#can something not be because of my funny hormones for once

[hogoutorlogout]

sometimes i get the sense that some medical professionals are not terribly interested in providing thorough, quality medical care to transgender patients !

[bagofshinyrocks]

Period Comfort

Prompt: How the boys act when their S/O is on their period. [Requested by @weebumochi]

Featuring: TF141 and Los Vaqueros - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, and Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: reader menstruates, but no mention of genitalia; menstruation discomfort; nothing else i can think of, but lemme know if there's more

John Price

Always gets you water and a fresh cup of tea once your cups looks a little low.

Finds out what meals are best for someone on their period and focuses on making those for the week.

You two would make food with beef, eggs, and fish (if you eat them); spinach, squash, and brussel sprouts. All the nutritious stuff. 

And then he would make treats for you, especially dark chocolate on almonds or walnuts. Bring you bananas, berries, figs. You felt like ancient Mesopotamian royalty. All things that were also good for you, but were more traditional period comfort food of “sweet”. 

If you really needed to eat half a family sized bag of barbeque potato chips, he would fetch them and put them in a bowl for you. No questions asked. No movement in the eyebrows. A loving smile as he asks what movie you two were going to watch.

 But for dinner, he’s making something without so much… sodium.

Does everything he can to make your period easier on you.

Simon Riley

Doesn’t tell you that he knows you’re on your period, but that shit is on the calendar. Doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s all “oh is it that time of the month?”. So he pretends nothing is different.

He’s always so sweet to you, but he’s especially so when you’re on your period.

There are absolutely no gibes or pokes at the tender part of your heart. And whenever you’re most hormonal (which is also on the calendar), he might not tease you at all. Because one time he was a little snarky with you, and normally it would roll right off, but you were just a teensy bit too hormonal. And you got quiet. And your lip quivered. And he didn’t stop apologizing the whole day.

Any shows or movies he normally sighs about (but still sits down and watches… and gets invested in, the lying shit), there is no fussing.

“Alright, lovie, sounds good. Do you want another cuppa while I’m up?”

Need some quiet time by yourself? He has some errands to run, let him know what you want for dinner.

Just does his best to make sure you never feel crazy when you’re on your period.

Kyle Garrick

When the worst of your period comes in, it becomes the typical night in.

The dumbest movies that you two love. Dessert eaten before dinner. Favorite takeout and all the accoutrement available. A glass of wine or some other treat beverage. Matching pajama sets.

Kyle had almost fallen asleep when you massaged a yummy-smelling hair mask into his scalp, and then pulled a ‘oh I was just resting my eyes’. And then he returned the favor, painting a luxurious facial mask on you. Making hearts on your cheeks, then spreading them out. You were fairly sure he drew boobs on your forehead, but then smeared it out and insisted you were just imagining it.

You give each other manicures, and hand feed the other food whilst their nails dried. Kissing chocolate and strawberries off each others lips and chins.

Once his hair was wrapped up, he’s all snuggled up in your arms. The heat and weight of his body against your abdomen was soothing. And the gentle snoring of the love of your life.

Everything he can to make you feel comfortable and attractive in your own skin.

Johnny MacTavish

He gets up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run (like a fucking psycho). Once you wake up, he wants to go to the gym with you. Whether or not you work out, or just poke his butt because it’s funny, he wants you there. But not today. Your cramps, or just the general yuckiness of menstruating, makes you want to not leave the house.

So he hops on the internet, and finds the workouts, stretches, and yoga poses that would help you feel better.

The most gentle workout he’s had in his life. Stretching with the speed of tai chi, leaning against your back and chatting quietly.

Kisses wherever he can reach as you two figure out the yoga poses. Sticks his ass out as far as he can so you’ll poke it. Whistles whenever you begin a pose that’s even marginally suggestive. Waggles his eyebrows and maybe even cops a feel.

Double checks that you aren’t overexerting yourself. Stops for water (and kiss) breaks and asks how you’re feeling. What’s helping, what’s not helping? Time to stop, or keep going?

Helping with the physical and visceral symptoms so you’re more comfortable.

Alejandro Vargas

If he can, he’s clearing the schedule for the worst day of the week. Does grocery shopping and laundry before, so there is essentially nothing to do that day when Mother Nature is curb-stomping you.

Spoils you with a long lie-in. The sun has long since come up by the time you wake up to massages and kisses.

You join him for breakfast and a quick rinse off shower, and then you two crawl right back into bed. Leaning against him as he kneads the skin and muscles of your abdomen or back, a movie or the radio as ambient noise.

Maybe you fall back asleep. Maybe you watch an entire TV show. Maybe you putter about and do some light home-making. The goal is that you are fully rested.

I bet science says that you can’t “catch up on sleep”, but it’s still nice to have a day where you sleep for most of it. Especially when it’s curled up in bed with your sweet lover. His hands on you for the entire day, closely followed by his lips.

His whole body squeezing you tight when you try to leave, and wrapping around you again once you return.

Just physically reminding you of how much he loves you.

Rodolfo Parra

Once he sees a menstrual product wrapper in the bathroom trash can, he’s off to make the most professional grocery run you’ve ever seen.

Knows exactly which products you use, and checks which are low. Buys the right medications or products. The snacks that you love (that won’t betray you later with a stomach ache), and the little drink treat that’s for special occasions. 

You swear that he hears the crinkle of a wrapper in the bathroom and marches to the store.

Puts the groceries away while you’re finishing up the breakfast dishes and then offers you the little beverage and maybe a treat.

He guides you to the couch or back to bed, sidling up next to or behind you and kisses you deeply. Arms roaming and then settling in a way that keeps you as close as possible. Pressing against you as if you could become one.

Cuddles in the way that is most comfortable, whether you’re in his lap or laying down. Kisses you all over. Hand feeds you until you’re giggling too hard.

He never wants you to run out of the supplies you need, or feel any less sexy while menstruating. Because you are always so sexy to him.

Posted: 2024 January 7

[daenysx]

omg ! for the sad girl sleepover i have a blurb!!! how ab james w a pregnant!reader whos just super emotional, crying at everything , being mad at him then crying bc she feels bad :( ik hed be so patient !!!

"what-" james panics at the sight of you crying. "why- what happened?" he asks.

you hold your phone with almost trembling fingers. "look at this video, jamie." sniffling. "she's washing a kitten, just look at its eyes. it looks so small, so sweet."

james lets out the breath he doesn't know how long he's been holding. your one hand stays on your swollen belly casually and you watch the kitten video again with sad eyes. you're actually crying for a cat.

"angel." he really should stop panicking. "i thought something bad happened to you."

your teary eyes get huge as you look up to him. "not to me. to this kitten. she says she found it on the street and it probably lost its mother. it's so sad, jamie."

james smiles uncontrollably. do you have any idea how sweet you look in his eyes right now? he sits next to you, his one hand on your belly as the other one dries up your cheeks. "maybe you should stop watching these videos. they make you upset."

"i feel so swollen today." you say, huffing. you put your phone aside. "i was trying to distract myself, and that kitten was-"

"sweetheart." he stops you with a kiss on the back of your hand. "the kitten is in good hands right now. please stop crying over it."

"what, you think i'm crying on purpose?" you pout. "i'm crying because our baby makes my hormones go crazy, i don't know if you notice but it's kinda your fault."

"it's my fault that we're having a baby?" he asks, smirking.

"i mean-" you start, licking your lips. "you've done your part of it, haven't you?"

james looks at you with a fond expression. "i'm sorry." he says, rubbing your cheek. "i'm sorry for making your hormones go crazy and that you're feeling so swollen today, baby. can i do something to help you?"

he's gonna be a perfect dad. you imagine him holding your little girl in his huge hands, her little face pressed against his broad chest. she'll be such a daddy's girl, no doubt. oh, no. your eyes well with tears again.

"no, what is it?" james asks. "angel."

"you're gonna be an amazing dad." you say, your fingers catching the tears from falling down. "i'm sorry for saying it's your fault."

james gives you a nice laugh. he pulls you in his arms to give you a hug as good as he can with your belly on the way. "you're carrying our baby. i'll always be here for you, no matter what you say."

"i'm sorry." you say to his shoulder. "i promise i won't watch any more kitten videos."

"okay." he smiles. "that's nice. i'm gonna get you something to eat, why don't you pick a movie for us?"

"i'm gonna find something funny."

"good, baby." he stands up, kisses your belly once, and leaves for the kitchen.

sad girl sleepover ♡

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 "𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠"

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | A night after Homecoming has you reveling in the loneliness of your mind, but a drug dealer "meandering" his way by is there to solve your issues, especially after finding a particular toy of yours.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, minor comments about food, feelings of embarrassment, overthinking, mentions of mean friends/exclusion, loneliness, insecurities, and explicit sexual content: fondling, one spank, edging, orgasm denial, praise kink, sir kink, oral (female receiving), rimming (female receiving), anal play/fingering, use of sex toy (butt plug), and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Everyone be honest: do you actually enjoy my writing being this long, when little to nothing is happening? I don't know, I feel like I dramatically wrote this, it's kinda comical. Also, this is literally an entire Soundgasm audio I heard, but can no longer find- the agony! All script credits to them, I’ll try to link it once I do find it! And, @strangerstilinski is a lot better at Pinterest than me, so big, loveable thanks to you for the photos!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Cold and creamy, the slab of lotion smearing its enriching silk onto the skin of your shaven legs to prevent that inevitable itch in a couple days had been the only thing to smooth over your mind in the suffocating humidity of your bathroom. But even then, the sweetening smell of coconuts and vanilla couldn’t fully appease your feelings from the nagging reality of how isolated you felt from the people closest to you. 

Quinton Reeves.

For whatever reason, retired number ninety-five of Hawkins High’s baseball conference champions of 1983, still had the popularity chokehold of high schoolers, despite the matter of being into his second year of his community college career, while brandishing the golden name tag of the multiplex theater he hadn’t left since junior year. Something about giving away free tickets to greedy teenagers, that’s what made him “cool,” though utterly pathetic in your eyes. 

But unfortunately, in the eyes of swooning cheerleaders, Quinton Reeves’ “maturity” had made his Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road the main priority of your friends’ plans, after a grueling night of sore toes and itchy fabric that was the Homecoming dance. An actual celebration, where booze monitoring or debauchery dance moves couldn’t be policed by the faculty of your soon to be alma mater. Not that it was celebrating much, those green and orange jerseys adorned by the most admired only saw scuff marks with no touchdowns; yet another year of despair for Hawkins High’s athletic department. And yet, somehow a trophy-less trophy cabinet did little to sway the big egos of the prim and proper. Funny. So now, you sigh, basking in a night of a hot shower, trying to exfoliate and shave off that icky feeling in you that you knew resided deeper than superficially. 

Because while your friends drank the night away at Quinton Reeves’ Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road, you sat forlorn with a kitchen full of purchased junk food, a bathroom full of face masks, a bedside table full of magazines, and a television stand full of movies, because despite being planned a week in advance—after you conveniently got left out of Stacy Wither’s girls night—Quinton Reeves’ Friday night rager on Old Cherry Road became more important than your girls night. 

Softened skin bundled in cozy clothes, you watched your saddened reflection in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, where a squeaking wipe to the condensation allowed for pellets of water to race down the glass. Beneath the mask of green gunk that claimed to heal those pesky bumps of raging hormones on your skin, you could still see the dampen expression of your sorrow face, where you recollected the comments of your so-called friends. 

Buzz-kill. Bummer. Borning. Rummaging through the entirety of the B section of Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Thesaurus just to really cement the fact that they wanted nothing to do with your itinerary-riddled girls night. 

You splashed your face with the wake of lukewarm water. To hell with them; your skin was glowing, body freshly cleaned, your scalp free from any solid itch of hairspray, fingers and toes wiggling with a beaming white polish, and you had an assortment of snacks to rake through while ogling at Ferris Bueller, watching him have a day off with his friends who actually care. Perhaps you should take a stroll through Chicago, and catch a Cubs game. It wasn’t anything but a state away. And if you got lucky, maybe you could find Sloane Peterson’s fringe jacket in your stack of magazines. 

Surely, Ferris Bueller was cuter than any twenty-one-year-old who still spent his weekends partying with high schoolers. 

Christ, a parked full driveway. 

Eddie, four hundred seventy-six dollars richer, Munson craned his neck, ticking his tongue at the scale of which your house stood at 11:28 p.m on this Friday night. One hesitant sniff at his shirt, and he regretted the decision of not moving Samara Lawson away any faster, when the drunken girl attempted the flirtatious endeavor of receiving that twenty-five percent discount you were always accustomed to. 

Perhaps her revenge on the dealer, himself, after he politely declined with a harsh line to his lips was forcing him to reek of booze after a tight hug to ensure her chest squished against his just enough that Samara Lawson surely thought it would deduct a dollar or two. It didn’t. 

“Fucking two stories, man…” Eddie sighed, kicking the mulch of your mother’s meticulously cared for garden, as the bricks of your home seemed to drag onward for an eternity from his five foot eleven stance (six feet if you’d ever ask). 

A towel in hand, you gently dabbed away the excess water from your face, before you turned to serums and creams to gently massage your face with, hoping to ease any worry lines your friends have cost you in the wake of disappointment. Mint flavoring of stringy floss proceeded to invade your mouth, as you plucked all you could from your teeth to triumph through your oral hygiene care. Not that it mattered, though, a party-sized bag of Doritos was awaiting its fate of being empty by the time Pretty in Pink began its course of replay. 

If Eddie Munson knew anything, it was the probable fact that your bedroom could be found from the dimly lit window on the left wing of your home, where white curtains cascaded against a potential entry to your room. In the instances in which Eddie found himself in the weekly routine of taking three steps up porch and three knocks to the door, the stained glass that adorned your front door for decorative reasons always allowed him the warped sight of you appearing from the left side of the second story, before bouncing down the stairs like Yasmin Bleeth running down Will Rogers State Beach. 

And for the brief one minute and thirty-seven seconds it took to exchange the half ounce for fifteen dollars—prolonged extensively by Eddie Munson’s attempt at small talk—Eddie lavished in the bubble that was your true element. While cheer skirts became devastatingly enticing when you wore them, something about pajama pants that pooled at your feet for the entirety of being too long with sweaters that swallowed your tiny hands in comparison to his truly had his heart cinching with the tight grasp of utter devotion. 

It became the only thing that inveigled him to make the thirty minute trek across town to deliver your demands. What a surprise it was when Chrissy Cunningham revealed the dealer, himself, never offered her home visits, after too many complaints of making the eerie journey through the woods to receive her goods had you suggesting to your friend to give him the call you did weekly. But a groaned out, “You know he’d never do that; his whole ‘I don’t come to you, you come to me’ policy,” had you perplexed in the face. He had never disclosed you of that. Huh.

“For the love of God, please just let me be right for once.” Eddie huffed, as his calloused hand collected itself around the gutters that followed alongside your home, which provided him the leverage to denounce the white window sills with dirty scuff marks of Hawkins’ muddy winter sleet. 

How more pathetic could you possibly look? A frown had permanently etched itself onto your face, where a fake smile was once plastered before Lucy Coleman informed you of the fact that no one was showing up to your scheduled ‘Homecoming’s Coming Home Girls Night.’ God, you even had a cute name for it… ish. 

Freaking twenty-one-year-old multiplex ushers. 

Giving up the bathroom for the night, a trip following the banister down to the kitchen became a dangerous game of stuffing your feelings with carbohydrates you’d eventually come to regret the next morning. Your father had made the safe assumption to ignore the ruckus of opening cabinets and crinkling wrappers that appeared behind him from the living room, because eighteen years of living with you had taught him you were always one, “are you okay?” away from exploding from the angsty teenage rage that bubbled inside you. By tomorrow, you’d eventually come to him with a sadden face and wails of a hurt tummy, and just like you were seven, he’d be there to comfort you with a hearty breakfast and open arms. 

Littered posters, rumpled white sheets of little red heart, a vanity besmirched with powders and glitters, and a heavy resemblance of laundry piles that mimicked his bedroom floor—saved from the blacks and denim, only colors and lace this time. If, for whatever reason, this wasn’t your bedroom, Eddie Munson would be heavily concerned. 

With an artillery load of snacks on hand, your father followed your huffy stomps through the living room and up the stairs. “Wanna save me some?” A joke terribly unappreciated on your part, as a scowl met his lighthearted smile.

Your bare toes dug into the carpeted steps to solidify your displeased mood. A little dramatic, and unserious, but only targeted to your flippant father, who found amusement in the little jabs that made your face crease like your mother’s. The actual hurt and betrayal that lingered within was still discreetly churning in your belly with the fretful epiphany of how lonely your friends made you feel. 

But as mentioned, that’d be a discussion for tomorrow morning, when you could cry into your scramble eggs. 

One step at a time, the view of your bedroom door—cracked, and flooding the hallway with the mustardness of lamps—came to light, as a guttural sigh left your mouth as a “fuck you” to the stir of messes you felt, pounding at your head with no mercy, as if the shitty friends you had wasn’t enough, they were capable of making you feel horrible, awful things. 

