#how to bring down high blood sugar

[miniatureliterature]

The universe can stop now. It can stop. I’ve had enough now, it can chill out. I’m good. It can stop.

[wellextol]

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[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) just say the word.

𝜗𝜚 MIKAGE REO: RANUNCULACEAE.

a/n: [fem!reader] OMGG exam szn is finally over gais i am free!! i still have so many tests to do tho🙁 AND YES the title is a keshi reference

when mikage reo has a crush on you, he’s the type of boy to use your initials as his math variables. you’re all he ever thinks about, ever since he’s been rotted by the sugars of your kindness and presence. you were like his first and last breeze of air mixed in with love and refreshments. he had been enchanted by your soul, knotting his head and heart with yours. you’re all he ever wants to be around, and you have unconsciously seeped into his life like blood into a white sheet. a love that just keeps leaking, changing its colour completely.

SAY THE WORD, AND I'LL BE YOURS

when mikage reo realises, he can’t help but stare at you lovingly. his eyes are glued to you focusing on your tutor work he had given you, your pencil rapidly yet gently moving across the paper. his eyes are so tender and earnest, staring at you like you had hung up the stars yourself. reo finds himself instinctively caressing a stray hair from your face, his violet eyes still endearingly gazing. instantly, a pink hue graces across his face as his eyes meet yours.

THE LOOK YOU'RE GIVING ME GIVES YOU AWAY

when mikage reo steals your heart, he’s the type of guy to take his time into untangling your silver necklace. the one he had gifted you on your 6th month anniversary, that glistens in the sun. it’s chains are pristine, yet tangled tight, just like the way he had found himself when he fell for you (and does everyday). he smiles at the thought as his tongue sticks out slightly in concentration, one of your favourite habits of his. as a tease, you like to kiss the spot his tongue is before he can pull away. he loves to feel your face close to his, because it feels like his soul is too. he takes the time to untangle your necklace with his initial on the simple charm, even before the date’s expensive booking, he is gentle in unstringing every weaved chain.

YOU FINALLY FOUND THE HIGH THAT YOU'VE BEEN CHASING

when mikage reo falls impossibly deeper, he calls you all the time. not texting, because he knows you won’t listen. reo will call to make sure you eat lunch. reo will call to make sure you have your medicine. reo will bring you your favourite beverage and makes sure to remind you to take a break. reo will do everything he can to take care of you, because to him, when you came into his life, time is definitely more expensive than money. reo will take the time to make sure you are well fed and rested. his favourite part though is when you’re apart. don’t get me wrong, he hates it, but when you’re calling him and quietly telling him you miss him, his heart pounds against his chest a little more. and yes, he lets out a boyish chuckle once you’ve fallen asleep.

ONLY ONE MORE CHOICE YOU GOT TO MAKE

when mikage reo who never forgives himself when you have your first fight. after 6 gracious years, he finds himself living the day he could never fathom. yes, he had forgotten to buy your favourite snack at the convenience store, and he says he swears he will never forgive himself. how could you ever love him again? is what runs through his mind as he curls up against the couch, knees on his chest not feeling privileged enough for a blanket, nor feeling privileged enough to lie down with you in the bed in the room nearby. till then you, realising your fiancé’s absence, cluelessly searching for him, you gasp softly as you find reo all small on the couch. you sit next to him, but he inches away. he can’t help but confess his sins, but it all melts away when you lightly giggle at his silly habits.

I NEED YOU TO TELL ME 'CAUSE I

when mikage reo gets to be held in your arms, he melts completely. he feels his body go putty, his eyelids struggling to stay open to stare at your stunningly sculpted features. his teeth feels like he’s rotting, and his heart aches with an abundance of love. reo nestles his head in the junction between your chin bottom of your neck, absorbing every molecule of love he can. there is nothing he would want more than to unwind, cozily tucked into the embrace of his most beloved, sweetheart, and future wife.

IN MY ARMS FOR A SECOND

when mikage reo finally has you for himself, his brows twitch at the sight of your gorgeous figure, walking down the aisle. tears brim at the bottom of his eyes as you smile at him, taking your last steps in front of him. glitter highlighting the apple of your cheeks, lashes fluttering through the brown mascara and the necklace he untangled 5 years ago dangling off your collarbone. there was not a single moment in the world he would trade for this one. he finally smiles through the tears that stream down his cheeks, sliding the silver ring across the hand that once wrote tutor worksheet answers. it glistens in the sun, he thinks, just like you do.

