped the opposite thigh and smacked it.

He also got even more touchy-feely when he was shitfaced like this.

Denki and the others had to help carry him up to your room to keep him from making a complete idiot of himself and ending up getting them arrested for public intoxication.

"Aww, baby, what’s the matter? They wouldn’t let you join in their reindeer games?"

He shook his head sadly and hiccupped again, followed up by a loud belch.

“They said…baby, they said that my nose was too bright…and, and Katsuki said that I couldn’t guide his sleigh tonight!” He lamented, completely distraught. You had to bite down on the back of your hand to keep from laughing at him.

“Yeah baby, I’m pretty sure that Katsuki wouldn’t let you drive his truck in the condition that you’re in right now.” You patted his head.

“It’s not fair!”

With a gentle nudge, you removed his head from your thighs and cupped his cheeks. Leaning down to face him, you kissed both of his reddened cheeks.

Your soft, innocent actions had Eiijiro’s dick standing at full attention in about 2.5 seconds.

He suddenly sat up and grabbed your thighs again, tossing you up towards the headboard. The bounce of your body made him giggle as he hovered over you now.

“Ok, Rudolph, what are you planning?”

"I’m sorry, you just make me so horny, baby. These are horns, right?" He slurred drunkenly. The headband on his head flopped forward and then slid off, landing on your chest.

"Antlers, baby"

"Same thing, right?" He hiccupped again.

You chuckled with a shrug of your shoulders. Eiijiro didn’t seem perturbed though as he reached down to unbutton your bodysuit.

“Can I, baby? I want to make you moan,” He paused, fingers wobbling slightly, “like a wildebeest. Hey, what sound does a reindeer make?"

You were perplexed. "I-I don't know. It's like a moose, right?" 

He shrugged. “Well, whatever it sounds like, I’m about to make you sound like that.”

“Oh, Eiiji, I think you need some water and some Tylenol-” You were cut off as he’d now unsnapped all the buttons and was rubbing your clit through your panties.

"Mmm, baby, let's play some naughty reindeer games of our own, yeah?”

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

[whimsicalcotton]

Hmmm, perhaps some whump/angst prompts for the ordeal of actually having to write fic :) How do 1, 2, 6, 7, 8, 19, or 25 for any permutation of the Amberpricefields sound to you?

you gave me so many good ones to choose from i couldn't help but do a couple ^^

so here's 6 with pricefield Actively Suffering In The Timeloop & 7 with some nebulous amberprice

CWs for implied/referenced child abuse and self-harm in the second one

--- --- ---

6: “It’s just a warm washcloth, okay? Nothing scary.”

“Dude, it’s just paper towel, okay? Nothing scary.”

For a minute, Max doesn’t react; other than continuing to give Chloe that panicked, near feral stare as she keeps one hand clamped over the smudge of blood on her neck. After a few shaky breaths she seems to come back to her senses, defensive posture slackening the slightest bit, slowly letting her hand drop back to her side so Chloe can try and clean her off. 

“Yeah,” she whispers, casting her gaze to the floor. “Right. Sorry.”

Chloe frowns, brushing some of Max's hair aside and wiping off the blood as gently as she can. Max shakes like a leaf in spite of the visible effort to keep still. 

“Max.” The name sits sweet and heavy on her tongue. “Do you ever wonder if maybe all of this shit is starting to get to you? Like, even just a little?”

It’s pointless to ask. She knows just how Max is going to answer. Still, she can’t help but hold out hope that she’ll finally be met with honest admittance.

“I’m fine, Chloe. You don’t need to worry about me.”

No such luck, of course.

“Right, you say that, but this is the third time this week that I’ve had to drag you to the nearest bathroom with your brain melting out of your nose.” The words may be sharp but she keeps her tone soft. “Can you really blame me for thinking you might be overdoing it?”

Max stays quiet for a while. The second Chloe pulls back, she rushes to zip her sweater up and turn away. 

“... We’re wasting time,” she whispers, raspy and grim. “We can talk about this later, okay?”

Oh no, Chloe isn’t falling for that again.

“When,” she grits. “When's later, Max? Tomorrow? Next month? Never?” 

Max flinches.

“You've been at it nonstop since this fucking shitstorm of a week started. I couldn't even get you to sit down long enough to let me do this.” 

Chloe can see the barest hint of a tremor in Max’s shoulders when she replies, stony and solemn. “I’ll sit down when I get it all right. I– I already told you, we’re wasting time.”