Yeah, fuck yo- “Ah!”  

Bags of chips and wrappers of candy avalanched down the doorway of your bedroom, as Eddie Munson’s already large eyes rounded to the ghastliness of yours, hunched and frozen in stance of that of a burglar, and suddenly Eddie was coming to the realization of how utterly creepy he looked.  

“Sweetpea?!”

“Hon?!”

A call from the living room, a call from your parents’ room; your mother and father’s voice boomed with concern of what could be another dramatic yell fueled by teenage temper or actual danger. But Eddie’s surrendering hands, with a look of desperate apologies that had to go unspoken unless he wanted to be caught by your parents had made it apparent that Hawkins’ local drug dealer who wandered about with a gaudy jewelry and hair you’d like to braid had little to offer when it came to harm. 

Also, the way in which his fretful finger was comically signaling to his prized lunchbox had let the understanding of business ventures finally hit you. 

“S-Sorry! Um, giant spider!” Stifling their consternation of any imminent danger, Eddie cracked a tiny smile, before treading down to your feet to pick up what he caused to drop in the first place. 

One after another, your pile of snacks were now being examined under the scrutiny of your drug dealer. “Friends coming over for a sleepover or somethin’?” 

Insulting. “No.” You mumbled with a particular sass he hadn't usually been indulged in, that had him quietly chuckling. God, him and your father would get along. 

Sat aside on your bedside table to be feasted upon when cute, unwarranted company couldn’t witness the giant devour, you quietly closed your bedroom door, and stood watching Eddie Munson awkwardly swing his arms. 

“You’re probably-”

“So, um-

“Oh, I’m sorry, go ahead.” He encouraged you with a tight-lipped smile.

You shrugged, and sat upon the edge of your bed. “I was just going to ask why you snuck into my room… at this hour.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “No, yeah, um, I realize how weird this must be, but, uh,” his eyes gallivanted to the notable furniture that adorned your bedroom—bookshelf, arm chair, desk—to avoid the knowing look on your face he’d have to be met with, because for whatever reason it was, it was now just painfully dawning on Eddie Munson how terrible of a move this was. “Well, I was just heading home, passing through the neighborhood,” lie, “and realized you weren’t at the party- Reeves’, I mean, you weren’t at Reeves’ party.”

And you truly gave the man, himself, little to offer with your subtle, “yeah,” that would force him to grab a crowbar to pry what little information he was willing to take for the night if it meant you’d just keep talking to him. 

“Just, uh, all your friends were there, bought from me n’ all, but, um, I don’t know, just kinda figured you’d be there with them since you always are.” He mustered out, as his eyes rapidly jumped about to scan the movements of your body. “And, well, didn’t see my number one customer.” 

And Eddie smiled, as your heart began pattering with stirring feelings that had your throat tightening with disbelief. “You came to check on me?” So softly spoken. 

“No, no.” Oh. How more embarrassing can this get for you? He might as well point and laugh in your face for being so lonely. “I-I, um, thought I could, uh, drop off your usual, y’know, squeeze in some extra cash.” Of course. “I saved you some.” Eddie patted his battered box. 

He watched your body deflate, and suddenly he wondered why he went that route, when it clearly caused the frown line on your face to deepen. “Right, um, thanks.” You sighed. Junk food and weed? At the very least, you could be high when crying tonight. 

One second to open your bedside drawer, but another second halted by Eddie’s voice that stopped your movements from stretching to reach for your wallet inside. “I- y’know what? Free of charge.” He propped open the metal lid to grasp onto the reserved baggie of the usual half ounce, before placing the lunchbox down to hand the substance to you. And he read you confused look quickly, as your hand hesitantly graced his fingers to take the goods. “Just, um, loyal customer, figured I should give back.” 

“Eddie, you already gave me a discount, I really don’t mind paying.” A promise to indemnify him for all that he already did. 

“Ah, well, you should, because I’ll be terribly offended if you do pay me.” He broke a smile that had your shoulders slumping with relaxation. “Just, uh, gotta let me hang here for a minute, if that’s okay with you.” 

“You want to stay here?” 

“Food, weed, and your company? C’mon, what kind of man would I be to pass up that opportunity?” And thankfully, that was enough confidence to have you shyly giggling before him. “Just a little break before I head home, I guess.”

“Had too much fun partying?” You teased. 

“Think I would’ve had more fun if you were there.” Oh, no. Pattering heartbeats, and now fluttering butterflies disrupt the peace of your tummy, as Eddie stared down at you. “Mind if I sit, uh, next to you, or over there, or wherever?”

You nodded to his request, complying by moving to the center of your bed, where you and Eddie sat back in the bundle of your rumpled duvet and pillows. A pregnant pause consumed over, as Eddie chose to linger in the silence to get a good view of the knick knacks that disheveled your room perfectly, and you admired the glow in which his profile became illuminated by. With bouncing eyes, it became the shiny embroidery of gold italics on the velvet sash that read “Homecoming Court” that paired cheaply with the tiny, plastic $3.99 Party City tiara that had dug into your scalp for the three hours you had to endure that night that caught Eddie’s attention. 

“You win?” He abrasively asked. 

“Uh, no.” You quietly answered. “Chrissy Cunningham got the bigger crown.” 

Eddie nodded along. “Figures.” He added. “She’s sweet.” 

It was your turn to nod, as the lips concaved into your teeth, while your fingers rustled with the plastic baggy in hand. “Yeah, she is.” 

“Kinda boring, though. Don’t you think?” He tossed his head back to meet his eyes upon yours. 

“Chrissy?” 

“No- well, not really, I mean Chrissy winning, y’know? Carver, too.” He clarified, as he watched your face with the suggestions he was making. “Like, why even vote- or hell, go to that shitshow if we already know who’s going to win? At the very least, throw in a curveball. Like-Like, Johnny Katowski.” Eddie laughed. 

“The kid from chess club?” You quietly giggled, as Eddie sat up.

“Yeah, him!” He declared. “How great would it be to see a kid like him winning Homecoming King, I mean, he may have bitched me out when I knocked into his lunch table and messed up his little figurines-”

“Pawns?”

“Yeah, pawns.” He laughed. “But the point is, why not give some other people the light, y’know?”

“Oh, well, Johnny Katowski is a really nice person, but I think he’d be too shy to enjoy everyone staring at him.” You quietly spoke, as you fiddled with your fingers under Eddie’s stare. “But, um, other people like you?”

“I meant other people like you.” Eddie smiled. “I’m too good to be king.” He joked, as you laughed at his cockiness. “I’m sure that dance would’ve been better if you had won, ‘s all. Just like the party.”

Your brows raised with gentle curiosity. “Oh, did you not have a good time at the dance?”

“Oh, no,” he waved you off, “didn’t even go. Dances aren’t exactly my thing, sweetheart.” 

You softly giggled. “You didn’t go to the dance, but you went to the afterparty?”

“Can’t exactly sell my supply on school premises, Y/N.” Eddie jokingly protested. “And even so, you went to the dance and not the afterparty.” Like tightening rope around your throat, your gut was hit with the simple analysis Eddie concurred. Though rather obvious, it somehow manifested worse coming out in the words of others around you who clearly saw the disconnect between you and your friends. Sure, a little more information would solidify it, but in the overworking mind of intrusive thoughts that made up your mind, Eddie’s phrase managed to concoct the notion that all of Hawkins High was now acutely aware of the fact that the ties of friendship with the girls closest to you was now being severed at the hands of no longer wanting you. “Hey, you okay?” His face lowered to catch yours, only to quickly move as you suddenly cleared your throat whilst straightening your comfortable posture. 

“Yeah, yeah, just a little tired, I guess.” You mumbled, providing him a small smile to end whatever prodding he was about to dig into. You no longer wanted it. 

“Oh.” He spoke. “Um, you want me to leave, leave you alone?”

“No, no.” You assured him. “It’s okay.” 

Another silent pause. Eddie Munson laid his cards on the table. A, he could cut the awkwardness short, and be on his way back home, sufficed with the fact that he, at least, got more words out of you than the usual “thank you, here’s your money, see you next week” routine, that he’ll be stuck with for the rest of the school year, until you inevitably leave for college- I mean, good for you, but then he would be stuck with a whirlwind of what if’s that would eat him alive, all while you got the live your prosperous life in god knows what city, where some dude who actually had to balls to make a move on you would get the honor of being called your boyfriend. Deep breath. Or B, he could just be a friend right now, because it really looked like you needed one. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” You slowly peered up at him. “I mean, like, you’ve always been kinda quiet, just, y’know, from seeing you around, but you seem a little more down now. Like mime quiet.” He smiled, eliciting a worn giggle from you. “Just feel like you have something to say, but you’re not saying it.”

“I…” you sighed, “it’s really stupid, Eddie.” Because suddenly sitting back with Eddie—whose personal life details were spread around town for the sake of small town gossip to enact who could and could not associate with the shunned of Hawkins, Indiana—your problems felt entirely too small. The last thing he needed was to be drowned by your superficial problems. The last thing you needed was to be judged for feeling the way you did, when Eddie Munson would give the reality check of a lifetime, and tell you to grow up. “Yeah, just, um, really miniscule things that I don’t, uh, wanna annoy you with.” You attempted to laugh off.  

“I asked you.” Eddie stated matter-of-factly. “You’re not gonna annoy me when I’m literally asking to hear you, sweetheart.” He chuckled in disbelief at your resigned behavior, baffled by the notion you could even believe anything about you to be bothersome. “C’mon, just say it, say it with your chest, just lay it all on me. Can’t do any good to keep it in, no?”

Eddie Munson had quite the knack of being a cute motivational speaker, as your giggles caused by his coltish self seemed to abate the linger tussle of depressive hesitancy in your mind. “It’s just… y’know, my friends, n’ all.” A hearty grunt of agreement coming from Eddie had you laughing through your words, as his face of distaste for your friends made it easier to speak. “Like, I just know they-they don’t want me- or, at least, it really feels like that. God, Eddie I rented out all these movies, bought some face masks- which are really expensive, by the way, and these damn snacks, ugh. Why-Why is some lame party more important than my plans, than me? They just don’t care! And I get I’m more quiet than them, but why does that mean I have to be left out of everything?! A-And, y’know, they always say I’m a bummer, but they don’t think about the fact that they make me a bummer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love shopping just as much as the next guy, but knit-picking everything that’s wrong with how a dress looks on me isn’t exactly going to make me an ecstatic person, y’know?!”

Eddie Munson used to be able to count the number of words you spoke to him on the fingers of one hand. And right now, that was, at least, twenty-five singular hands. And the thought had him smiling in the distance, when in actuality, that stagnant pause was an invitation for him to speak, as per a normal conversation. So it became that very smile that had your stomach flipping with ignominy at the fact that your overthinking thoughts were transpiring right in front of you: Eddie Munson thought your problems were laughable. 

A quiet “huh” was all he had to say.

“Well?” Your face, unfortunately, contorted with desperate validation. “You think it’s stupid, don’t you?” Almost accusatory, but in all seriousness, his lack of words were only cementing the scary thought that infested your head: you were the problem.

While deliberating, Eddie was really trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, he really was. But for the love of god, why were you allowing these people to have this much sway over your life? Three days ago, Courtney Keller, co-captain of Hawkins High’s cheer team, who conveniently sat a desk over in Eddie Munson’s English literature class thanks to Ms. O’Donnell’s tyrannical assigned seating, was overheard asking if Romeo and Juliet had been inspired by the 1978 cult classic Grease. Ah, yes, because William Shakespeare surely looked to a Hollywood blockbuster love story of a goody-two-shoes and greaser to write his most notable play. These were the people making you miserable?! You bombarded your letterman jacket with a bunch of tiny, obscure pins for crying out loud! Only you could make those god awful, gaudy, green jackets look remotely cool. Not to mention the fact that when looking at you from a distance—totally not creepy—Eddie could make out those funky, little doodles that indented the cover of your notebooks, before being thrown into your stuffed locker of knick knacks and stickers. Pins and doodles? Totally cool in Eddie Munson’s book. 

Okay, maybe not the most substantial aspects to determine one’s coolness, and perhaps, most wouldn’t look to the super, super senior to constitute what is, but the fact of the matter was that Eddie Munson, himself, thought you were pretty damn cool, so who the hell were some peaked-in-high-school nobodies to tell you otherwise? 

“What do I think? Uh, how do I put this?” Eddie reiterated, playing out the right words to confront you with. Though, Eddie Munson wasn’t necessarily one to speak so eloquently. “I think you’re kinda acting like a dumbass,” and your fallen face had him stuttering into recovery, “n-no, I mean, like, not that you’re dumb or anything, you’re really fucking smart. It’s just, I dunno, c’mon, you’re smart enough not to let them bother you.” He exasperated. 

“Like-”

“Like- sorry,” he interrupted, “I just mean that you’re so much better than them. Like, in every aspect, you have so much more going on than their puny life.”

“Well, according to them, I don’t even have a life.” You grumbled, knees wedging themselves against your chest to provide the perfect burial for your head. 

Eddie sighed, choosing to sit up against the headboard of your bed to get your smushed face to follow his movements. “Hate to break it to your sweetheart, but getting shitfaced at some boring party isn’t exactly the epitome of having a life. I mean, sure, maybe to the people who thrive in small town shitholes like this place,” and luckily, Eddie was able to follow along with your airy giggles, “but you and I? Hell, no, babe, nuh-uh, we were made for bigger shit than Hawkins.” He smiled.

And you smiled, too. “Like New York?”

“Like New York.”

“Ooh, or somewhere pretty like Paris or Marseille?” Your head finally perked up.

“Sure… I mean, I think I can put up with French people for you.” He joked, letting that genuine laugh fall from your lips so effortlessly. “Kinda draw the line at eating snails, though.”

You gasped dramatically. “What?! You’re telling me you’ve never tried Benny’s escargots?!” Yeah, you were way cooler than any Courtney Keller clone. 

Eddie’s head leaned back, as his hearty laughs quietly fanned your face, until the atmosphere was finally at peace with steady breaths. “I mean it, sweetheart, just gotta look them right in the eyes, use those big, beautiful things you got, and tell them to fuck right off.” 

While undeniably making your heart patter in your chest, Eddie Munson’s comment also served to become the catalyst for the most humiliating moment of your life. With your face turned away into your knees to shield him from the lovesick smile you were embarrassingly about to flash him, you terribly missed the single opportunity it would have taken to redirect Eddie’s devastatingly—for you—short attention span away from the beaming jewel that rested in your still opened drawer. 

“What’s this?” Pink and glimmering under the lowlight of your lamps, Eddie couldn’t resist the encrusted jewel lined with silver. And you hummed in question, oblivious to his findings, turning around all too late. “In your nightstand.” His hand inching closer and closer.

In your nightstand, in your nightstand, in your nightstand, echoing like a nightmare on repeat, as your eyes widened at the epiphany that Eddie Munson had found your- “Don’t touch that!” Your father’s brow cocked, wondering what movie it was this time eliciting dramatic reactions from you. But Eddie’s calloused fingers had already grappled onto the silver handle, pulling out what was beyond mortifying for you, as the lamp shade had fully revealed what concealed item contained that sparkling decoration.

“Oh, damn…” Eddie blinked, swallowing the nothingness of his throat, as a stir began to tickle his naval just below the belt. Both sets of eyes glued to the bulbous end of your plug, though Eddie’s incoming smirk seemed to differentiate tremendously to your gaping mouth of disbelief, where you sat frozen in horror at the events transpiring before you. Held like a priceless jewel, Eddie examined your personal toy with a devious smile to pair. “You use this? Like, it really goes up your ass?” 

Your internal being was screaming at the top of your lungs, all masked by the stoic features of your face that refused to accept the reality of what was happening. “Eddie.” You managed to mutter out. “Please, put that back!” Harsh whispers smacked him in the face. “Eddie, I- sorry, just please, I’ll-”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” His free hand came to secure itself around your knee, allowing that tightening breath to finally make its escape from the anxious hold in your chest. “Really, I just- it’s cool, just caught me by surprise ‘s all.”

“Okay, well, can you please just put it back, and forget this ever happened?” You pleaded, wishing him away for the night, hoping to never meet his eyes, the same eyes that made your butt plug fall under scrutiny. “I swear, it’s not mine- well, it is, but, like, I didn’t buy it, my stupid friends, ugh-”

Palms digging into the sockets of your eyes, you wielded this as your punishment, hoping the pain would come to mask the utter humiliation of Eddie finding your personal belongings. Uptight, they joked. Laughing with those giggles you learned to despise as you unwrapped the decorative paper that covered your birthday present. A book, a journal, sketch pencils, or plant, any and everything that could have sufficed as personal presents that would have been highly appreciated. But your friends seeked another personal route, with the jabbing comment of wanting you to “loosen up.” And so what, gag gift or not, the use of that particular toy came about as no one else’s business, because while the contribution came at the expense of the devastating realization that your friends were grade A assholes, there was no judgment in exploring yours- GOD.