BABY, SAY THE WORD, AND I'LL BE YOURS

mikage reo’s breath hitches. this is where he is. he is currently playing with his one-year-old, her incoherent babbles filling the silence strung into the air. reo finds himself laying on his stomach on a soft carpet next to scattered toys and various oils and creams for his little version. everything about this surreal moment had all gathered together to grasp onto the base of his neck, clenching onto him as tight as they can, making a lump form in his throat. his little version gently pats his nose, confused why her dad suddenly stop activating. he can’t help but tenderly smile at her, swallowing the lump as he lets a tear fall. your one-year-old innocently wipes it away. she must’ve got her kindness from you. he smiles, because thats what made him fall for you in the first place.

now, your initials have changed. guess he’s gotta fix those math equations, huh?

JUST SAY THE WORD.

[wosoamazing]

Mini Football & Leah

Blurb | Diabetes & Love Series

Let me know if you have any blurb or one-shot requests/ideas for this series. Also hope you are enjoying reading them, as I am enjoying writing them.

“Less go home, I’ll take y/n to her practice tonight,” Leah told your Mum

“No, but it’s her first one and I don’t want to miss it,” your Mum croaked out.

“I will take lots of photos and videos I promise, and plus, I’ve never had a mini Russo date yet, Lotte has, Beth and Viv, Steph, Lia, Katie and Caitlin-” Leah was interrupted by Alessia breaking out into a coughing fit, which had her running to the bathroom, Lotte going after her. 

“Leah, we’re going home,” Lotte told Leah as they walked back out of the bathroom, “you promise you all good to take her?” Lotte asked

“Yes of course, I promise,” Leah replied.

“Please call if you need anything, even if you are slightly uncertain about something, I don’t-” “I know it’s scary Less, it’s her first time playing a sport and you don’t know how much that affects her, but I promise I will keep an eye on her. I’ve got her, you just make sure you get better,” Leah told your Mum as Lotte packed up all their belongings.

“Right, that’s you dressed, you’ve got your boots?” Leah asked as she checked she had everything you needed in your bag.

“Yep,” you replied, before taking Leah’s hand she held out for you and walking out the door with her.

-

You were definitely the most ‘professional’ looking one at training, most likely a consequence of having the Lionesses’ Captain getting you ready, Leah helped you tie your bright pink boots before taking heaps of photos for your Mum.

Before you went onto the mini pitch she pricked your finger to check the reading match your sensor which it did, doing the same thing during your break. Just to give herself the reassurance. She continuously watched your sugar levels whilst making sure to get some photos here and there to show your Mum.

“Le, I feel funny,” you told her as you sat down in her lap, leaning into her, training having just finished.

“Okay, let me check your sugars,” Leah finger pricked you and mumbled ‘shit’ under her breath, you were sitting at 3, she had been checking your blood sugar consistently.

“Hey, is everything okay?” your coach asked as she approached you both.

“Um, she just has Type 1 Diabetes, and her sensor is saying she is in range but her blood sugar is at a 3, her Mum is going to kill me, I said I would watch her carefully,” Leah rambled.

“Oh, her sensor might’ve fallen loose during training, it might be a good idea to think about taping it for next time,” Leah looked at her in awe, “sorry if I’m overstepping, both my children have TD1 too, if you want I can take you both into the club house and help you change her dexcom, I’m assuming you have a spare one?”

“Um, yeah, it’s in her bag somewhere. Um,” Leah said as she started to pack everything up, she followed your coach into the club house where she sat down at a chair. Your coach did everything so smoothly just like your Mum did, and you were glad she was helping you.

“Thank you so much for helping, you’re a lifesaver,”

“It’s no problem at all, have a good night,” and a good night was not what Leah had at all, well it was a good night until you were asleep, she let you sleep in her bed, however she didn’t sleep much. Too worried about you getting a high or low blood sugar and her not being awake to deal with it, she didn’t think she could ever look Alessia, or anyone else for that matter, in the eye again if something happened to you on her watch.

“Good Morning,” you said beamingly as you arrived back home, before running into the kitchen to help Lotte with breakfast.