“Max, you’re–”

You’re taking on too much. You’re too hard on yourself. You’re starting to scare me. You’re gonna run yourself into the ground and leave me all on my own to bury whatever is left of you. 

Before Chloe can decide which vile truth to spit, Max starts to walk away, stilted and shambling and failing to mask either her slight limp or her dizziness. 

“M’fine,” she says, slurred through the embers of frustration. “C’mon. We’ve gotta go. We’re already late.”

Chloe follows her.

She always will. 

“Late for what?” she asks with a sigh of defeat. “Max? Max, wait up.”

They may be mere inches apart, but Chloe knows Max is miles away from her again. 

--- --- ---

7: “Give it to me. I can do it myself.”

“Give it to me. I can do it myself.”

The demand comes through grit teeth, a desolate yet ironclad mutter half muffled by the way Chloe is hunched over and facing away from her. Rachel can see darkened red smearing on the fingers of Chloe’s outstretched hand, indicative of a half-hearted attempt to cover a wound.

She doesn’t yield.

“Give it to me,” Chloe grumbles, a little louder this time. With the rise in volume comes unmistakable hints of wavering. “What are you even doing out here, anyway? It’s not like I asked you to come.”

Rachel takes another step closer, watching on in seething curiosity as Chloe flinches at the sound alone. “Sure you did,” she says, meant as both a genuine reassurance and a reference to the string of disconcertingly frustrated texts that lead her here. “You–”

“I didn’t fucking do anything, alright? I didn’t ask you to break curfew, I didn’t ask you to drag your ass down here, I’m not making any goddamn problems for anyone but my fucking self.”

Chloe finally turns to face her, mouth twisted up in a snarl and one eye wincing shut above an angry, blooming bruise. 

“If you get in any trouble for this it’ll be your own fucking fault. Now– Now give me the stupid bandages and leave me the fuck alone.”

Rachel does precisely the opposite, and rushes to sit beside her and take a better look.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Chloe barks, backing away. “I said leave. What, the one time I ask you to fucking go and you suddenly can’t remember how?”

One of her sleeves is starting to soak through with muddled red latticework. When Rachel looks away from it, she finds Chloe tracking her gaze with a wild and weary apprehension, breathing harsh and thin.

Low and calm and pointedly ignorant of the instinctive insult, Rachel opts to try for a bargain. “If I let you patch up your arm on your own, will you let me take a look at your face?”

It’s a trick, of course. Chloe doesn’t have three hands, she’s going to need help with it at some point. It’s just a matter of getting her to ask. 

For a moment or two, the only noise is the usual nighttime melody of the junkyard’s various distant creaks and groans.

“Fine. If it’ll get you to fuck off. Y’know you really are a pain in the ass when you wanna be.”

Rachel ignores that one too. Instead, she places the packages of alcohol wipes she's been white-knuckling onto the floor between them, and holds out the bandages in silent offering. 

Chloe doesn't reach for them right away, and even when she does, she snatches them up like she thinks they'll be taken away from her. She rips a pack open with her teeth and hooks two fingers into the cuff of her stained sleeve, hesitating for a second before glaring back over at Rachel and her admittedly prying stare. 

“You don't have to keep watching me, you fuckin’ weirdo.” 

Ah, the insults are getting a little softer already. Rachel just needs to bide her time and stand her ground. Though she can't help but pass comment on the fact that she can hear how rushed and rugged Chloe is being. 

“You shouldn't be so rough, babe,” she murmurs. “You're just gonna hurt it m–”

“Don't–” Chloe interrupts herself with a sharp, pained hiss. “Don't tell me what to do.”

“Right. Sorry.”

That seems to take some of the wind out of her sails. Chloe doesn’t like sorry’s, but only because she hardly ever gets them. She bites out a sigh, straddling the line between resigned and reluctant. After another few moments shuffling, she gives a defeated little mutter.

“Since you haven’t left,” she says, no doubt less corrosive than intended. “C-Could you… help me wrap this?”

Rachel glances up at her before moving closer. She’s glaring daggers down at the mess of haphazard dressings on her forearm, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to keep her eyes from watering. It works for a little while. She manages to stave it off throughout the whole ordeal of fixing up the bandages, but by the time Chloe is making good on her end of the deal and letting Rachel take a look at that bruise, a few stray tears have spilled down her cheeks.

“Why are you still here?” she asks, a final and crumbling attempt at a defense, refusing to meet Rachel’s gaze even with their proximity. “Don’t you have anywhere b-better to be?”