“Hey, seriously, sweetheart.” Eddie’s hands came to pry yours away, letting his lighthearted eyes cast away the round, sadness of yours. “I just, y’know, didn’t think you were like that- or into that.”

“Oh, right, because I’m so uptight and boring.” You defensively rolled your eyes at him, before attempting to move from your spot next to him, but Eddie worked quicker to keep you in place.

He spoke earnestly. “Hey, no, don’t put words in my mouth, I didn’t say that.” Eddie sighed, jumping through the endeavors to show his action didn’t come maliciously. “Seriously, you know that, alright. Don’t think of me as being that kind of person.”

You sighed in defeat. “Eddie, this is just beyond humiliating.” And he desperately just wanted to take a hold of your adorably sullen face. 

“I don’t think it’s humiliating.” He smiled, of course, it wasn’t his butt plug in his hand. “Think it’s kinda… intriguing. L-Like, sexy.” Your eyes peered to his height, searching for the laughter of a joke you swore was about to follow. But Eddie Munson had never lost the hold of your eyes, piercing his through yours to strike that flame in your body with a burning match. 

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” His fingers continuously fiddling with your toy in hand, as his pants tightened at the mere thought of it being inside of you. What you did, late at night, to destress, finding an escape in the pleasure of being plugged, and played with. “Knowing what you like, testing your body, yeah, sweetheart, it’s really fucking sexy.” He slyly eyed you down, as your throat went dry under his dark stare. “Wouldn’t even mind seeing it.”

“W-What?” You stuttered out, thighs tightening to rub that aching thump brewing between your legs. “Like, um-”

“If you’re okay with it, Y/N,” Eddie took over for you, “I’d like to see how you make yourself feel good.”

Your mouth gulped like a fish out of water, trying to find the right words that were lost in the tangled disarray that was your overthinking mind, beating heart, fluttering tummy, and pulsating heat. But even that gnawing anxiety couldn’t deny you the unbearable urge to have Eddie Munson ravish you. “I- right now?” You spoke so quietly, nodding to the sentiment. 

“Yeah,” his tongue drenched his lips with one swipe, “let’s just say it’s for, uh, educational purposes, what do you say? Might even, y’know, get your mind off things. Relax. Feel good. Better than that fucking weed can do.” His ringed hand took a hold of the plastic baggie from your side to place away in your nightstand- inside, where you apparently held your most precious items. 

You swallowed the nerves away, allowing yourself the selfish pleasure of Eddie’s touch to wash away the heavy troubles of your mind. You want this. You deserve this. “Please?” So delicately spoken.

“Yeah?” He sneered. You nodded. Under his gaze, you made the move onto your knees to comfortably shift out of your pajama shorts, but your hands couldn’t move further than grasping onto your waistband, before Eddie made a quick call to stop you. “Woah, woah, what are you doin’, sweetheart?”

Your mouth opened to speak, but you froze in the awkward position, and eyed him worriedly. Surely, you couldn’t have possibly read this entirely wrong. “I- you said you wanted to see, like, taking off my clothes.” You meekly explained, as the burns of a suffocating bonfire blazed your cheeks with embarrassment. 

“No, c’mon, baby, you gotta let me be a gentleman first.” Eddie chuckled. “Can’t just start fillin’ you up without kissing you. Get over here.” He patted his lap. 

Your leg thrown over his had you seated on the thickness of Eddie’s thigh, as the skin of yours nipped at the graying denim of his black jeans. Plug aside, his fingers teased at the seam of your shorts to encourage your hands to place themselves on his chest, where he saw you hesitantly reaching for. Feeling the cracking print of his worn band tee had suddenly brought you a sense of contentment, allowing you to comfortably press your weight onto his legs, a sign of snugness that had him smiling at you lovingly. Goosebumps arose in the wake of Eddie’s fingers brushing down the sides of your thighs to connect with the creasing of your knees, finding the fold as leverage to bring you forth. 

Chest to chest. Nose to nose. “You gonna give me what I’ve been dreamin’ about?” Your lips grazed the oncoming stubble of his upper lip, just seconds of subtle, bare touches that were feeding into that aching desire igniting inside both of you, before fully securing your mouth upon his. Eddie’s lips became a suction, refusing to let you go, as his hand crept with security to the back of your neck. Your tiny moans melted into the kiss, with tenuous grinds against his bulge that bent the zipper of his jeans, all too deliciously for Eddie to handle, leaving his mouth drowning with saliva that slicked your lips with the taste of Eddie Munson. “Don’t have to worry about anything with me.” He murmured into you.

A hungry “mhm” was all that could be trusted to come out of you, as your hips rolled with greed, entirely fueled by his tantalizing hand that squeezed at any fat he could latch onto. 

“Everybody deserves a break, baby.” He cemented with firm pecks that left your lips raw with the sound of spit smacking to echo into your ear. “Just let me be nice to you- let me be so fucking nice to you.” You nodded against his face, nose bumping with harsh breaths, as neither of you could find the will to pull away. “Let’s- fuck, let’s get these off now, pretty.” Eddie snapped your stretchy waistband against your hip.

Tingles coursed through your legs, as you found the strength to dig your pedicured feet into the rug of your bedroom, and stand before him. His blunt nails gently scratched down your legs to invigorate you to declothe. Your bottoms slid down, pooling at your feet, before you stepped out to have your pussy on display for him. 

“Mm.” Eddie lowly hummed, enthralled by your mound, so perfectly decorated with the hairs of your pubes, and puffed between your thighs. “Damn, you standing here without your shorts makes me wanna listen to music.” He smiled.

Your brow pointed, gifting him the sight of your confused, little face that had him chuckling at you. “What?” You asked. 

“Y’know,” he snickered, “‘cause I wanna use your thighs as headphones.”

Your girlish giggled made him feel good about his awful joke, finding all enjoyment in seeing your hands cutely hide your face from the shyness of your nature, despite standing bare in front of him. “Eddie, that’s so corny.” You laughed. 

“But I got a smile out of you, s’all I care about.” His hands came to yours to twiddle with your fingers that differed from his thick ones, lavished in the loud jewelry he brandished. “So, uh, I imagine I gotta get you ready first, y’know, wet. Don’t wanna hurt you.” You softly nodded to confirm his words, suddenly feeling the tickles in your belly moisten you, as the realization of this actually happening was becoming truer by the second. “Somewhat of a handyman, myself, can grab some DW40 or somethin’.” 

“Eddie.” You flirtatiously chastised, mewling a whine of gauche, of which you had a real talent of making cute. 

He laughed. “Look, look, there’s no… romantic or- fuck, I dunno, chivalrous way of asking someone if you can eat their ass, so can I just eat you ass, sweetheart?”  

Eddie’s unabashed bluntness had your face burning with the intoxicating sensations of humiliation and want, brewing something nasty in you that always laid dormant under the unexplored aspects of your desires. Leave it to Eddie Munson to elicit that filth with the raunchy words of his mouth that already showed you just how sinfully good it could make you feel. Just for you, you hoped. But surely, Eddie had to have obtained these skills from some practice. And you wondered if that’s what you were. Practice for the next gal to have her world rocked. Or… just thoughts. Loathsome thoughts, the very things Eddie has dedicated to clearing from your pretty head, because someone with a face like yours, and being so sweet had no reason to suffer, as you did. Practice? God, no, you were just everything. So Eddie Munson made sure to give you everything. 

“Yeah.” You tenderly answered. “Just, um- well, I already showered for the night before you came here, but, like, I can, you know, clean up-”

“Baby-”

“Just so you’re comfortable with every-”

Roughed by heavy car parts and heated guitar strings, his all but soft hands felt so gentle in yours, with fingers dancing in the intertwine of a caring hold, flooding you with security, as his eyes without word complimented the contours of your figure silently but so earnestly. Eddie squeezed your hand. Eyes searching inside you through yours. “Stop, stop.” Your nervous rambling came to halt. “I don’t care. I know you’re clean, I wanna taste you.”

“Yeah.” You took a deep breath. A squeeze back to show love to his tough hand. “Yeah, okay.”

A smile breached his face. “That’s what I like to hear. C’mon, bend over for me, pretty, let me ease you from your mind.”

With the rumpled duvet sinking with the load of your limbs carrying you to the center, the air felt cold against the oozing slickness of your bare cunt, spreading its welcome with the curvature of your back with tits hung from their weight on your chest, as you allowed yourself the liberty of resting your head upon your pillow. The falling of Eddie’s creased sneakers against your floor appeared louder than reality when blood was pumping in your ears to the overworking beat of your heart. Naked and vulnerable, several deep breaths were taken to appease that anxious thought in the back of your head of what you might look like to a boy you liked so dearly, but nothing ameliorated you better than the waking touch of Eddie’s hand against your ass. 

“Fuck.” And suddenly his voice had a way of coaxing your hands to relax against the harsh hold of your sheets. His hands rounded the globes of your ass, feeling the fat wobble beneath, when a sharp spank landed on your right cheek, forcing you to suppress the whine with a metallic bite to your lip.

You mewled out your reprimand “Eddie! My parents are still here!” Having to whisper your frustrations, because now having a taste of what an Eddie Munson spanking could do, you wanted more, but couldn’t under a parental household. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He chuckled, a complete lie he muttered just to calm you, because forcing your ass to ripple with the slam of his hand would be nothing he’d apologize for. “It really is just so spankable.” Eddie’s hands worked to massage the brief sting of his abuse that had you quietly pushing back for more. “So fucking perfect, all soft n’ shit in my hands. Nice to just fucking grab, and spread apart like that- fuck.” Fingertips digging into the dough of your cheeks had pulled your pussy lips to reveal strings of sweet arousal, and two pulsating holes Eddie was desperate to fill. “That’s so fucking beautiful.” His thumbs came to brush the hairs of your lips, inspecting what he was about to cherish on his tongue. 

His soft proclamations had you smitten with a smile that would surely strike him to his knees if flashed at him, but you contained yourself in the soft fuzz of your sweater that pooled at your breast to allow him the pleasure of running his course down your spine. Just an exploration of your body, feeling all his could while he can, because while your mind had a funny way of overthinking, his did, too; Eddie Munson was slapping himself to right your worries, because one wrong word, one wrong touch, one wrong stroke of his tongue had him rampant in the head that you’d leave disappointed in his actions. Forever. 

“Eds.” But as Eddie Munson was there to ease you, you were there to ease Eddie Munson. You’ve nicknamed his status to something closer than drug dealer. And the salacious click of your tongue had you proving to wanting to push that status further.

Eddie smiled at the possibility. Your gasps were all that could be heard next, feeling the tip of his wet tongue browse your tight hole, as your ass swallowed him in. His mouth lathered you with the spit that once coated yours, though now preparing your asshole for the stretch he’d succumb you to, lips nipping at your hole that had you salivating your moans into your pillow. A feeling all too foreign for you, allowing someone in your most intimate area, and Eddie took it with such delicacy, manifesting all his love for your ass in the mewls he shoved between your cheeks. 

It quickly found itself to be something better than lubricating your ass with the use of your slick and prodding your hole with a curious finger. Eddie had managed to bring depraved sensations with the globs of his spit and the intrusion of his tongue, forcing itself to snake past the pulses that attempted to keep him out. “Fuck, you taste so good.” Pumps and pumps of his wet muscle tickling the walls of your tight ass, as his hands pinched your body in tight grips, shaking all fat in his vicinity to do everything to be consumed by you. 

“Eddie!” You hugged your pillow, suddenly feeling the fire of your warm sweater, as your ass danced along his face. “Want you to- mm! Want you to keep doing that!”

“Sorry if I’m takin’ long, baby.” Like spitting the taste of nicotine out of his mouth, a warm glob of saliva impurely landed on you, giving leeway for his thumb to massage your squeezing hole, before submerging in with your moans to accompany. “Just really wanna make sure you’re ready. Fuck, and, um, I know I said I just wanted to see how a plug works, but can I please eat at your pussy, baby, it’s right there.” God, he could smell you enticing him, seeing your pussy hole clench completely neglected as your asshole got the fun of his touch. 

“Yes, please, Eddie, just want your mouth on me.” Hips thrusting back to chase what left, leaving him with nothing to do but smile and ravage your thighs and hips and sweet kisses. 

“Nasty, little fucking thing, aren’t you?” He proffered no time to answer, giving himself what he wanted, face becoming smeared with the gleam of your wetness. Your pussy tickled under the scratch of his light stubble on your lips, the shoving of his nose in your sopping hole, and his tongue flicking of your clit igniting every prurient urge you ever tried to satiate on your own. 

That delicious tang of your cunt infiltrated every sense within him, surrounding him in nothing but you— the hearing of you, the sight of you, the smell of you, the touch of you, the taste of you. Your raw bud throbbed under the exploitation of his mouth, sucking the shockwaves to cause your thighs to quake.

“Too much. Eds- fuck me, I can’t, s-sto- uh!” Your hand reached back at an attempt to push him away from the stampeding orgasm you were too insecure to experience him seeing. But no matter the sting of your pretty nails digging into his scalp, nothing was stopping Eddie from seeing the sheer tremble, cry, and gush he could bring your body to. 

With his thick thumb plunging into your asshole, his free hand sadistically pulled at your cheeks to expose as much of your pussy as he could, leaving you to mewl at the stretch of your skin. The sole separation of your puffy lips had him moaning at the sight; such a tight pussy hole aching for something to fill it, needing to squeeze down to spark your greedy orgasm. “Shit, fucking pussy pulsating just for me.” His tongue buried itself inside, letting his finger fall to pinch at your vibrating bud, rewarding it with the tight circles of rubs that felt unbearable. “Taste so fucking delicious!” His words were barely eligible in the crevices of your cunt, but they provided all sensation to push you into your tonic state. “Cum for me, fucking cum!”

Fucked by his tongue and finger, you no further denied him, unleashing a gush of your spent to ravish his mouth, as your holes kept him in place with their tightening hold. If it wasn't for the fault of your parent’s bedroom being on the other side of your home, they would have surely heard the vulgar corruption of sweat and sex condensing the air of their daughter’s bedroom.

“Fuc- mm, uh…” Like a Pavlov dog, your pillow had soaked itself wet from the salivation of your chewed lips, as your legs shook under the grasps of Eddie’s hands. 

“Shhh, baby, I’m gonna put it in. Let me play with it.” When limbs went numb after orgasmic bliss, the dealer knew now was the time your body would accept it. Gaping from the size of his thumb, Eddie’s gentle insertion made the process enjoyable, placing a delicate kiss to your asshole, before your plug was indulged in the tightness of your ass. Now crowned with a pretty, pink jewel to top. And you mewled, softly shaking your ass to adjust to your decoration, trying to find feeling in your shaky legs. “God, you sound so fucking cute.” He rubbed your ass with groping hands. “Don’t let that get into your head, though, I’m still in control here.” Eddie chuckled. 

Despite falling limp, Eddie’s strength found no trouble in pulling you onto his lap, once he fell back onto his calves. While a hammering bulge was fighting back against the restraints of his cuffed belt, you couldn’t deny the fact that he didn’t feel the satisfaction of a bursting orgasm, yet your mind pondered on the reasons as to why his heart was pounding so profusely against your spinning head. Your hand splayed against his chest, as you peered up at him. “Are you nervous?”

Eddie Munson swallowed thickly. And ignored you completely. “You’re a really dirty fucking girl for playing with yourself like that all alone.” His hands pinched at the sweaty skin of your back, as your face contorted with the creases of confusion at his now unnecessary comment. “But… now you have me, though, right? Gonna play with me always?” Though, any confidence Eddie previously had speaking to you that way was gone under your scrutinizing stare, and you could hear it in the slight quiver of his voice. Because Eddie Munson wasn’t trying to dirty talk you. No, Eddie Munson was trying to seek your desire to want him around. 

And you gave it to him. “Yeah.” Free of any sexual suggestion, because Eddie knew you saw through his assertive facade, piercing at his vulnerability and choosing to accept it through the deep breath of relief of his nose. 

With his tongue swiping at the surrounding areas of his lips, you assisted his clean-up, thumbing at the gleam that coated his chin, subsequently letting the burden of his heavy head fall into your gentle hands. “Y’know, I see you a lot at parties- like, more than just us doing deals, I see you.” He cleared his throat. “And I’ve had this thing. This, uh, really big thing for you for a long time now, Y/N. A-And I know it’s your friends dragging you to these parties, but, I dunno, when I see you you just look so… meek, I guess, but like in a good way. Like, this whole elegance you got to you.”

Both you and Eddie stumbled into soft giggles at his boyish articulation, trying to grasp the concept of feelings from a man who’s never been graced with the excitement of committed reciprocation. But there was one thing for certain, Eddie Munson was damn sure trying this time. “Wouldn’t necessarily call myself elegant.” You chuckled. 

“No, but you are.” He earnestly protested. “Y’know, you show up, not even wanting to, not saying a word, just keeping to yourself, and everyone just looks at you- notices you.” 