“Are you okay Leah? Did you sleep last night? Did something happen?” “No, no nothing happened during the night, and no incidents other than the sensor, I just couldn’t bring myself to sleep, I was too worried about something happening to her,” Leah admitted.

“Oh, I’m sorry that’s my fault, I was meant to message you, she doesn’t usually go low during the night and she actually thankfully will wake up and wake me up if her levels go high or low,”

“I don’t think I would’ve been able to sleep even if you told me that,” Leah sighed.

“Go up to the spare room. Sleep. I’m not letting you back behind the wheel like this, I’ll wake you in an hour or so,”

[urhoneycombwitch]

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill. 

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days. 

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place. 

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you. 

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite. 

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge. 

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs). 

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue. 

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties. 

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.) 

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course. 

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you. 

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school. 

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before… 

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend. 

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event. 

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room. 

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh. 

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space. 

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts. 

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise. 

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals. 

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily. 

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form. 

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are. 

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda. 

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes. 

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak. 

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet. 

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm. 

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel. 

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.  

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours. 

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here. 

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?” 

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position. 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds. 

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude. 

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him. 

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there. 

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours. 

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone. 

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you. 

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you. 

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside. 

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks. 

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year. 

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in. 

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

[bumblesimagines]