Despite her saying that, Chloe leans the uninjured side of her jaw into Rachel’s touch.

Rachel answers, small and singed with barely restrained fire. “I think I’m right where I need to be.”

[crystalflygeo]

omg crys, fuck me dude, that fanart sheepy dropped in the zhongli channel made my legs fly WIDE OPEN and gave me this crazy brainrot and i just hAVE TO SCREAM AT YOU ABOUT IT BC OMGASASDHLHJDKHF

morax has you in his lap. your naked legs draped over his open thighs. his bare, warm chest pressed against your dewy back. that charcoal arm draped over you. that war-calloused hand slipping between your legs. those golden fingers snaking between your folds and slowwwwwwly circling your clit.

and he's whispering in your ear the whole time...

shushing you when you whine for him...

warning you to keep quiet lest anyone hear you... 

"or do you want someone to see you like this? legs spread and cunt leaking all over the lord of geo, defiling my statue like the slut you are for me...hm? yes, that turns you on, doesn't it, pet?" he taunts you as his hard, ribbed cocks strain against your lower back, their blunt, golden tips smearing his precum across your hot skin.

you try, you really do. poor thing.

you bite your lip until it almost bleeds but nothing can hold back the pathetic squeal that rips from your throat when a single digit pushes into your clenching, needy hole.

morax growls in your ear "i warned you...", his words almost as sharp as the vicious, wet SWAT of his soaked hand when it makes contact with your hard clit. you cry out, potential innocent bystanders be damned. so what if they hear you? let them see you like this, trembling legs spread for their god as you ride his long, slick fingers.

"shameless..." morax tsks as he lifts you just enough to press one of his leaking, throbbing tips to your opening before snapping his hips upward, his thighs clapping against y-

oh

wait

it's ebg week isn't it

ehehe...my bad

Crys wakes up with a startle.

The doe shakes her head and huffs, standing up. The sun is already out. Kazuha is not there.

She looks around a little restless, ears pivoting on every direction, her heart beating fast, the last remnants of a dream slipping from her mind…

A dream?

… a memory?

She can’t quite recall, it’s fuzzy at the edges, crumbling apart like dust or receding like the tides.

She only knows a familiar voice was reaching for her…

And a very warm feeling…

…

…….

…

No time to ponder much on it.

“Kazuha?” She calls out, starting to look for the white-haired ronin.

[femmmie]

More than enough

Read on AO3

words: 1.179

rated: general

excerpt:

Ian smears Anthony's face green, and Anthony squishes the last of the yellow paint into Ian's hair.

"Okay enough!" Ian commands. "Not the hair, dude. Never the hair. Respect the 'do.

"I'm sorry, I got a little carried away," Anthony confesses. "Let's get cleaned up."

They both go into the shower. Ian isn't sure. They have never showered together before. But then again they have never been THIS dirty.

Ian is over at Anthony's place. They are painting together, each making their own piece of art.

Ian keeps smiling while glancing over at Anthony. It's because his best friend is finally, after all these years, taking the time to enjoy something that doesn't immediately relate to work.

"You're getting good at this," he compliments his bestie.

"I think you might be right!" A proud expression forms on Anthony's face. He looks at his painting. "I'm developing a style, I think. I have found my favorite colors at least."

Ian continues his own painting. It's a car. A red Corvette, to be more specific.

"Did you see Amanda's holiday pictures?" Ian asks off-handedly.

"You mean the hundreds of pictures of the same ice cream shop, beach and her in a hammock? No I'm afraid she'll have to send more pictures to entice me to look."

They both laugh. It is late in the afternoon and golden rays of sunlight play in Anthony's curls. Watching that golden display, Ian's eyes widen and his brows raise just a tiny bit.

Anthony turns to look at him at him, and he quickly looks away. Back to his painting.

"So, how do you feel?" Ian asks the simple question, but a lot of meaning lies behind it.

"Yeah. Good. I feel pretty good. Struggling, but you know."

"Yeah, I know."

Anthony has been going through it mentally the last couple of months. After the sheer euphoria of reuniting as classic Smosh, reality is setting in for the both of them.

They are great friends, that much is true. But they have come to the conclusion that juggling New Smosh AND Pressalike is taking too much out of Anthony.

They have argued about it. Anthony insisted that he was fine, that he could handle it. But Ian wasn't going to lose his friend again.

"Please, Anthony. For once! Choose to put yourself first, for fuck's sake!"