In a town of Stacy Withers, Chrissy Cunninghams, Lucy Colemans, and Courtney Kellers, that felt like a big, fat lie smeared in your face. You brushed the stinging sentiment with quiet laughters of pain. “No one notices me, Eddie-”

“I notice you, Y/N.” He urged you to see, hands molding onto your body for fear of you not seeing what he gets to so lovingly see. His lips landed upon your cheek, brush-like strokes, dragging his affection to the canvas of your face, before a devout kiss seared your mouth to his. The swelling muscles of his arms squeezed to tighten around your back, savoring your being, and exploding when your sweater-clad arms mimicked his fervor around his neck, experiencing first-hand what was Eddie Munson’s first requited love. “Just to be here,” his lips spoke against yours, pausing to kiss away the ache that fell constant when your tongue wasn’t dancing upon his, “playing with you,” your mouths clicked with the slobber of his spit, ridden with the tart honey of your pussy juices, the same ones beginning to sog the stitching of his jeans, “just cracking that armor you got on, it’s heaven on Earth for me.” Your lips strung apart, as your thumbs soothed over his chasing movements, caressing the beating pulse point of his neck. But where you smiled, Eddie continued to try to kiss your upturn beam. “You’re not kissing me, why aren’t you kissing me?” He whined, trying to pull a pucker out of you. “Just smiling, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” giggling against his hungry lips. 

“As pretty as you are smiling, I need you kissing me, baby.” Eddie playfully admonished with a hefty squeeze to your hip in a puerile way of presenting his frustration. 

“It’s just,” late nights of perfecting the solos of various guitar sequences allowed your fingertips to skim over the delicate purpling of his under eyes, “I don’t know, Eddie, the night has just been really shitty, and you’ve somehow managed to make it a lot better.”

“Probably because I gave you one hell of an orgasm.” This time you’ll allow his refusal to accept the complimenting sincerity of your words, masking the mush of giddiness inside him with a comment of sex, because at least this one made you laugh in his hold. 

“And other things, Eddie.” But there you were to peel that mask away, and dump your kindness of wanting him all over his walls. “You gave me other things.”

A building appreciation for yourself. 

The cynicism of his eyes jumped hurdles to search for any fibbery he may have found himself trapped into, but you were so warm. To the touch, your skin sent his hands aflame with sparks of desire from the true benignity of your being. Warm eyes, warm lips, warm heart, working to secure a blanket of security over his shoulders from the sheets of coldness both of you have been offered by those who cared too little for your wellbeing. “Y/N, I need to tell you something.” His mouth moved without thought, as his body grew sore of ignoring the very thing it wanted: you. “Look, I’m just gonna jump right in, and say it, I want you to be mine- I want to be your boyfriend.” His eyes bounced around the brightening features of your face, creasing with lines to make room for the smile that enamored his chest. “But first I gotta prove to you.”

“Prove to me?” You gently prodded, mind working overtime to control your hands from balling the fabric of his shirt from uncontained excitement. 

“See, I kinda just got this thing in my head, y’know, that I gotta prove my worth to you-”

“Eddie-”

“No, I know it sounds bad, but really, it’ll just be for my own peace of mind.” He assured you with the earnestness of his voice soothing the concern you were about to tackle to confirm Eddie Munson was, in fact, enough. “I know it might not be the biggest deal to you, but I just wanna be able to take care of you- like, please you. Make sure I can make you cum.” He whispered into your face. 

You wondered where he was for the last five minutes, somehow forgetting the euphoria he had just pulled from you with the sole use of his tongue. “Didn’t- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but didn’t you already… just do that?” 

“I mean make you cum l-like couples do.” He bashfully iterated, eyes falling down, as if he hadn’t spoken the dirtiest things to you before. Though, perhaps, the beginning stages of what would blossom into a loving relationship had the boy suddenly at the age of fourteen, wondering when that momentous occasion of a first girlfriend would come. Having sex a year later surely doubled the probability, though Nicole Summers wasn’t exactly one that stuck around to find out. “Won’t exactly feel too great if the only way I can get my girlfriend off is by one single way. Let me prove to you that I can be good for you.”  

“Quite presumptuous of you to believe I would even say yes to you asking me out.” You’d a hundred percent say yes. 

Eddie smiled, before the strength of a sole arm entrapped you soundly against his chest, as his torso dropped forward to lay back against the plushness of your bed. Before a sharp moan could elicit the concern of your parents, Eddie brought forth his mouth to yours, once his bulge caught a steady rhythm against your buzzing clit. “Don’t think,” his hot breath concocted with yours in the heated makeout, “I got to see your tits.” Too neglected for your liking, your sweater found itself bunched under your chin, under glowing lamp lights that shadowed your peaked nipples. “Fuck me, pretty girl, just too,” a kiss to your valley, “ fucking,” a kiss to your breast, “perfect.” Eddie Munson swallowed your pert bud whole. 

“Mm, that’s so nice.” You quietly mewled, with polished fingernails delicately weaving through the tousled curls of his head, sweaty and dampened from a whirlwind of nightly activities. 

His hands groped at the fat, squeezing them together to tongue at your nipples, harsh flicks that had you arching into his face. “Just too fucking beautiful for this world.” He nuzzled into your chest, his nose flaring hard to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume, crisp and clean just for him to lose himself in. 

“Are you going to fuck me now?” A guttural groan burrowed its way out of Eddie’s throat, crawling forward to shove kisses along your cheek that had your head pressing into the softness of your pillow.

“Not gonna worry about your folks?” When the Indianapolis Colts saw a hopeless comeback of being seven to twenty-seven against the Dallas Cowboys, your father knew to save him the anger of witnessing another pass interference with a click of a button that blackened the screen; a definitive call for the night. The heavy steps of your father’s movements followed along the stairs, wood creaking with the shift of his weight to bring him amongst the bedroom doors of the second floor. One look at your door. As every night would go, a quick knock at your door would allow your father entry into your room, hopefully catching you in that green gunk of a facemask you’d like to smear on your face, to provide your father the perfect joke to hear that loving, “dad, stop!” But given the crotchety tone of your previous engagement, your father guessed he’d follow the the statement if his gifted ‘#1 DAD’ mug, and leave you for the night. Embarrassing you will have to wait for Saturday morning’s event. And off to bed he went. 

You hadn’t even realized your luck, allowing Eddie Munson to bruise your neck, oblivious to the predicament you slid by. “We can be quiet.” You pleaded, running your legs along his to feel the scratch of his itchy jeans, desperate to receive any and all sensations against your exfoliated skin. 

“Open your legs for me more.” Your thighs pried open to his body, sanctioning him the authority to squeeze all he could to bring lines of tingles to your core. “Good girl, feels so fucking good to finally be touching you. Your plug in good?” Sitting snug between your cheeks, where a sticky stream of your cream pooled down your ass, bringing an extra shine to the gem of your plug. 

“Mhm, feels nice.” You dug into the sheets of your bed, hips pivoting forward to the chase of Eddie’s thumb massaging into the dough of your inner thighs, hoping they’d make their move to examine your pussy with the prying of his curious fingers. 

“Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable ‘s all.” He mumbled. A hand invading the crease of your thigh and hip had him softly chuckling to himself; quiet guffaws of disbelief to the radiating fever warmth that was congenial from the suffocation of your meaty thighs.

Your bitten lips twisted into a pout. “Why are you laughing at me?” 

“Not laughin’ at you, baby.” He laughed. Eyeroll. “Just love that pussy heat, y’know?” Eddie callowly smiled, bringing forth a burn to your cheeks, as your watched wrinkles of titillation annex his face from the sheer look of your natural body. “I dunno, guess it kinda makes my head a little bigger knowing she’s waiting for me.” He became delirious on the hypnotics of your moving hips. “Fuck, want me to touch you, pretty girl?”

You were falling desperate under his command. Your nails dug their crescent shapes into his hand, skin flooding with the pumping veins from the stinging rush, an urgent call to have him finally give in. “Please, Eddie, been waiting too long.”

“Ah-ah, have some fucking manners first, not gonna get it that easily without asking nicely.” He tortuously tantalized with the coming of his hand beginning to lightly rake the wisps of your manicured pubes. A whine of despair was all he was met with, nothing but your hips attempting to gyrate his hand to your needy clit. “C’mon, don’t get all greedy on me, baby, remember this is about you, you’ll get it all eventually. Just need you to feel everything as much as possible. Let me just rub the outside; up and down.” The weight of his fingers interfered with the glue of your slick, now pulling at your pussy lips to showcase the rawness of your cunt, strung by webs of your syrup that had him itching to shove his tongue in once more. “And maybe, I’ll just take my finger,” his pointer, pushed out ever so lightly to tickle the wet skin below your pussy, before the rigid callouses dragged up to spark the nerves of your puffy labia, catching a rub to your erecting clit, “and touch you whenever I feel like it.”

Your breath became caught in strings of gasps. “Eds.” Purring with delight at the tease of his finger brushing at your impulses of sensation. “Please, please, can I have you?”

“Just wanted to see that sexy fucking smile you do when you get all excited.” Eddie admired, reveling in the twinkle that bedecked your face to light up from the touch of his fingers. “You are so fucking hot, man.” Mumbling to himself, his head refuting the belief of this being reality. But your body moved with the liveliness of feelings, your voice rang with melodies of harmony, and your smell infused his skin with the sweetness of sugar and oils; no matter how hard Eddie Munson’s eyes welded shut with dubiety, there was no dying the realness of a woman before him. “Wanna play a little game with you, baby.” 

“A game?” Your voice softly upped in review of him, as he climbed over with a heavy hand turned soft to pet your head with loving strokes that matched the brief attachment of his lips to yours. 

“Yeah, just a little one, nothing to worry about, just love seeing your face n’ everything.” He vaguely detailed, letting your mind lose itself to the softness of his peppered kisses. “First, you gotta any names you wanna call me: master, sir, daddy?” 

Eddie watched your eyes shy away from his brashness, adorably being unable to endure the heat of his words. “Um,” your teeth pinched into your lips, “I-I think sir’s kinda nice.” You timidly admitted, only ever divulged by the encouragement of Eddie’s affection. 

And he smiled against your lips, dragging his devotion to your cheek, temple, and forehead. “I think it’s kinda nice, too.” From you? Anything would have his body stirring. Eddie abruptly sat up from your body, his mangled hair briefly frizzing from the overhead reach of his shirt, that left his torso blank of any band tee he’d previously adorned. His abdomen came to light as a soft tummy lined with the harsh crevices of flexed muscles in a strive to show off a physique he thought would look best for you. But your warmhearted hand relaxed the strain of his stomach with a single stroke to his naval, sending shockwaves with every graze against his happy trail. 

In the midst of pulling away the worn leather belt from the clinking metal buckle, your words swiftly halted his movements. “You’re very pretty, Eddie.” 

His head bowed, soft laughter coming through the nostrils of his nose, as he shook his head with a smile that adamantly won over his face, despite a hefty attempt of biting his lip to keep it down. “Feel like I should be the one telling you that, look at you.”

“Would it be so wrong for you to hear the truth, too?” A smile so pure, it shot straight to his heart, causing a speed bump to the rhythmic beating of his chest. 

His cheeks darkened with vulnerability. “I- yeah, you’re really about to fucking get it…” both of your soft laughter mingled into the air, as he tugged the length of leather from his belt loops, “…and thank you.” His lips pressed to your inner knee, whilst undoing his pants. But then, he paused. Eddie Munson had not even the slightest idea of how easily you were able to undress before him. Perhaps, it simply fell down to the principle of the matter that Eddie Munson was already head over heels crazy about you before you ever spoke to him. He’d like to thank Chrissy Cunningham- or, actually, whatever stress it was she was enduring for being the sole reason why she went seeking him that fateful Friday afternoon. Now, he understands the grossness of that sentiment, but, truthfully, as an aspiring entrepreneur, the problems of your clientele surely become the profit of your business. And while he wasn’t exactly looking to better this capitalist venture, it did, in fact, lead him to you. Standing in the back, watching reddening leaves fall to the ground, under the guise of being your friend’s lookout. C’mon, that rotting bench hadn’t seen company for years, Chrissy Cunningham was merely weary of his presence and needed backup. But gladly so, as for once, someone’s uncalled for judgment allowed him the privilege of staring at their pretty friend. So excuse him for suddenly falling insecure about the look of his body. You were quite literally everything to Eddie Munson. Would he be for yo-

“It’s okay.” What? “I want to see you, Eddie.” You smiled so perfectly. 

Without notice, stirs of anxiety turned into fluttering butterflies in his belly. And Eddie Munson smiled back. Following the squeaks of your bed, he headed off, taking a hold of what was his pants and boxers into a tight grip, and finding the confidence to rid himself of any further clothing. Springing from confinement, seven inches of weight bobbed against his naval with a smack, as you relished in the sight of his cock with bulging veins that strained to pump blood to his scarlet, mushroom tip. Any concerns about the appearance of his area abruptly left his rampant mind, after witnessing the dragging pull of your plump lips opening for your mouth to widen in awe. Your thighs rubbing in heat, a desperate attempt to satiate that rubescent, needy clit that thudded with tingles from the mere sight of him naked. 

Yeah, nothing to worry about- in fact, quite a large inflation to his ego. “Decent enough, huh?” His lips twisted with a sneer. 

A deprived “mhm” moaned its way out of you. 

Rushing to place himself between the warmth of your legs, Eddie positioned his cock to sit heavy against your tummy. His large balls of cum became immersed with the slick of your pussy, as his velvet skin rubbed against your drenched folds to fully show you the length of his member; nudging it to your belly button, whilst the chaos of his pubic hairs titillated your thighs. “This game, baby, the only thing with it is that you can only cum when I tell you.” His eyes kept a close watch of your rippling stomach with every smack of his cock he caused. “You understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” You sighed, becoming antsy with the tickle on your abdomen from the sheer weight of his dick. 

“That’s the right fucking answer,” he darkly chuckled, “just gonna start playing with you, pretty girl.” His hand directed the fat tip of his cock to butt at your clit, forcing your hips to jolt awake with the electricity of pressure against your sensitive nub. “Just like that, you fucking like that, don’t you?”

“M-More, please.” You clawed at your bed sheets, stressing the material with every rub of his length against your cunt. 

“Nah, baby, gonna treasure this, take it nice and slow.” He agonized, sucking in breaths with every tense of his balls, as you brought pulsating tingles to his body by doing nothing, but laying pretty. “Fuck, you really do something to me, whatever you got going on is doing a fucking number on me, sweetheart.” Saying all the right things to you, his words shot straight to your pussy, making it impossible to hold back your soft moans. “Honestly, baby, not really one to talk about my feelings, I guess, but you- everytime I come by knockin’ on your door, I just get these nerves n’ shit. Gotta talk to myself, too,” he husky laughter pierced so sexily, “honestly, like ‘damn, gotta pull yourself together, can’t let her pretty ass see you like this.’” Eddie’s cock dragged through your folds, separating strings of wetness to marinate on your raw cunt. “And I just wanted to kiss you for the longest, wanted to be right here playing with this fucking pussy.”

“I want you, fuck.” You heaved, hips chasing an itch he refused to have you revel in. “Always want you, Eddie.” 

His cock spurred excitedly. “Shit, sweetheart, can’t say things like that to me, fuck.” Eddie’s tip ran through your slit, the swollen head now prodding at your hole, just a first glimpse of the stretch you were about to endure. “God, just having me lay here with you, seeing you, hearing you, touching you, it’s the greatest thing ever. Does that feel good baby? Like me teasin’ you?”

“Yes, sir, please, Eddie.” You hummed, trailing a high that was building too slowly for your liking. “Want more.”

“Mm, really like hearing you say that, love your pretty, little voice.” Eddie’s free hand dropped by your head, supporting his weight to hover over you, letting his unruly hair cascade a waterfall around you. “As a matter of fact, you should speak up. Tell me you wanna be a good girl for me.” So close, his cock was barely grazing the entrance of your cunt, all before tortuously leaving your warmth to dissipate that spark in your body. And up above, Eddie was enjoying the show of your contorting face of frustration. “C’mon, you can say it.”

“I wanna be your good girl, sir.” You pleaded, taking a grasp around his supporting wrist to help find your rhythm against his teasing dick. “I promise, I’m your good girl, just let me have it.”

“Yeah, you wanna be my good girl.” He mocked, aligning his slick head of precum and your arousal to your clenching hole that oozed more wetness. “Here’s the thing, you’re already mine, so who am I to deny you- mm, fuck!”

Falling chest to chest, your nails clawed up his back at the burning sensation of his girth breaching your seizing walls. Eddie’s forehead dropped to yours, as the mixture of both your hot breath confined what little space was left between your gaping lips. “Slow, slow!” You urged him, as his bangs crumpled against your head with a fervent nod to listen to your pleads. Every clasp of your cunt had him harshly breathing through his nose, fighting the onslaught of sensations that were subsequently bringing him closer to the edge far faster than anticipated. “Uh! Fuck, you’re so big!” Inch by inch, your body was giving way to the pleasure of his deliberate intrusion, welcoming him in with a warm hug from your cunt. 