The Torment of Loving

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Jordan's broken the first and most fundamental rule of becoming friends with benefits with someone: falling in love. Now, they have to deal with the consequences.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Gen V warnings, mentions of disapproving parents, drug usage, sexual content, Jordan pls get a therapist jordan pls, falling for the fwb trope, implied unrequited feelings

~~~

There was nothing Jordan Li hated more than not having control over their feelings. 

It reminded them all too well of the trapped, suffocating feeling of being around their scrutinizing parents. They loved them, just as long as they remained in the body they'd come out of the womb in and just as long as they remained pitch fucking perfect. Their grades, their clothes, their popularity, anyone they showed a smidge of interest in. It all had to be perfect for their parents otherwise they'd spew a big lecture that'd sucker punch the air out of their lungs and make tears spring to their eyes when they listened to the disappointment dripping off their sugar-coated tones.

So, when that suffocating feeling reared its head again and slithered around Jordan's chest, constricting their heart and making their blood buzz, they despised the reason for it. They despised the out-of-control sense that filled their head and the fact the cause of their newfound troubles wasn't over their parents or losing points or getting a bad grade on an assignment. It'd been over a goddamn guy. 

A guy who, more often than not, had them listening to his every word as if he were a preacher speaking to the most loyal devotee; a guy who could make their heat warm and ears dust with soft pink despite the playful scowl on their lips; a guy who could make heat shoot right to their gut and make them weak at the knees with just a few teasing words. Jordan found it embarrassing. Andre and Luke enjoyed teasing them over their frat boy-like tendencies, and yet there they were, acting like a little high schooler with their first boyfriend; and they weren't even a couple.

(Y/N)'s half-lidded eyes skimmed the label on one of Jordan's foundation bottles, the blunt they'd been exchanging hanging loosely from his lips and filling the air with the smell of weed. Jordan watched him from their spot on the bed, limbs sprawled out and head resting back on one of the soft pillows.

"Bet you don't even use all this shit." (Y/N) murmured, tugging the blunt from his lips and exhaling the smoke into the already semi-clouded room. For whatever safety concern the school deemed necessary, the large windows in each dorm were permanently sealed shut, forcing them to either keep the door cracked open and risk a staff member catching them or deal with the smoke until the vents took care of it. 

Jordan merely hummed, more focused on how (Y/N)'s sweatpants hung from his hips, only needing a careful tug to slump down his legs. Their lips slowly curved into a lazy grin at the knowledge, their eyes dragging back up until they found his face once more. The glass of the bottle clacked with the desk of their vanity when (Y/N) set it down, his legs bringing him back toward Jordan to offer them the last hit and head finally turning toward him. 

Out of instinct, Jordan morphed into their femme form and sat up in their bed, the shirt and briefs they'd been wearing feeling slightly baggier against their body. They wrapped their lips around the blunt, dark eyes ensuring to hold eye contact with him as they inhaled deeply. (Y/N) chuckled and shook his head, setting the blunt aside on the cigarette tray on the nightstand. Jordan exhaled the smoke, the buzz in their head making them hyperaware of almost everything; from the way the sheets rubbed against their skin to the subtle yet audible beat of (Y/N)'s heart. 

"You're a pain, Jordan." (Y/N) said with a soft sigh, tone teasing yet with a hint of exasperation. "You've had an attitude all day and then practically drag me in here the minute school ends." 

Jordan shrugged, unable to find an excuse for their hot and cold behavior. They'd woken up tired from a night of tossing and turning whilst they'd argued with themselves about their feelings toward him. By the time the sun rose, they'd finally come to terms with the fact they were indeed agonizingly head over heels for a fuckbuddy. Their irritation from lack of sleep and bubbling anticipation mixed with jealousy when (Y/N) chose to sit beside another classmate instead of them, only intensifying when Jordan watched them flirt the whole damn class. They couldn't help it; lashing out was their biggest defense mechanism, and apologizing never came easy to them. 

"You like my attitude." Jordan grinned and slumped back into the pillows, their hand raising and fingers wiggling to beckon him closer. (Y/N) rolled his eyes, his knee digging into the mattress and making it creak softly as he reached back to slip off his shoe. He did similarly with the other before carefully toppling on top of Jordan, forcing their knees apart. (Y/N) released a low noise, his head tucking itself into the space between their neck and shoulder. 

A twinge of longing struck Jordan, their eyes raising to stare at the ceiling above them. Relationships had always been shaky ground for them, a thin tightrope with a long drop into heartache below. They'd suffered plenty of rejection from their parents, especially their father who always hoped his 'son' would return to him. It was ironic, in a way, how much everyone longed for their masc form but they only hooked up with (Y/N) in their femme form. It was automatic for them, really. Guys preferred her and girls preferred him, but no one ever wanted both. Besides, the only time they'd ever seen (Y/N) show interest in a guy had been during a dumb drunk game of spin the bottle where he and Luke had aggressively made out to the amusement of everyone, including Cate. 

"Your heart's beating really fast, J." (Y/N) yawned, breath fanning against Jordan's neck and making the hair on their body rise with goosebumps that quickly followed. He lifted his head, the lazy smirk on his face a signature look of his that Jordan had grown to look forward to each day, even if it meant rolling their eyes excessively at it.