And Anthony finally folded. He is taking it easy for now. Being in a few videos here and there, nothing too much. Only stuff he wants to be in.

"Oops!" Ian laughs as he spills red paint all over his hands and it droops onto the floor.

"Oh no!" Anthony giggles. It is such a familiar sound to Ian. Anthony has sounded like this ever since they giggled about poop in sixth grade.

They clean up the mess on the ground together but then Ian smirks mischievously and wipes his dirty hands on Anthony's shirt.

"Hey! Aww Ian you didn't! I'm gonna get you for this..." Anthony splatters blue paint on Ian, messing up his painting.

"My Lighning McQueen portrait!" Oh, it's on. They both squirt bottles at each other, getting increasingly covered in paint.

Ian smears Anthony's face green, and Anthony squishes the last of the yellow paint into Ian's hair.

"Okay enough!" Ian commands. "Not the hair, dude. Never the hair. Respect the 'do.

"I'm sorry, I got a little carried away," Anthony confesses. "Let's get cleaned up."

They both go into the shower. Ian isn't sure. They have never showered together before. But then again they have never been THIS dirty.

To his surprise, Anthony is already undressing. Right in front of him. "Come on, let's get this mess off!" Anthony says with a warm smile.

Ian swallows. He meekly tugs no his own ruined sweater. But Anthony helps him out of it. Anthony is topless and Ian involuntarily looks at the intricate drawings on his torso. He blushes. How can somebody look so maddeningly beautiful?

"Come on, Ian, I'll help get the paint out of your hair. I shouldn't have messed it up." Anthony looks apologetic. He also pulls off his boxers. Ian looks extremely hard into another direction, any direction but his best friend's big dick.

He undresses, there really is nothing he can do about it. The water is already running. He steps in next to Anthony. The warmth of his friend's body feels overwhelming and intoxicating.

Two hands massage his hair. He sees the yellow flush down the drain.

"There we go," Anthony says in a voice Ian has never heard before. A soft-spoken, intimate tone. That together with more massaging his scalp, and gently wiping the paint away from his neck, his shoulders, his back... Ian lets out a loud burp. "Cheers!" Anthony comments, giggling again.

Anthony gets them both towels and gives Ian some of his clothes.

"Black really suits you, did you know that?"

Ian looks down at his, or rather Anthony's socks. "Yeah, whatever dude..."

"I mean it," Anthony insists.

"Anthony are you sure there isn't something in the paint because you're acting weird. Showering with me, giving me compliments, what has gotten into you? Where is my best friend?" He says it as a joke but Anthony looks at him, concerned.

"I'm right here, Ian, I'm right here." His voice is low, urgent. "I'm never leaving you again, never."

"I know, Anthony. I know. And you don't have to keep proving yourself to me. Please, bro. It's kind of stressful."

Anthony’s lip quivers. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, every day... I just love you so much..."

"You don't have to be sorry! I'm so happy you're back, okay! I'm getting a bit tired saying it over and over."

"Please don't be mad," Anthony squeezes his eyes shut and collapses onto the ground. This startles Ian.

"Hey, Anthony, I didn't mean it like that? Hey." He squats down next to Anthony and puts his hand on Anthony's shoulder. "I'm not mad, okay? Just a bit annoyed," he jokes. They both snort a bit.

Ian sits down next to Anthony. "This whole thing is hard, isn't it?" He looks at his best friend. Anthony turns his head and looks back at him. Before Ian can look away, Anthony grabs hold of his chin.

"Yeah, it's hard. And I would do it again, and again, and again. If it meant that I got to sit here next to you."

"Goddamnit Anthony." Ian fights back tears.

Anthony spreads his knees so one of them touches Ian's thigh. He sighs. "I'm not okay, am I?"

"I'm here for you, no matter what my broski." Ian tries to lighten the mood.

"I guess "us" has always been hard. Easy and hard at the same time, you know?"

"Yeah." Ian knows exactly what Anthony means. That truth they both know but can't admit to. That truth is, they love each other. A whole lot more than just as best friends.

The dusk has settled as they both get up.

"I'm tired," Anthony mumbles. "Please stay with me tonight?"

How can Ian refuse that. He lies down on Anthony's bed as his friend falls asleep almost instantly. He looks at him. There, right beside him. His bro from Sac'. The guy who always got the girls. The guy who laughs the hardest. And the man who is his best friend. The wounds may not have healed just yet, maybe they never will. But Anthony came back and that is more than enough for Ian.