Nearly lacerated by his nails, Eddie hoped the balling of his fist would defuse the overwhelming feelings churning in his chest, but suddenly being submerged balls deep into your body had his mouth spewing with all he felt for you. “Fuck, you really don’t understand what you do to me.” He whined against your face. “First time I saw you, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I don’t really get in situations like these often- hell, fucking ever, but you! I just had to do whatever I could to get you. Honestly, it kinda pissed me off.” Eddie breathlessly chuckled against your lips, driving his greedy hips to drag his cock along your walls. “Holy s-shit, fuck, how the hell was I letting some girl have this affect on me. But you’re not just some girl, Y/N. God, mm, you’re fucking everything.” 

Leave it to Eddie Munson to confess his feelings from the tightness of your pussy. 

“Eddie!” His cock found no trouble in abusing that spot within you that had your legs occupying his waist like a lifeline, toes curling from the rapture that trembled your legs. Your hands forced his head to your lips, swallowing each other's moans to consume the desperation of night. Where spit messily slicked your lips, a ring of cream surrounded Eddie’s cock that smear the wetness against your pussy. 

“Fuck, just wanna do everything for you.” His lips dragged against yours, bodies bumping with every pound of skin slapping Eddie caused with his dick. “Got your holes all plugged up, nasty, little fucking thing.” Pursuing that desperate high, your pelvis began meeting his with an impassioned gyrate; the swollen head of his cock bruising your g-spot, all whilst the tickle of his pubes itched at your inflamed clit. “You wanna come, baby- fuck, I know you do!” His stomach clenched with every squelch your pussy created under the squeezing hold of his dick’s continuous reentry. 

Licking and rubbing your cunt to a tender mess of cum and slick had your second orgasm of the night pummeling quickly under Eddie’s intrusive cock, and you were pleading to see white stars from the fucking of his body to yours. “Yes, please, please, sir! Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, you’re gonna- mm!” 

Sweat coated your rubbing bodies together, where you nipples abraded against his to have you wailing with all sensations, yanking that orgasmic string within you. “Squeezing down on my fucking cock, yeah, baby, you can cum, but not until I say so.”

Eddie Munson was torturing himself when his body stilled inside you, but seeing your desperate face twist into a crying mess was far better than dumping inside you within the first five minutes. “No, no, sir, please!” Your hips attempted to fuck themselves deeper onto his cock, but Eddie’s harsh hand imprinted itself to the fat of your curves, holding your down from any endeavors to cumming. 

“Hey, hey, listen, listen, sweetheart.” He took a hold of your jaw, forcing your eyes upon his. “Remember, you’re my good girl; gotta be good for me.” All along this is what Eddie wanted, turning your mind into deprived mush to cloud those overcrowding thoughts that hurt your little head. And he watched it transpire before him, seeing you desperately nod to his words, completely at his mercy with full trust to care for you. “I know I’m being mean, baby, but you gotta believe me when I say this will feel so good.” His puffing breath fanned your face. “I’m so proud of you, so proud of you getting all that shit off your chest, so proud of you letting me play with your holes, being this perfect, dirty girl for me. Now, I want you to come, okay, just gonna play with your pussy-”

“Ah, fuck!” Your body jolted under the tight, circling rubs of his rough fingers against your clit. 

“Sh, sh, don’t want your folks disturbing us, baby.” His devilish sneer taunted your face. “Just tell me you wanna come, okay? Say it.”

Your lips incoherently spewed out. “Iwannacomesir-” 

“Slower, pretty girl, slower.” Eddie demanded, with each pinch to your buzzing pearl fueling that plucking string of hot cum inside you to burst. 

“I want to cum, sir.” Your trembling hands secured his hot cheeks to bring him forth, as your lips whispered against his with tiny kisses. “I… want to… cum, sir.”

Eddie smiled against your lips, before planting a fat sucker on them. “Good, now shut the fuck up, and you better listen to me.” With your heads bound closely, all of the world became lost in the homey environment within Eddie’s curtain of hair. Where his two-in-one shampoo clashed with your coconut hair mask, and the smell of sex fermented the humid air of hot breath, Eddie began hammering his cock into your sopping pussy, with spurts of wetness jumping to souse your connecting bodies. “You are so fucking gorgeous.” He huffed. “Anyone can see that plain as day- so fucking incredible. You deserve the fucking world, deserve to be taken care of, and I swear, baby, I swear on my life to be that man.” Eddie moaned into your ear, his wet lips exciting every nerve in your body with hot whispers, that had you mutilating his skin with streaks of unbearable red. “Just feel me playing with you, pleasing you, only you, pretty girl- f-fuck! Tell me I’m yours, fucking tell me.” 

Your legs tightened around his backside, driving the heels of your feet to the tiny plush of his ass, forcing him deeper into your cunt. With your hands caressing the beauty of his face, you managed to find the strength to open your screwed shut eyes, and meet the round ones that were pouring desperation into yours. “You’re mine, Eddie.” Spoken so delicately from the hoarseness of your throat, whilst the filthiest actions were occurring to your body. “You’re all mine, Eddie. No one else. Just you.” Sealing it with a searing kiss that had him sobbing groans onto your tongue, in a heated mix with your whines. 

“When I tell you, cum for me, okay, baby? Ten.” His heavy hand forced a grip to your leg, hiking them higher for an angle unbeknownst to you, leaving you to squeal into the crevice of his neck. “Nine… eight… seven, love how fucking greedy your body is, almost there, my pretty girl.” Eddie’s balls were seizing with twitches, as his engorged cock was building up a hot load that was on the precipice of flooding you. “ Six, look right at me, five… four, wanna see your pretty face when you finish.” Too much pressure was mounting on your cervix, as your body began losing itself to the thrills of an impending orgasm. “Three… two, tell me you wanna cum.”

“I wanna cum!”

“Louder!”

“I wanna cum on your cock!” Singing it to his ears with cries of harmony had his body cramping with pleasure. 

“One, fucking do it, cum for me!” Your back arched with the snap of your orgasm, a scorching gush of creamy white invading his cock with unfathomable squeezes and squelches. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… f-fuckkkk!” A hose of his sizzling seed fucked itself into you with stuttering hips that had you wailing into his buff shoulder, nails bloodying his alabaster skin with reds of passion, as your bodies convulsed in the aftershocks of pure hedonism. “T-There you go, fucking ride it out, sweetheart, ride it out with me.” His muscles flexed under the intense explosion of his bust; beads of musky sweat falling down the length of his body to infuse the creamy cum that matted his pubic hair. “God, you’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful.” 

“Auugh!” Your fogged mind whined in the lost stars of white that flashed your vision. 

“It’s okay, my baby, just relax, you’re alright.” Eddie brought you back to reality, peppering kisses of adoration along your perspired skin, cementing every word he ever uttered to you in the heat of the moment. A brief cry of discomfort from his cock pulling out had him comforting your body with gentle caresses, all while witnessing the artistry that was a pearly concoction of both your hot cum painting the pink jewel of your butt plug with a filthy iridescent. “Fuck, you really are fucking mine, Y/N.”

Your soft voice ripped through the sounds of heavy breaths, as your body felt like waves of crashing water under his touch. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You weakly laughed. “Yeah, you can definitely be my boyfriend.” As if that was ever a question.  Your gentle mewls echoed into his ears, as his thick fingers made the move to smoothly twist out your butt plug from your needy hole, that felt the need to keep its clamping clutch onto it. Eddie swore under his breath, falling in love with the winking gape of your asshole. While a clean-up was surely at hand, your beckoning voice had him dropping your toy to lay by your side. His lips found solace in the company of your own, as he brought your sticky being of sweat and cum close, snug under the protective arms of his body. “Yeah, I’m your boyfriend, and you’re my girlfriend.” Eddie Munson’s lips upturned to a damning smile that had you clinging to his closeness for the rest of the night.

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! tokyo revengers x omega! reader (pairing: mikey, draken, baji, chifuyu, mitsuya, kokonoi, kakucho, taiju)

— how they act around their pregnant s/o.

tw : mention of sex in chifuyu's, possessive behaviour.

my masterlist : ☆

(this one is probably not the best I did, that's a 2nd version here😭 I actually finished it the day before and went to sleep, turns out I didn't save it so I had to rewrite everything from the start! I was less motivated, hope you don't mind the quality😭)

MIKEY

mikey is constantly on edge, you'll need to calm him down yourself because he sometimes can't control his reactions.

he's just anxious something might happen to you or your baby, he wants to be at your side all the time.

he is a bit nervous about being a dad but wants to support you with his whole being and show you that he can will take care of you and your future pup.

he is always trying to make you stay in bed : you don't need to do anything when your alpha can think and do things for you!

all you have to do is rest and stay safe inside the nest he scented for you.

rarely goes out too, and if for some reasons he does, he's spreading his pheromones like crazy outside of your home.

now that you're pregnant, your smell is even sweeter, he can't let anyone know there's a vulnerable omega without her alpha in this house while he's gone.

but everyone who even catches the smell of mikey knows not to mess with him. his scent is enough to send other alphas trembling.

if you thought mikey was clingy before, just imagine him when you're pregnant... absolute violation of privacy, this man is not letting you breath you have to blackmail him to make him wait outside of the bathroom.

he's sulky when he explains that he's just worried about you, so you make compromises and set rules.

but mikey is overall 10x softer now that you're pregnant, his scent has changed to fit your needs. it's more calming and he's constantly burying his nose at your scent glands.

DRAKEN

so so careful with you :(

if you think draken was sweet before, just imagine him during your pregnancy.

he is the perfect alpha and has every quality you would expect in an alpha, it's only natural he looks after you the best way someone can.

spoon feeds you!

now those 9 months are just more time for you to bond with your alpha ; you do everything together and draken assures you a healthy and stress free environment.

he's a really good listener and extremely attentive to your needs, he knows you so well he'll comfort you exactly how you need it.

and when your hormones are tormenting you and you take it out on a loving draken, you can't help but feel bad about your actions. so you leave the nest where you both were resting and put yourself in timeout.

as funny as it might sound, draken doesn't like it one bit and wastes no time going after you. he will scent you and reassure you that everything's fine, your alpha's here and he understands so don't worry <3

he will gently tuck you back inside your nest and prevent you from leaving once again by positioning you in a way that makes it impossible for you to get up on your own (especially with your big stomach).

wakes up first so he can make breakfast for you everyday and doesn't let you overwork yourself : he takes your health very seriously.

CHIFUYU

his pregant omega is probably the most well catered for omega ever.

chifuyu is just anxious about doing anything wrong that he studied every videos, magazines and books he could get his hands on.

now there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong.

always brings you new nest items, the softest and cutest plushies, comfortable pillows along with warm blankets.

everything has been scented of course. chifuyu loves your pregant smell, it's even sweeter than usual, but he can't stop himself from spreading and covering you with his pheromones.

he just doesn't want anyone coming too close to you, he has to put some sort of warning.

chifuyu keeps track of your meal and what you had for dinner. he's not the best but he tries and cook for you. he wants you to rest.

he makes the healthiest lunches, saying you and your baby need veggies to stay healthy and prepare yourself for the d-day.

chifuyu is in total bliss, he's always scenting you and cuddling with you inside your nest.

his alpha makes it his duty to have you satisfied. if you're feeling stressed chifuyu is quick enough to make the source of your anxiety disappear.

he's fast to catch on stuff like that.

if you want sweets or any snacks, he will bring them to you unless you don't have it at home. then he will run to the nearest store and come back with more than you asked.

if you ever feel horny, chifuyu is burying his nose in your pussy and won't let you rest until you're passed out from pleasure.

he's always gently reminding you of how proud of you he is. chifuyu's just so in love like that <3

alpha chifuyu is all about making his omega happy and showing how well he can provide. his omega didn't make a bad decision mating with him!

BAJI

if you thought mikey was on edge, baji is 10x worse.

baji's overprotective and doubting everybody's intentions, you could say he's a bit delusional at times.

and you can say whatever to make him chill out, he won't.

he is now your shadow and follows you everywhere. he doesn't understand why you would want some alone time when he only wants to protect you and make you feel safe.

absolutely forbids you from using perfume or any foreign fragrance : he will be scenting you every minute. that's just his instincts talking.

will try and do some cooking or cleaning to lessen your work but is honestly not that great in those fields.

this is why you softly tell him to give up and that you're happy to make both of your lunches<3

won't insist and instead you'll have guard dog baji sitting not far from you and watching you close just in case you need him to do something or to prevent you from accidentally hurting yourself.

he will also tone down his usual teasing. he doesn't fully grasp what pregnancy does to you, but he notices that you get tired more easily and that you're quickly carried away by your emotions.

he doesn't want to become an external source of stress for his already sensitive omega.

belly kisses!! baji is in love with your round tummy and can't help but fall to his knees and place gentle wet kisses all over your skin.

loves seeing you waddle around with you belly round of his pup. he's full of pride and you swear you can see stars in his eyes when he looks at you...

KOKONOI

another reliable alpha.

everything is on standby after you announced your pregnancy.

you're his #1 priority (not that you weren't already).

kokonoi and you are now attached to the hip.

he is a bit anxious about doing anything wrong but he doesn't let it show, he can't let his emotions contaminate you or the baby.

he is very strict with himself and doesn't allow himself to display a single sign of weakness: he wants to be strong and reassuring during your pregnancy. kokonoi knows it's not easy and wants you to rely on him as much as possible.

also, anything you want is yours in a minute. be it a massage, food, nest supplies and anything you ask.

kokonoi can't let his perfect omega needy, as her alpha he has to fulfill every one of her wishes.

understands if you want to go out for a bit, you can't stay inside for 9 months... but kokonoi is watching everyone walking past you with a death stare.

only lets his guard down when you're back inside, the only place he deems safe enough for you to be.

he is so dedicated to you, nothing's too much when it comes to you.

he's spending without counting and wishes to make the both of you the happiest people on earth.

now kokonoi will have to protect and care for 2 persons, his past makes him extra aware of the unfairness of the world, this is why he'll work even more. he doesn't want any of you to lack anything.

thus you could say he's a bit more overprotective than usual.

his hand is always on your belly, would let his hand fusion with your stomach if he could.

he just loves your round belly so much! and you scent... kokonoi isn't sure when he has smelled something that good, he's constantly burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

KAKUCHO

can something even go wrong when kakucho is your alpha?

he's so thoughtful you thank god every day he's your alpha. will bring you everything you need before you even ask for it.

if you need fresh air, kakucho is immediately wrapping you up and checking on his phone which places are the calmest and most pleasant. he knows the importance of your mental health during those months and won't prevent you from doing anything.

those dirty alphas eyeing you up during you daily walks better beware! alpha kakucho is the definition of "don't worry love, I can fight".

will take down anybody who tries to spoil your stroll. his omega should be able to do anything without being disturbed.

kakucho is the best at dealing with your mood swings : never complains and never brings it up again once it's over. he won't make fun of you ever and will instead try his best to appease you.

often does it by showering you with his pheromones. otherwise he has you tucked in his arms, pressing your head to his scent gland at the crook of his neck.

he knows his smell calms you down and you're so grateful to your alpha for being so understanding <3

kisses everywhere and anywhere!

grabs you by the waist and makes you turn, makes you laugh and brings you flowers and others gifts everytime he comes home : his only goal is to see you smile.

seeing you pregant reminds him of just how much he loves you and how happy he is to have his own little family with you.

MITSUYA

mitsuya is ready.

nothing can go wrong when mitsuya is your alpha.

probably has the biggest breeding kink out of all the list here. he loved seeing you take care of his sisters like a good omega would, so your pregnancy was a dream come true.

goes to parenting lessons with you and reads ton of magazines about the subject.

mitsuya can't and won't fail as a father.

you can rest assured when mitsuya is here, he's not leaving anytime soon.

has temporarily changed his work place, he's now doing everything at home and won't hesitate to drop everything if you call for him.

he wanted to be able to satisfy any of your cravings without delay. plus, his instincts have been going crazy since you got pregnant and he can't focus at all if he isn't sure you're doing perfectly well.

he has to keep an eye on you.

you can't go out, mitsuya is here for that. he can't put you in any danger, that's why he will quickly do any errands or buy anything you ask.

everything is homemade with mitsuya. the massages, the delicious and healthy meal he cooks for you along with the clothes he's been sewing are all from your lovely alpha mitsuya.

that's his way of showing you he can and will take care of the both of you without any doubt.

alpha mitsuya with a pregant mate is more possessive than usual.

he is currently working on plushies that he can scent and put in your nest.

he knows your nest is even more of a sacred place now, that's why he takes great care of it and vows to make it the most comfortable and familiar nest for you and your future pup.

constantly tells you how proud he is that you're carrying his pup and that you're doing so well.

will start purring a bit as well as scenting your scent glands any time you're cuddling, he knows how stressed you can get :(

TAIJU

if you thought taiju was a menace to society before, your pregnancy triggered something in him.

he's now a danger for anyone whom you crosses path with.

that's why you'd rather stay inside with him, he just sees everyone as a potential threat that you both can't go out like a normal couple.

but that's fine though, taiju considerably softened and is at your beck and call. all of black dragon is yours to use, whatever the reason.

kokonoi & inupi were ordered to keep and eye on you and secure the area around your house so that nobody suspicious can even come close.

it's not that taiju can't defend you himself, he just doesn't want to put you through unnecessary stress.

that would mean he has to leave your side for a bit and he can't do that in your state. you need proper care at all time.

taiju feels a great sense of pride and accomplishment watching you walk around full of his pup.

he's always dreamed about growing his family, nothing matters more in his eyes.

you are what has the most importance for him, and now that his cute little omega is pregant he's in complete bliss.

his behaviour has considerably changed to fit your needs. he can't let any negative emotions go past your radar, he knows how emotional pregnancy is making you and he doesn't want to make you anxious.

isn't a fan of pda but it's the only thing he's been doing since you announced your pregnancy.

lets you do anything to him. he's like a gentle bear who is threatening only to others.

taiju is just so in love. his omega is so perfect, all sweet and docile. your pregnant body seals the deal and you won't ever leave him now. this thought alone puts his mind at ease.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

More GirlDaddy Daryl cause the love I have for him is actually not funny

I thought of a name a longgg time ago for his daughter that I think is super cute, It was gonna be Darylina but then I thought how Daryl would hate that THEN I thought how DARYL would make CAROL the grandma so obviously Carolina is the perfect name

She’d be called Lina for short, Carol as a joke and Carolina when shes in buttfuck trouble (which teenege Lina gets into a lot of but shes her mothers child)

I feel like she’d be a total badass, a good balance between Daryl badass and Y/n badass. She’s a hardcore daddys girl so by age ten she was already mastering the Dixon way of hunting.