"Yeah, 'cause-" 

Jordan sighed blissfully (something that made their cheeks warm with embarrassment) when (Y/N) cut off their snarky response with a kiss. Slow, and lazy, the sort of kisses that'd typically have Jordan scoffing and wanting something quicker. Kissing was intimate; the quicker and rougher, the less room there was to allow anything other than the feeling of desire to form. That ship had long sailed for them, though. (Y/N) gently dug his teeth into Jordan's bottom lip, his fingertips slipping beneath the gray tank top and slowly sliding around their stomach. 

"Tease," Jordan hissed, pulling their lip free when a trickle of saliva threatened to slip from the corner of their mouth. (Y/N) only chuckled in return, his wrists forcing the hem of the shirt upward until the shirt was bundled right above their newly exposed tits. The smirk returned and his head lolled to the side as his fingers massaged the underside of their breasts. Their chest began rising and falling with rapid, expectant breathing. "You're suck a dick, (L/N)." 

"It's fun watching the all-mighty Jordan squirm." He answered with a teasing coo, and the thought of shifting crossed their mind but they quickly shoved the urge away.

They enjoyed a good wrestle with (Y/N) before anything sexual began, and as much as they liked the idea of having some sort of upper hand during, they simply couldn't risk making him uncomfortable. Being rejected when their heart skipped every time they locked eyes simply couldn't happen. The very idea of it made their heart lurch and throat tighten with unease. 

Before their thoughts could drag them out of the fun, they huffed at him, "Come on," They groaned half-heartedly, as if the way their hips rolled came from anything else other than the kneading and massaging. "Get on with it al-"

A sharp, hissed curse escaped them, head digging back into the black pillow case as their mouth fell open at the combined sensation of (Y/N) latching onto one of their hardened buds while simultaneously grinding against them, the fabric of the briefs pressing against their heat and leaving a wet patch behind. Jordan's blunt nails dug into the back of his shirt, fingers curling and threatening to shred the shirt at the feeling of his hot tongue swirling around their nipple, a strangled whine falling from their lips when he dragged his teeth over it before swiftly switching to give the other attention. 

"Jesus," Jordan exhaled, cheeks ablaze and hazy mind struggling to focus on not losing their grip and accidentally shifting. They'd always been used to being the one making others squirm and flush prettily but they hardly minded giving up some control and allowing themselves to act like a pillow princess. 

(Y/N) released them with a soft pop and drew back to admire Jordan's heaving, saliva-covered chest with a satisfied grin. He grasped the collar of his shirt and tugged it off, giving it a brief check over any tears. "I still can't believe you tore my shirt, J." He muttered with a light huff and Jordan giggled at the memory. 

"I bought you a new one, you fucking crybaby." 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes and tossed the shirt aside blindly, leaning down to press a kiss between their chest before littering kisses down to their abdomen and below their belly button. Jordan raised their hips when he tugged at the waistband of the briefs, their face no doubt flushed red as he peeled the briefs down their legs and arched a brow at the evident wet spot. Jordan lightly kicked his thigh when he snickered, their eyes automatically rolling. 

"Not that I'm complaining," (Y/N) started, letting the briefs fall on the floor. He dragged his palm along their inner thigh, pausing inches away from where Jordan wanted- no, needed him the most. Jordan's lip jutted out to form an annoyed pout. "How come you never want to fuck when you're a dude?" He tilted his head.

"W-What?" Jordan exhaled shakily, eyes wide and head jerking to look at him so quick it almost gave them neck pain. They scrambled to prop themselves up on their elbows, a thousand questions and words running through their hazy head but their mouth refused to form any coherent sentences. "I- I- I thought you- that you didn't like guys?" 

(Y/N) stared at them blankly. "Jordan."

"You- You never- How was I supposed to know?!" A long groan of disappointment left their throat when (Y/N) pulled his hand back, the look on his face practically calling them the biggest dumbass alive. Delight curled around their gut and they pursed their lips, shifting into their masc form and studying the indifference on his face. 

"You know how many times I've slept with Luke and Cate? Or Andre?" 

"You've what?" Jordan's brows knitted, more out of furious jealousy over confusion. They shot upright, their hand clamping around the nape of (Y/N)'s neck and fingers digging into his skin. "Why- I thought I was-" Jordan scowled. "Why the fuck do you need them when you have me?" 

"Well, I can't exactly do some Eiffel Tower shit with just you, can I?" (Y/N) grinned cheekily, and it suddenly made sense why Luke and Cate had always been incredibly chill about the other kissing and cozying up to (Y/N). Jordan chalked it up to them being secure enough in their relationship to not care but the new knowledge abruptly made them question every innocent interaction between him and their friends.

"(Y/N)- fuck."

The high-pitched whimper that left them was downright humiliating, eyes squeezing shut and forehead dropping onto his shoulder when (Y/N) wrapped his hand around their leaking length and gave it a light squeeze. Jordan grunted, teeth digging into their lip almost hard enough to draw blood before (Y/N) pushed their shoulder and forced them onto their back once more. Jordan's heels dug into the mattress, and (Y/N) barely had to do any work as Jordan began rutting up into his hand, movements clumsy and increasingly desperate. 