“Ya got light steps naturally, let’s keep em tha’ way kiddo”

“Okay daddy!”

Lina would be more like Daryl as a kid, and I feel like Daryl was a rowdy kid.

She practically bounces off the walls from the assigned hours of too early in the morning to too late in the evening. Getting jumped on before he gets out of bed wasn’t exactly on Daryl’s bucket list (but he wouldn’t have it any other way)

Yes, she constantly climbs onto her father like a cat. No, there’s nothing he can do to get her squealing giggling frame off him. His only option is to accept his fate and play 21 questions directly over his shoulder.

“Lina! M’working, get offa me”

“Wha’cha workin’ on?”

“Stuff”

“Wha kinda stuff?”

“Adult stuff”

“Wha kinda adult stuff?”

Daryl uses her whenever he works on his bike, and his massive fingers can’t fit to reach something. She feels very important when her tiny fingers reach it, and she lets Daryl know how very useless he is.

“Daddy yer not gonna be able to fight if ya can’t fit yer fingers in stuff”

“Really? Damn. Good thing yer gonna protect me”

“No daddy, yer have to protect yerself because m’gon go protect mommy”

“Tha’s good idea, mommy can’t protect herself”

“But mommy can fit her fingers in stuff”

“Then why ya protectin’ her ‘nd not me?”

“Because I like mommy”

“I like mommy more”

Oh maybe I should mention they bicker over EVERYTHING. And guess who has to be the tiebreaker?

“Babe! Tell this rat tha peanut butter is indefinitely better than tha jelly!”

“Daryl she doesn’t even know either of those are and everyone knows jelly over butter”

“See mommy is always right!”

“Are ya cheatin’ one me??”

There’s a very strong love-hate relationship between him and teenage Lina, especially when hormones start to change and tempers flare.

Once again, Lina is a mini Daryl and Y/n, so when she shoots back during arguments, she’s aiming for the head.

“For tha last time, no. Too dangerous and m’not gon be able ta keep an eye on ya. End of discussion, quit pushin it”

“M’not a fucking kid anymore. I didn’t want ya keepin’ a damn eye on me in tha first place?!”

“Gettin real ballsy there little girl, I said wha’ I said”

“Ballsy? Little? Clearly I got more balls than ya since yer too fuckin’ scared to take me”

“Carolina. Wherever this is comin’ from, cut it the fuck out.”

“I’m gonna cut you the fuck out.”

“Scuse me?“

“Good luck on the battlefield when ya can’t even fuckin’ hear”

After every hard slam of her door, Daryl is left to stand in the deafening silence feeling like an utter failure.

Obviously, he gives her the time to decompress before going to apologize, this time with his crossbow in hand.

The door creaks slightly open before all the way, however there’s no little girl that comes running out into his arms. She stands tall in front of him, mirroring his expression of anxious discomfort.

“Ya stay close, no matter what. Understand?”

“Okay”

Daryl hands her the crossbow.

“Look- I know yer not a kid, but yer still my kid. Yer gon always be m’little girl an yer growin’ up scares tha livin’ shit out of me”

“Ya’ve killed people.. isn’t tha’ scary?”

“Wha’s scary tha’ if I didn’t kill ‘em they might’ve killed ya”

Lina hugs him tearfully.

“M’sorry fer arguin’ with ya”

“Nah, m’sorry fer not givin’ ya a chance”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

(Daryl’s inner child definitely gets healed each time after apologizing and talking it out. He breathes so much better and just feels so much better AUGH my baby)

[live-laugh-lenney]

loving the dad george content but what would arthur be like as a dad??

i was waiting for this to come in, hahaha. :')) we need to go into more detail on this trope like we did with girl-dad!george. i think it's a desperate need, too... i can already feel my mind racing with ideas...

"how?"

"arthur, for god sake, do you really need me to answer that?"

he gulps back the thick lump in his throat that sat low, head aching and he felt constricted and tight with the headphones that hung around his neck, the main channel video he was editing going long forgotten about on his screen. and she can see the colour of his cheeks vanish. and she was thankful he was sat down because she was certain he would have passed out once she told him the news.

she didn't want to take the test at his place... but it was a burden on her mind as the pregnancy test box sat in her handbag, hanging on the back of the chair tucked underneath his desk in his bedroom, and she just needed an answer. having felt sick for the last few weeks, waking up feeling nauseous and unable to keep her breakfast down her, it was either a serious matter of needing a doctor to take a look at her or she had fallen pregnant... she wanted it to be the former but she had a gut feeling it was the latter.

"but-"

"i know. we were careful."

and they always were.

he had a stack of condoms in his bedside table for when they got a little carried away. she was on the pill.

except that one night, coming home from a party thrown to celebrate a birthday, where they stumbled into his flat drunk and desperate for each other, ripping off their clothes and leaving a trail right up to his bedroom door. it was quick, lust-filled, drunk. neither one of them in the mood for foreplay. she didn't remember reaching for protection, she didn't remember him taking a moment to wrap himself up, she didn't remember sliding it on for him or watching him take it off... so she wholeheartedly trusted her own protection to save her.

she knew it had to have been that night.

the dates matched.

"we clearly weren't that night," she adds, "arthur-"

"i don't- i- yn, i don't know how to be a dad."

"and you think i know how to be a mum? arthur, in case it didn't occur to you but, i don't have kids. i've never been a parent before either," she hisses at him from his office doorway and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, "christ, i'm just as scared as you right now. and i think i deserve to be-"

"it's a two person situation, yn," he claims, sticking two fingers up in her direction and she frowns, "i don't deserve to be scared?"

"yeah but you're not the one who has to go through the chances, are you? you'll still remain you where i'll look like i've stolen a watermelon from the supermarket," she grumbles lowly and he lets out a slight snicker; the light tension that was building had seemingly fizzled out, the initial shock still lingering in the air but it was something he could ignore, "it's not funny!"

"a watermelon?"

"it's the first thing that came to mind," she sighs heavily and puffs out a long breath from within her chest, "you're not going to throw up at any given moment because a smell puts you off. you're not going to have hormone changes and cry at stupid things. you won't get fat or start to waddle because you can't walk properly. you don't even have to push them out of a tight hole that's not big enough."

he sets his hands down on the arms of his chair and pushes himself out from underneath his desk, standing to his feet with his arms stretched out in her direction, and he takes her hands tightly in his own.

"i get that, i do," he hums softly, stroking a knuckle with his thumb and using his other hand to pull her into his chest, "but that doesn't mean my feels are invalid. i'm a support system for you in a situation that i've never had to deal with before."

she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face into the tee draping down his chest, the smell soothing the butterflies that were fluttering around in her stomach - the one thing she panicked would happen never did and it put her mind at ease.

"yeah, okay, but you won't get fat, arthur," she grumbles.

"you won't be fat though," he assures her, pressing a kiss to her head, "you'll be carrying a baby. our baby. making sure they're growing and that they're healthy. you're a home, keeping them safe, looking after them."

they stand there in silence, swaying from side to side, seconds going by and she truly felt like they could work everything out together. as a team.

"you're not upset?"

he pulls away and looks down at her, shaking his head, "why on earth would i be upset?"

"because we never spoke about this. we're not even married. we don't live together," she looks up at him and makes eye contact with him, "i know it's not ideal and-"

"i'm scared, i'm not upset," he interrupted and smiles down at her, "we've got nine months to figure everything out. i'd say that's enough time."

and, of course, he spent nine months reading all the baby books and reading things online. buying book after book from amazon and creating a good pile on his bedside table that he read before they went to bed, reading out different facts and important things so that he could involve yn in his learning. asking all the right questions at their midwife appointments. asking his mum and his step-mum all the right things to understand what could happen during her labour and what he could do to make things easier. and he's so proud to talk about it when people ask him. xx

[ahgasegotarmy116]

OMG I HAVE ANOTHER DRABBLE REQ 😭😭✋🏻.

Can you do a drabble in which jti!jk lifts oc's baby bump

To giver her some relief?😭

(Love the teaser cantt waitttttt)

Haha this is so cute 🥰

Sure I think I can do that 🤭

(Are you talking about the Jimin teaser? I'm sad because it doesn't look like many people are interested in it but I'm glad you're excited about it 🥺💜)

~~~~~~

"Jungkook" I call out for him and I hear footsteps rushing upstairs moments later.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby?" he asks, concern clearly written all over his face and I can't help but giggle at the sight.

"Everything is fine I just can't get up" I relay, embarrassed that it's come to the point where I need his help for something as simple as this but he lets out a huge sigh of relief and helps me up with no hesitation.

"You scared me for a second there" he says and places a kiss on my forehead once I'm steady on my feet. "Sorry, I just didn't know how far away you were and you left your phone in here so I couldn't call you" I say, motioning over to where his phone is lying on his side of the bed.

"That's okay, I'm just glad I was here to help this time" he says, chuckling at the memory of the time I told him it took me almost five minutes of wiggling around to finally get myself out of bed one morning.

He wasn't around since he had to go into the office that day but he made sure that there weren't opportunities for something like that to happen again.

"Why did you have to put such a big baby in me?" I huff, walking over to the bathroom to go pee for what feels like the twelfth time today.

"They're not that big, the doctor says that they're growing at a healthy rate. It's our first baby so your body is still trying to figure out how to cope with it all" he says, leaning against the door frame and making sure that I'll be okay to get up on my own.

"Yeah I know but it sucks feeling this helpless. Plus I feel like I'm about to topple over half the time when they start moving around" I say, the hormones making me a bit more irritable today.

Well you are thirty five weeks at this point so they're running out of room in there" he says, smiling at he watches me struggle to wash my hands with my big belly in the way.

It's not that he likes seeing how difficult it is for me to perform simple tasks like this, he just finds it endearing and loves to help me more than anything.

"Very funny" I grumble once I catch his smile in the mirror and walk past him and back into the bedroom but I don't get too far before he's holding onto me like he always does.

I swear it's some sort of primal instinct or something because for some reason he always feels the need to keep his hands on me at all times.

"Can I try something really quick?" he asks, both his hands snaking around my waist or lack there of because of our ginormous spawn. "Like what?" I ask, sighing in contentment when he places a kiss on my neck, laying my head back on his shoulder and relishing the feeling of it.

"It might feel a little weird for a second but tell me if it hurts right away" he warns and now I'm scared. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, trying to turn around and face him but he holds me in place before I can.

"Just trust me" he mumbles against my skin and after thinking about it for another second or two I nod my head and wait for whatever it is he has planned.

He runs his hands all along my stomach and then rests them right underneath it and when I think he's about to go lower he wraps his arms under it and lifts it up, granting me instant relief and I couldn't control the moan I let out even if I wanted to.

"That good huh?" he chuckles, placing a kiss on my temple and lifting it up a little higher making me melt into him. "You have no idea" I sigh, not remembering what it felt like not having a baby in me until now.

"I've gotta let go soon though" he warns and although I know he would do this for me all day if he could all good things must come to an end.

"One more minute?" I ask and he chuckles and adjusts his hold so he can keep it going for a little bit longer and even when a minute is up he just stays there, holding me as long as he can...

~~~~~

Hope that was fluffy enough for ya 🥰

I miss this couple sm but I've kinda come to a writer's block for the main storyline but dw I haven't forgotten about them 💜

[desceros]

rise donnie mating season head canons?

If you want only.

pfffft do i wanna think about rise donnie during mating season.... absurd....[tries to hide my sweaty palms]

so i go back and forth on how much turtle-brain gets activated, but regardless, donnie is a biter. (i mean. i think he's always a biter.) like, sink his teeth in to the point where it hurts, sometimes draws blood biting. and he's quite aggressive about putting you where he wants you, so if you move even a little bit, he's sinking his teeth and nails in to keep you in place.

i tend to think of it lasting about a week most times. it hits him a little slow, like he can feel it coming up on him a week or so before it's going to hit. before he had you to help him through it, it was a miserable experience. the whole time he's horny, nothing is scratching the itch properly, he just wants to get back to work. then you come into the picture, and oh, oh it's fucking incredible; there are a few little hiccups here and there i'll talk about later, but in general, he ends up really looking forward to it because afterwards he feels completely rejuvenated, like it's a new year and he's ready to go

sometimes... on my naughtier days........ i like to imagine that he's not really capable of hearing a safe word during the thick of things. and that really scares him a lot. the first couple of times, it scared you, too, just a little; but after a few seasons where you realized that hey, you're fully on board with everything he's got to offer, you talked about it and you're good to go. donnie's.... never really good to go, but he trusts you enough to know your limits.

the first time you have sex during mating season, it's still pretty normal. it's heating up in him, he's still got his brain in his skull, he's just uncomfortably horny. he tries to make it sweet bc he knows the absolute railing you're in for, and no matter how many years you go through it together or how many times you promise that you love it, he's always a little moody about how much he hurts you, and he likes to make up for it.

i headcanon donnie to be the king of giving head (helloooo sensory bliss), but i think this comes and goes during his heat. like, sometimes he gets his head between your legs and he is just fuckin down there for hours. you're going to cry. good chance you'll pass out. it's gonna be so much that you're not going to be able to handle it. and sometimes he's too busy stuffing you full to do anything but pin you to the bed.

most of the time, during his heat, he's got you face-down and fucking you from behind. it's how turtles do it, and that's what his little brain likes. though one time, very memorably, he missed his heat sneaking up on him and you started in a pool. somehow you managed not to drown, but the tumbling underwater with your boyfriend's dick what felt like up to your throat was a pretty great experience.

donnie is always noisy in bed. during his heat this continues, but he talks a lot more about breeding you. you ask him, once, afterwards if he has a kink and wants to explore it outside of his season; and he says no, not really, but something about the hormones in his brain just scream that he's gotta fertilize your eggs.

i picture donnie as a switch, but i think during his mating season that's out of the picture. he's fucking you, period. you're not going to be on top. you're not going to eat him out. he's going to be putting his dick inside of you, and that's where his come is gonna go. no eating it, no painting it anywhere, just inside.

after he puts his dick away for the last time and gets his brain back between his ears, the first thing he does is check and see how badly he's fucked you up. he bandages any wounds you haven't already tended to yourself, gives you a full body massage to work out the kinks of where he bent you in all kinds of funny positions, and then the two of you have a ritual where you take a bath together. it's really tender and sweet, and you scrub each other down and talk about what happened, what you liked, what you didn't like. then, while he goes off to get some food for the both of you (because he doesn't want you to leave his room where his brothers can smell you), you change the sheets on the bed, and after a quick snack the two of you collapse and pass out for like. twelve hours

[forever--darling]

Hi sweet girl , I want to tell you that your me & the devil fic is one of my favorites and one of the best I'm reading. For me Anakin x reader is perfection 💗.

I don't know if I'm being too ambitious but in blurb ideas I have one for Hayden and one for Anakin. I would like it to be fluffy.

From Hayden it could be something like : How is an outing with him ? ( I love how homey he is ) . Cooking together , watching movies in his living room while cuddling . Him giving that charming smile he has .

And for Anakin I love the idea of how he comforts his girl . Hugs , nicknames , cuddling together .

summary: a night staying in, resulting in getting high, has you unable to focus on the idea of sex when you're too busy laughing & realizing the extent of your feelings

pairings: hayden christenson x young!reader

word count: 1.0k

warnings/notes: age!gap (reader in mid-twenties), mention of weed/getting high, fluff, honeymoon phase af, mentions of sex, mentions of anakin skywalker

p.s. to whoever requested this, I will be doing your second request as well sometime soon.

masterlist

Blue pupils stared back at you, up through the dim lighting of the bedside lamp. Slightly blown out, from the weed in his system or you, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t know as this wasn’t something the two of you ever did often, yet the sudden fire beneath your skin and the precious need to press your body close to his was something you craved. Perhaps, it was the way his lips felt along your collarbones, the sides of your neck, or how his warm hands, calluses in all, felt along the bareskin of your sides. Maybe it was just him in general, how much and how quickly you had found yourself wanting him. 

Or maybe it's just the drugs. 

The way they seemed to warp your senses, filling the air with some sort of stamina that left the particles buzzing and your breath astray. The music sounded quieter than it really was, but perhaps it was masked by the soft giggle that poured out freely. 

“What? What is it?” Hayden sighed, almost disappointed, his head lifting up from where his lips had been attached to your collarbone, kissing softly.

A quirk appeared in his brow, a teasing look in his eyes as he took in the way you appeared so perfectly pinned underneath him. His body on top of yours, legs parting yours, his weight light as they pushed you deeper into the mattress. 

Your laughter quit but only for a moment as you tried to explain just what was so funny to you in the first place, something that wouldn’t have been nearly as funny if you hadn’t smoked as much as you had. For not having done it in a while other than the edibles you had at least once a week, you had forgotten how much to inhale. 

“Nothing,” you said, trying to appear as serious as can be, a smile forming in a fine line as you met his stare. 

Your laugh burst out again, though, and your eyes crinkled shut, unable to stop the way the hormones attacked the neurons in your brain. 

“Right,” Hayden replied, narrowing his eyes playfully, the redness in them no doubt matching your own. “Clearly, it’s nothing if it has you laughing as much as you are.” 

You shook your head, hands automatically wrapping around his strong shoulders, fingers carding through the back of his hair almost like they had a mind of their own. The softness of the short curls had your heart bursting if that was even a feeling. 

“Seriously, tell me.” 

“I can’t.” 

“And why not?” he demanded, thumbs rubbing soft circles across your hips. 

“Because…” 

You were laughing again, and his head was falling, meeting your chest with ease, a sigh filtering out of his lips. 

“Baby,” he mumbled, lips pressed along your collarbone again, but this time no longer gracing them with the kisses you had come to love so much. Almost too much. 

“Fine, okay,” you gave in, laughter diminishing again to nothing but a soft chuckle, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to get the words out, “I was just thinking…” 

“Yeah?” 

“When you’ve hooked up with girls in the past, have they, ever, you know. Asked you to like dress up in costume?”

A deadpan look appeared on his face as his head lifted, eyes finding yours again, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, have they ever been mid-foreplay and straight out asked you if you can dress up as Anakin or Darth Vader?” 

“Where is this coming from?” he chuckled, too, lips lifting into that smile that somehow had convinced you to leave all the guys your age in the past. 

“Or have they asked you to pull out your lightsaber?” 

“Y/N,” he shook his head, mouth forming in an ‘o’, almost in surprise as you continued to laugh. “I’m trying to initiate sex here, and you’re laughing about if other girls have asked me to make their Star Wars sex fantasies a reality?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied, the tone almost accusatory tone as if it was something you would be asking, especially five hits later from the joint that was now stubbed out in the bathroom. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that,” he laughed then, too, “Why, is that something you want? Do you want to know about my lightsaber?” 

“I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t,” you retorted, laughter falling away to complete seriousness.

 Staring down at him, you felt the silence lull, almost swallowing you whole as the realization appeared again, almost like a car hitting you out of nowhere. The realization that you had fallen for an older man, a man you hadn’t expected to ever want you back, to notice you the way he had. Worse, to love him as you did so quickly, so immensely was too much, too much to understand, to accept. 

Yet there you were, pinned beneath him, heart so full, so well-kept, hoping that it would stay close within his palms for the rest of time. 

That charming smile appeared then on his face, his eyes crinkling slightly, a certain sort of contentment appearing as if he had had a revelation of his own. Words were not enough in that moment, so evidently as he leaned up, connecting his lips with yours, softly, deeply as if he was trying to pour his very own breath into your being. 

You loved this man; that was inevitable. 

After a few seconds, he pulled back, only enough for his lips to depart from yours. That smirk of his still firmly sat along his face. “So, what are you saying? Do you want me to go grab my wardrobe from set? I’m sure you would really have something to laugh at then, wouldn’t you?” 

You loved this man, and you wanted him like this forever.

“Yeah, I would.” 

[restinslices]

If requests are open how abt teens lin kuei brothers x brat male reader? (Also teen)

I tried my best but I’m actually so bad at writing dom characters, it’s insane. After Bi-Han, my brain shut off. If this was a paid service, you’d need a refund gang. You said teens but I kept them as adults cause although ik minors engage in those activities aswell, I’m an adult soooooo😃

Bi-Han

Some people are probably expecting me to say some wild shit like he's the worst, he doesn't respect boundaries, he's always angry at you, doesn't listen to the safe word, ect ect. 

I don't think that's true 

Am I saying he's all soft and squishy? No. But Bi-Han is not a terrible dom. 

Bi-Han is a perfectionist so any precautions beforehand are definitely gonna be dealt with. What he wants outta this, what you want, limits, ect. 

Onto dealing with a brat though, we already know Bi-Han has a short temper so any bratty behavior would noticeably annoy him 

Smth that would guarantee a punishment would be acting out in front of other Lin Kuei or just in public. It'd be discreet enough that no one would really notice what's going on, but obvious enough that he'd know you're being a brat on purpose 

Questioning certain orders, doing things extremely slow, talking over him, the list could go on. Being bratty around people especially when he's supposed to be “professional” is the quickest way to get a punishment 

I kinda see it as a storm. You know it's coming, you see the signs, but when it happens you still go “dammit. I can't believe it's raining like this”

Does he warn you? Yes. But he only does it once. If you keep going, he mentally writes it all down 

Now Bi-Han doesn't strike me as someone who particularly likes physical touch all the time but punishments don't have to be the typical spanking or harsh fucking. He can be more creative 

I feel like he enjoys punishments that have to do with humiliation. There's so much control in telling you to do something and you just follow it. 

Very much a “ride my boot” type of guy 

The type to make you orgasm over and over again and you don't stop until he's satisfied (obviously keeping your safety and what you can take in mind though)

Takes bratty behavior seriously. He's not making funny little jokes or nothing of the sort. He's putting you in your place 

His punishments would linger. For example he'd tell you to tell him whenever you got horny and why for like, a solid week. This seems small but if you get hormonal easily, you're going up to him a lot and he's shaming you everytime. 

His arms? You're that easy? How could you even survive without him?

The best part of this is you don't have to tell him any of this. Realistically you could ignore this or not tell him every time you're hormonal, and he makes sure to taunt you and remind you of this. 

Humiliation punishments are his go to

Rewards would probably be allowing you a bit of control, like picking any toys you'll use or letting you pick the scene 

A brat would probably fit him well cause he gets to constantly put you in your place, which can be a good way to relax for him 

Kuai Liang

Is also very organized. So organized I think he'd have a secret way to tell you he's actually not in the mood or too busy for you. 

“Go take a walk” means “not right now” 

Bratty behaviors that would bother him the most I think would be doing dumb shit. Like, below average IQ type of things. 

It bothers him because you're not stupid so stop acting stupid. If he says do A, don't do B

But it's fine. You wanna play stupid? He can do that. 

I know I said Bi-Han’s punishments sometimes linger but it really ain't got shit on Kuai Liang’s

If you wanna act like you don't understand basic orders because you wanna act out, then he's gonna act like he doesn't understand anything you want. 

You say “I need you” but he goes to do something else. What's the problem? Clearly you were saying you needed him to do laundry that day. 

You say “touch me” but he touches you everywhere except where you really need him 

You could say something as clear as “please make me cum” and he'd bring you close, but would stop. Why are you upset? You didn't say what day to make you cum. You'll do it later. 

Every single request you have for him turns into something you didn't want and he watches with satisfaction as it slowly drives you insane. 

And doing other bratty behaviors to try and get a response outta him doesn't work because the more bratty you act, the longer he's gonna keep this up. He has the patience to do this too. 

This won't stop until you're on your knees begging like a madman for him to do anything to make you feel good and promising you'll behave from now on. 

And even then he's not satisfied. You have to actually show you're gonna start behaving. He won't actually give you what you want until you behave for at least a week or two straight. No problems. No complaining. No issues. 

You both know you'll act out again but for a good chunk of time, he's enjoying his peace 

Tomas Vrbada

I honestly cannot imagine this man as a dom but for you, I will try 

Tomas is a nice guy and this nice guy shit is how the problem would start 

Taunts would be the way to get to him. So when you say “can't you do better or are you too soft?” it gets to him 

Tomas’ version of punishment would be doing nothing at all. 

He's too soft? Ok. That means he's too soft to touch you, to whisper any dirty things, to tease you, ect. 

Kuai Liang is interacting with you but is doing the exact opposite, Tomas is straight up refusing to do anything. 

You can try to seduce him all you want, you're getting a smart ass “we can't do that. I'm too soft for all of that”

Legit becomes the biggest prude when it comes to doing anything with you. Has no problem touching himself and telling you you can't touch cause he “couldn't handle it”

He takes taunts literal. “I could fuck myself better”, ok then he won't touch you at all for awhile. You got it. “You could do better”, you are completely right. As a matter fact, how about he practice on himself or using a toy and making you watch. Ya know, just to have a third party to inform him if he's doing well. 

Just a real petty bitch in a cute package. 

Probably needs the most breaks when it comes to a brat though cause sometimes he's fr not tryna hear that shit and just needs someone to be there. Which is fine. 

I also imagine he’s possibly new to being a dom so this whole thing is trying shit out. He’s willing to experiment with different kind of punishments, rewards, schedules, all that shit.

When dealing with a brat Bi-Han is strict, Kuai Liang is patience and pettiness wrapped in one and Tomas is just petty 

Looking back there’s no mention of male anatomy and it’s so short. Idk why dom characters make my brain short circuit. We will attempt dom characters at a later date but for now, this is all I got.

[sapphichotmess]

Always, Johnny

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader (Bonnie)

requested by @cas-backwards-tie

sorry for the long wait for this. funny enough, i have been in a depression and trying to write this (or anything) has been too much.

18+ mdni (my blog is 18+)

2k+ words

Warnings: awful writing + depression and what comes with it

It’s been months since Johnny was deployed. 

At first, you were happy to keep texting when you could, maybe even a call or Facetime sprinkled in somewhere. But the happiness died after the first week alone in a seemingly colossal house. The rooms felt too big, too many. You barely move from the couch to the spare bedroom—you couldn’t stomach laying in your and Johnny’s shared bed, smelling his sweat and cologne embedded in the sheets from nights—and days—of sleeping and fucking. 

Your phone lies uncharged on the living room floor, tossed in frustration, when yet another concerned text from Johnny popped up on the blank screen you are mindlessly staring at. The laptop you usually use to write is also lying uncharged somewhere—you don’t know or care where. You have called in to work multiple times this month, guilt gnawing at your empty stomach; you haven’t been able to stomach much more than a few nibbles of food if you gather the strength or motivation to get off the couch or spare bed, let alone make something to eat. 

At the thought of food, your stomach grumbles angrily. At the sound, you sigh heavily, a shaky hand dragging through greasy strands of hair, causing you to cringe in disgust. You need a shower badly, but you just couldn’t get yourself to take one. If you got enough courage to drag your feet into the bathroom—maybe once a day, if that—you had just enough motivation to relieve your bladder and no more; just the thought of a shower made you even more exhausted. 

Not only are you a mess—oily hair and skin, pimples popping up across your face from hormones and lack of cleansing, and week-old clothes rumpled and creased with over-use, stains splattered across t-shirt and sweatpants—but the house is too, despite its lack of use. In the kitchen, barely-eaten pre-packaged foods are sitting on the counter, dirty cups, plates, and utensils practically overflowing the sink, the trash can overflowing with paper plates and food packages, some in a pile at its base. The living room is in a similar state, with used tissues dotting the carpeted floor because the trash was full, multiple blankets scattered and balled up on the floor and couch, half-drank bottles of juice or water on any surface available, and pillows thrown about every which way. The plants across the house look wilted and sad from not having water. To top everything off, you have every light in the house off and windows blocked by curtains or blankets; not a drop of light is able to penetrate the coffin you made yourself. 

Except for Johnny. 

Johnny has been concerned about your lack of reply for weeks. Even while he was in active combat, his mind was on you. He knows how you can get, how your mood can plummet during this time of year, and your distance has scared him. His mind races with thoughts of what he would find when he got home—whether you were alive or not. 

As his boots tread heavily on the gravel path up to their shared house, his heart races and pounds against his ribcage, raging to get out. He is terrified to open the door and find you lying in the middle of the living room, chest still and beautiful eyes closed. His notifications have been painfully empty of responses from you, and your chat is full of increasingly concerned texts from him. 

He opens the white, wooden door with shaking hands. His lungs deflate of breath when he spies your hair piled over the arm of the couch, hanging limply. He rushes over, footfalls echoing across the empty house, not bothering to take his clunky boots off, close the door, or be quiet. Johnny doesn’t care about waking the neighbors or disturbing any wildlife around. He just wants to get to you. 

Army-regulated boots thud to a stop in front of the couch, scarred, callused hands shaking as they cup your jaw tenderly, long middle and pointer fingers placed on your pulse. Hair moves with a shaky gust of air, and a chest deflates. 

You are alive. You are here in his hands, pulse thundering under his fingers, eyes blinking open, and lashes fluttering against your cheeks. Blinking your eyes a couple of times, you focus on the weight on your jaw. A breath of air flutters across Johnny’s palm as you nuzzle further into his warmth. It takes you a minute to hear the sound of staggered breathing coming from in front of you, but when you do, your eyes snap open. 

Your boyfriend is standing there in his civilian clothes, chest heaving and straining against his black hoodie. It takes another minute for your brain to process what is happening—Johnny’s home. 

With the most energy you have had since he left months ago, you leap off the couch and launch yourself into his strong arms. As soon as his strong, muscled arms tightly grip you, you open the floodgates. Your hiccup with every breath and your blotchy face feels hot to the touch as you grip Johnny like a lifeline. 

He is your lifeline. 

And he just holds you tighter, gently rocking you back and forth as he trails a hand up to the back of your head, cupping it and holding your face against his neck. He doesn’t care about the tickling feeling of your tears falling down his muscle-corded neck or your hot breath on the now-wet skin. Johnny feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks. You’re finally in his arms. You may be a little broken, but he can help you put the pieces back together again. He’s here, your Johnny, your soldier. 

The first thing Johnny does when you pull away is take your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears from your face. He takes in your gaunt face, sunken cheekbones, and bags under your puffy and red-veined eyes—eyes that look so empty despite your joy at him being home. 

“Oh, wee lass…I am so sorry.” 

Choking on your breath, you mutter, “I love you,” and break down in tears again. 

_____

The first thing Johnny does is carry you to and sit you down at your island. Johnny is determined to find you food, opening every cabinet and standing in front of it for minutes, looking in every nook and cranny to see if there is something you will be able to stomach. The squeaking and slamming of the opening and closing old wooden cabinets make your head ache. 

Finally, Johnny lets out a short shout of joy, having found some canned soup that would be easy for you to stomach after such a long time without food. Opening the can into a bowl and throwing it in the microwave for a few minutes, Johnny clomps his way over to you, his work boots still on his feet. 

“I missed ye, bonnie…I missed ye so much.” 

“Johnny…” you breathe.

“Shhhh, bonnie lass, dinnae say nothin’. Save yer energy. Ah’ve got ya.” 

He doesn’t let you say anything more, taking your face in his hands again, leaning down to flutter a kiss on your forehead, and stuffing his nose into your greasy hair. He doesn’t care that you’re dirty—he’s been in worse conditions—he just wants to feel that you are alive and remember what you smell like. 

The beeping of the microwave sounds, causing you two to startle out of your stupors. Taking one last long look at your face, Johnny turns around and clomps back over to the microwave. He takes the soup out and grabs a soup spoon from the cabinet drawer just under the microwave. Walking on light feet to keep the soup from spilling, Johnny makes his way over to you. He sits the bowl in front of you, taking hold of your hands and bringing them to curve around the bowl, ensuring your hands are toasty warm. 

Johnny sits and encourages you to eat until the bowl is empty and your stomach is full. 

_____

The next thing Johnny does is carry you to your bathroom, delicately standing you on the fuzzy rug in front of the claw-footed bathtub. He rubs his hands up and down your gooseflesh-covered arms, trying to warm you up. 

“Hey, bonnie,” he whispers as he tugs on the hem of the dirty oversized shirt you wear, “can I take this off?” 

You hum in response, keeping your eyes down on your twiddling fingers. 

“Bonnie…” Johnny takes his pointer and middle finger and puts them under your chin, pressing the front of your chin and lifting your head gently, “words, please.” 

“You can take it off.”

At your words, Johnny moves his hand from your face and brings it back to the hem of your—his—shirt, pulling it up with slow movements and encouraging you to lift your arms when needed. When he has it over your head, he drops it unceremoniously to the cold, tiled floor. Then he settles his large, warm palms on your naked waist, waiting for your consent to take off the shorts you had on with brown, searching, puppy-dog eyes. 

“Go ahead,” you whisper, searching his face for disgust as he leans down and peels the shorts from your legs. 

You find none. 

Instead, you see love and care reflected on his face, his body relaxed, and his mouth dropped open in awe as he stares at your naked form. Even in your most depressed form, he sees your beauty. Your eyes well up, waterline misting. 

The choked sound you make trying to hold back your tears has Johnny’s head snapping up in concern, eyebrows pulled in, and a small frown pulling at his lips. 

“Bonnie?” 

“Y-you just—why do you love me?” you say with trembling lips.

Johnny’s lips turn downward at a sharper angle, eyebrows furrowing and wrinkles forming between brows. His overgrown mohawk ruffles as he shakes his head lightly

“Why wouldn’t I love you?”

“I have no excuse to be like this. Nothing has happened to me that made me this way.”

“You—”

“No. Johnny, it’s not fair to you. Not fair to have you come home from fucking war and have to take care of me.” 

“Bonnie, it doesn’t bother me…You aren’t a bother or burden. Your mental health is important to me. I worry about you every time I leave.” 

Now your eyebrows furrow, and hot, salty tears continue to fall from your eyes.

“But you shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“My bonnie lass…I would worry whether or not you had depression. I hate leaving you in your apartment alone for months on end.” Johnny watches as your lip wobbles, bringing his hands to your face and wiping your tears with big thumbs. You let loose a sob at his words and gentleness. 

“I don’t deserve you, Johnny.” 

“Shhhh, lass. I’ve got ya,” he whispers, pulling your shivering form into his hard, warm body and running his hands up and down your back as you soak his shirt with salty tears. 

“I-I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“Shuh, bonnie. I’m here…you don’t have to worry your pretty little head.” 

After a few minutes of crying, you pull away from Johnny, wiping your running nose on the back of your hand. Johnny looks down at you with big blue eyes, softened with admiration and love. 

“Let’s get you in the tub, bonnie. I’ll even wash your hair.” 

You giggle slightly, lips turning up and eyes crinkling, nodding your head and letting him fully pull away from you. The cold air causes gooseflesh to prick up on your arms again. As you shiver slightly, you turn to watch Johnny lean over the bathtub to turn the faucet on and plug the drain. Steam curls up and around Johnny as he stands upright and turns towards you,

“Ya like what ya see?” he smirks. 

Giggling and feeling lighter than you have in weeks, you walk over to his outstretched hand. 

“Always, Johnny.”

[weebsinstash]

Wouldn't it be funny if reader is aware abt the spiderverse being yandere and stuff but still continues to act blissfully unaware and when they found abt the youtwo situation and stuff they used that to their advantage to basically escape the obsessive grasps the yandere spiderverse has. and basically readers all giddy abt it

YouTwo: wow, it sure would be a shame if I started stealing all of this excessive attention you seem to get. I wonder if all your little spider society friends would even be able to tell :)

You: oh my sweet summer child. Oh my little tiny baby still on its mother's milk. Oh my naive ignorant little newborn

You: y'all can fucking HAVE THEM, my guy

You: once I thought I was being nice by offering Miguel some of the extra snacks I was eating while I was delivering a message in-person from another Spiderman and I got close enough that I accidentally saw the holograms he was looking at and this man had been watching another dimension where we were having our wedding

You: Pavitr who has never done anything wrong in his life ever once invited me to a family member's wedding and I was stupid enough to say yes because then I had him and his girlfriend babbling in my ear while I got literal actual personally customized henna, do you have any idea how time consuming and intricate and personal henna is, I felt like I was naked. Beautiful wedding, literally did not have privacy almost that entire day

You: the other week Peter B somehow got the access code from Miguel to have the security clearance to broadcast across the Spider Society and I was in the middle of the cafeteria when literally everyone in the room had their watches light up with his face, "hey I can't find them myself so if anyone sees my other kid let them know how cool they are and how much I love them and how Uncle Pete misses em 🥰" and to this day I can't enter the food court without a literal army of Peter Parkers obnoxiously teasing me, "We LoOOoOooOooVE YoU SwEEtiE"

You: Jess got overwhelmed with the pregnancy hormones once and she asked me how my day was going and I made the mistake of being honest and said I was a little sad and she burst into tears begging me to move into the spare bedroom of her house and asking when I ate last and insisted I join her and her husband for "a family dinner"

You: that Morales kid was feeling kind of depressed so I gave him my perspective on adulthood and how sometimes the only expectations you need to meet are your own dreams for yourself and i told him all these good qualities i saw in him to cheer him up, and now he and Gwen Stacy keep showing up unannounced in my universe to hang out. Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone who can turn invisible. My knees crack when I stand up from sitting down for too long, I can't outrun two parkouring teenagers!

You: the other day i had an earbud fall into the back of my hoodie so I just took it off and shook it out trying to find it and like three different goobers fell out and I pick one of them up and it literally looks like a piece of plastic and I must've accidentally hit something because it said "beep boop boop" in an IRL person's voice and I'm like "hello???" And someone replies "YEAH, LEGO SPIDERMAN HERE"

[calliecwrites]

Shifter HRT, part 4 – First Changes (2 Months)

It’s happening! Slowly – but surely. I noticed the first small changes over the last few weeks. And, despite obsessively checking myself for changes every day, I found the first thing completely by accident.

I don’t bleed anymore. I nicked my finger while cooking, and nothing happened. Eventually there was a little blob of red goo there, but it wasn’t watery like blood, and after a while it seeped back into the wound. That’s what my blood is like now. It kinda makes sense that it would be the first thing to change, since it’s already liquid, and it’s what’s carrying the shifterising hormone around my body. I can’t feel it, I can’t control it, but knowing that I’ve got goo in my veins (what a thing to say) is weirdly validating. All those pills I’ve been taking are actually doing something! And I’d swear the cut healed faster than usual – though that might just be me seeing things where there aren’t any.

Speaking of seeing, my eyesight is changing. Or, maybe not the sight itself, but what my brain is doing with it. I’m noticing details more. It’s like how, sometimes, after meditation, I feel like I’m seeing things more as they are, rather than seeing what I expect to see. I imagine it’s what it’s like for an artist studying something they want to draw. Except now it’s happening spontaneously, and more intensely. For a moment, I can look at a tree and take in the whole thing at once, every leaf and branch, and remember it. It’s intermittent – more often than not I’m still seeing things the old human way – but it’s happening enough to notice.

Everyone always says shifters have a really good eye for detail. In all the human stories where shifters are monsters, that’s how they’re able to imitate and replace people so easily (assuming they don’t just absorb them, which also often ends up happening in those stories). I think this must be the start of it.

Some patches of skin feel different, too. There’s one on my leg, one on my stomach, and another on my back. They look the same, but the texture is slightly different, and I can tell where they are even without touching them. If I really focus, I can make them feel just a bit softer and squishier than normal flesh. Not quite like goo, not yet, but definitely different. I’m thinking these will be the first parts to turn fluid, eventually.

And one more thing: I bought one of those shifter art things. Maybe you’ve seen them? – a little bowl full of goo, with a button on the side that you twiddle to change the goo into different shapes. Or, maybe ‘putty’ is a better word – it’s a bit like wet clay that doesn’t dry. It’s a sculpting toy, basically – that shifters invented. I’ve wanted one for years, but never dared, because someone might see it and… guess what was going on in my head? Who am I kidding? – no one is going to see that and think maybe you want to be a shifter! If they even noticed it, they’d take one look, think that’s a funny little thing, and move on. Paranoia is… well. I don’t think paranoia is too strong a word for it. Everything I did had to be checked against would this make people suspect?, and that overrode everything else. Any sign had to be hidden at all costs. I still didn’t dare buy it in a shop – I ordered it online – but now it’s here, sitting on my shelf, and so far no one has called me a monster. I don’t think anyone’s even noticed.

Right now it’s in the very rough shape of a dragon. Well, OK, so it’s basically a blob with two little blobs that kinda maybe could be wings… and looks more like a mushroom… what you can do with the button is very limited! But the real appeal of these is that once I can turn fluid, I’ll be able to flow into it, mix with the putty, and sculpt it from the inside using my own shapeshifting ability. It’s no wonder shifters love these things. Some of the pictures I’ve seen online are amazing – almost as amazing as what they can do with their own bodies. What I’ll be able to do, eventually.

And so that’s it! Two months, and things changing already! I’m still taking my human hormones – I’ll have to keep doing that for a while – and I still haven’t told anyone (ugh, don’t want to think about that), but for only having been on this for such a short time, things couldn’t be better!

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@aiden-nevada @avery-victoria-winterlight @dierotenixe @leahnardo-da-veggie @mint-and-authoress

@sandyca5tle @scrubbinn @therian-lesbian @the-gender-fae @wuwojiti

[sgiandubh]

Asymmetric Bars

Spent much of last night - and I could not really afford to do so: oh, well - watching the event unfold from the comfort of my couch.

Very pleased with all of the enthusiastic live reactions. They are better than any of our keyboard comments, simply because nothing can replace direct experience and personal perception.

I once told a (French) writer friend she couldn't properly start a novel about Russia without going there, irrespective of anything else. She was horribly pissed off and the new-ish friendship went down the drain - but I was honest and (it is my deep belief) also right. All things considered, same applies here: you were not in Sydney, well - all you can do is second-hand comment on what others saw.

I never pretended to be neutral, so I picked my trusted source and went with it, in my reblogs. So, there is no need for me to translate what @samheughanswife saw and shared: these are her things and this is her well-deserved privilege. But to me, it is the vicarious reactions that tell perhaps the most interesting tale and this short comment is about them, solely.

Hormones were obviously off the roof, disguised as they could, from gratuitous bitching to infantile drooling. That bracelet, FFS, it's a fan gift! What did you want him to do? Not wear it and they would have screeched he is dismissive and entitled. Wear it and they screeched it was tacky and 'classless' (according to one of the worst, shameless mythomaniacs in this fandom).

Funny how some (the same people, actually) see fan service where it is obviously not and conveniently forget about it exactly where it is absolutely obvious.

He looked tired. He looked hungover. His outfit sucked: who was the person expecting to see, I wonder, Houdini? JAMMF? POTUS? Michael Jackson? Benny Hill, so popular in their gif repertoire? His outfit was the one he always wears at cons, lately. There is nothing to write home about, but when you are a BBB (slainte and make it a triple), adding boredom to the mix, anything goes to feel alive and important.

It's always been about S, the most peculiar thing, really. Their OTT reactions to a happy go lucky, festive event justify why I don't give a damn about whatever they could ever say about anything else. Being vocal about something is directly proportional, in that group, to having no knowledge or exposure to that something. It is absolutely clear, now.

You wonder perhaps what happened next to my French writer ex-acquaintance. Well, she never wrote that novel. Instead, she went ahead and published a decent one about Nadia Comăneci, something she had a direct experience of.

I still have that email, somewhere.

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game, brujay where it was one sided before and after Ethiopia but only perceived one sided afterwards.

I've always had a head canon about Jaybin having a crush before the Joker got him but that love changing drastically afterwards.

Because I read in a fic once that Bruce loves Jason so much that he would have sex with him if he ever asked and it has haunted me since (can't remember which fic sadly)

Loving reading all these asks btw ❣️

for the ask game!

THIS IS THE PEAK FLAVOR OF BRUJAY. one-sided pre-death turned to an absolute clusterfuck of feelings after Jason comes back. i've read a couple of fics with that concept because. god it's so fucking good. it's the best way for Bruce and Jason to sleep together, in my humble opinion.

i think before his death, Jason knows it's just a childhood crush. he's been on the streets to know what kind of men like teenagers, and Bruce categorically isn't one of those men. Bruce has always been strictly professional and fatherly toward Jason. so sure, it's a blow for the feelings to be unrequited, but Jason is almost relieved Bruce isn't that type of man because it means for once, he's safe at home and can relax around Bruce. Bruce probably notices the crush too, Jason stares openly and gets bashful when Bruce compliments him. but Bruce regards it as a hero worship sort of thing, and he keeps a careful distance, expecting Jason to grow out of it once he settles into living with Bruce. it's an innocent thing to both of them, just teenage hormones. Bruce loves Jason platonically regardless of it. but then. well. Jason dies before he could outgrow the crush and with everything else, it's the last thing on Bruce's mind. he wants to remember the good, innocent parts of Jason. he almost manages to forget about it.

Jason coming back is an unsteady thing. Bruce questions every part of it. (after all, Jason already faked Bruce out once during the Hush plot. Bruce has reason to be doubtful) so everything Jason says, everything he does, is under deep scrutiny for Bruce. anything could be a manipulation tactic. i think when Jason expresses his love this time, Bruce doesn't immediately believe him. sure, he distantly remembers Jason's old crush, but the way Jason expresses love now is different. it's rough, violent, and possessive. and to be fair, Jason is mostly using it to taunt Bruce and drag out his guilt. because he doesn't expect a world where Bruce could reciprocate his feelings. Bruce won't even acknowledge them, accusing Jason of lying and being sick in the head for thinking that's a funny joke. it's part of their dance back and forth, parts of Jason that Bruce won't acknowledge because they're not neat and easily digestible. Bruce doesn't want to admit that his dead son is now a killer. he doesn't want to admit that Jason could like him romantically because somehow, Bruce will turn that into his own failings. he didn't raise Jason right, didn't set clear enough boundaries when Jason was Robin. he didn't keep Jason alive long enough for the childhood crush to fade and now, it's become something twisted and unsightly Bruce doesn't know how to face.

Bruce's own feelings would be... slow and complicated. he loves Jason, that's unquestionable. everytime they run into each other though, everytime they fight and Jason taunts him more and more, that love feels different. Bruce would lay awake at night, wondering if Jason is getting to him. how he's letting Jason change the love inside of him. the memory of Jason from before is slipping through Bruce's fingers, making Bruce wonder if Jason was always like this and Bruce just didn't see him that way. Bruce would distance himself from the rest of the Batfam. if he can develop romantic feelings for Jason, who knows what feelings could arise for the others. he has to hold them all at arms length, emotionally. and the problem is, Bruce doesn't even know how to define his love. calling it strictly romantic is... wrong. part of Jason is still his son. his sidekick. it's a tangled mess of feelings that Bruce doesn't know how to face. he's not sure if he fully reciprocates Jason's love. at the very least, he doesn't reciprocate in the way that Jason loves. Jason's love is possessive to the point of obsession. he wants Bruce all to himself and they both know it. they also both know that will never happen. Bruce will always have other loved ones (both romantic and familial) that he can't deny and Jason will never fully come first. and since Bruce doesn't return that intensity, and he keeps wanting to change Jason, Jason assumes it isn't reciprocated at all. he's basically accepted it.

i think Bruce would admit his feelings on accident. he knows it's a deadly thing if he admits his love to Jason. how it could make Jason so much more violent and likely to target Bruce's family. so he's doing his best to keep it under wraps so Jason doesn't know. Bruce knows even if he admitted his love, they wouldn't work together, so it'd just be needlessly cruel for Jason to know, in his view. he thinks he's protecting Jason. but during another fight, Bruce accidentally says it. and the whole world just stops for Jason, because this isn't something Bruce would joke or lie about. he can see the regret in bruce's eyes for admitting it, and Jason wouldn't know how to feel. should he be angry, excited, in shock. so it just stops Jason in his tracks. Bruce expected explosive violence from Jason finding out, but instead Jason is just stunned and sitting in silence. almost looking like his old self, for a moment. even though he believes Bruce, Jason still needs proof. he still asks Bruce to fuck him, to prove it. to make it real. no matter Bruce's feelings, Bruce never would've fucked Jason by his own will. but he'd do anything for Jason. anything for the chance to bring Jason back. he loves Jason, that much is true no matter how tangled that love is. so, he gives in and does it for Jason. he fucks Jason in some grimy warehouse, bring Jason home, and then fucks him again, properly in a bed with aftercare. for a moment, the fantasy is almost real. Bruce has the hope that Jason is fixable, with Jason pressed against him, warm and pliant after sex.

of course it doesn't last. Jason wants more and more from Bruce, more than Bruce is willing to give. their love devolves to screaming and more fighting. sometimes their fights end in fucking, sometimes they don't. it's volatile either way. Jason has threatened just about every person close to Bruce under the sun, and none of it gets bruce to break and give more. even in love, they're always chasing each other and trying to get something the other can't give. they both know what the other could be capable of, if they were willing to change. and that's what makes it all the more frustrating. Bruce knows Jason is capable of kindness, he's seen it in Jason before. and Jason knows what kind of weapon Bruce could be if he just let go of his morals. it's so close for both of them, but in the end, neither of them get what they want. doesn't stop them from crawling into each other's bed, though. they will always seek each other out. need each other. that weird fucked up love you can't put a name to.