"Thought you were smarter than that, J." (Y/N)'s tone dripped with amusement and Jordan's second scowl proved incredibly short-lived when (Y/N) swooped down to press their lips together in a needy, lip-bruising kiss. Jordan tore away, their back and neck arching at another squeeze, the pad of (Y/N)'s thumb pressing along a vein and forcing incoherent babbling out of the supe. 

With their neck bare and inviting, (Y/N) leaned down to suckle bruises into their skin, teeth sinking until they left imprints that left Jordan's mind woozy and jumbled. Between the desperation in chasing their release and the sensation of (Y/N) marking their neck, it only took (Y/N) leaning down even further and giving their still slick chest some more attention for Jordan's movements to turn sloppy. (Y/N) grinned against his skin, moving his hand at an unrelenting pace even as Jordan covered their stomach and chest in sticky release. 

"I love you," Jordan whined between babbles and noises, the words barely registering until they were a panting, almost teary-eyed mess staring up at him. (Y/N) retracted his hand, smearing the mess Jordan had left behind along their chest until his hand was mostly clean. They flushed at the way their length twitched at the action, the energy they lost returning faster than the average supe's due to their abilities in masc form. 

"I'm hungry." (Y/N) sighed, and Jordan found themselves both thankful and dejected he'd ignored the confession. He disappeared from on top of them, reappearing by the drawer and taking out a rag, cleaning his hand first before teleporting to the bed and cleaning the mess off Jordan. "Let's get Vought-A-Burger, and then we'll see how much you can take in this form, J." 

[musouie]

précis. you help out omega!suguru during his heat

contents: omegaverse, blowjob, gn!reader, light somnophilia, anal fingering, dom!reader, sub!suguru, established relationship

thinking about omega!suguru, who gets his heat in the middle of the night. he’s a writhing mess, breathing harshly against his pillow as his cock weeps onto the sheets, back arching like a bow about to snap.

his skin is searing, clammy and feverish; his scent heady and honeyed and spilling into the air with the fragrance of ripe peaches — ripe for the taking, ripe for someone to sink their teeth into. (and suguru would love that, wouldn’t he? to get his neck bitten open, until his skin bruises beautifully and the taste of copper stains his tongue.)

he whines, and tears slip past his long, pretty eyelashes as he blearily watches you slumber on, blissfully oblivious to his pathetic state — his undoing.

there’s a sense of humiliation burning low in his stomach when he sheds his pyjama pants and pushes his pelvis against your backside, rutting himself helplessly against the swell of your ass, mouthing mindlessly against the back of your neck like a man starved. (and suguru is, in a way; fervently and utterly ravenous for the feel of your flesh — the warmth of your mouth, the salt, the sweat — and he longs to peel that flesh back and bury himself deep within, to feel the flutter of your heart when it beats in time with his own.)

he makes a little noise again. this time, it rouses you from your sleep, albeit languidly.

your eyelids flutter thrice, a palm moving to rub away sleep as you groan, the other reaching behind you once you register that something warm is pressed flush against your body.

your fingers touch slick skin, and when you bring them to the front of your face, they’re glossy with a fluid that is neither saliva nor perspiration (you know what it is, you recognise the tangy scent wafting about, and a shiver runs down the length of your spine at the implications.) 

slowly, you turn over, and come face-to-face with a sight so debauched it has your breath coming out in a rush, a huff.

suguru’s hair is untied, the strands spilling like ink over his shoulders, knuckles ivory from how hard he’s gripping the cotton sheets. his lips are parted, spit smeared against his chin, eyelashes so clumped together by his tears that they resemble the legs of a black widow.

as he trembles, your gaze flits down to his swollen cock, flushed with blood, the tip leaking pearls of precum and the dark curls at the base gleaming with his slick —

— and then you sniff.

a nectarine scent coats the tip of your tongue, rich and cloying and sweet, so very sweet, and your mouth waters with the urge to taste him, to gorge yourself on his flesh.

“sugu’,” you coo. “you could’ve woken me earlier. what were you thinking, hm? does it feel good using me to get off, like i’m some little fucktoy?”

his breath hitches at that, and a shudder rips through him as he keens, sharp and high, so loud it grates on your ears. the spider’s legs flutter once, twice, and then they’re wet with the prickle of tears that threaten to spill over. “hurts,” he whispers. “please, make it stop.”

“that’s all you had to say, baby. no need to be so shy.” and his scent turns even sweeter, thickens like sugar. he mewls as you push him on his back, parting his legs wide, and his hole is a little pucker, red and slick and inviting.

your teeth throb with the urge to bite.

you settle between his legs instead, lowering your head towards his weeping cock. the musk is potent, and it fills your senses until all you can focus on is the slickness dripping down his thighs, the swollen, cherry-red swell of his cock, the blotchy flush that creeps down his neck and blooms across his chest.

you lick a broad stripe up his cock, and suguru jolts, body trembling, hands scrabbling for purchase against the sheets.

the action yields another trickle of fluid, and his taste is ambrosial, spilling upon your tongue with such potency that it has you reeling, mouth watering for more. you pull back, letting the saliva pool in the well of your mouth, and spit, watching it dribble obscenely along his shaft, down his balls and the cleft of his ass.

your fingers dig into his hip and you suckle the head of his cock gently, laving the hot, leaking tip with kitten licks. 

he whimpers, and the sound is like the cry of a wounded animal, and his thighs squeeze about your head, knees pressing into your ears until you think they might cave in. you take him fully, down to the root, and his moan sounds like the bellow of a beast.

“fuck,” he cries.

it’s the only word that tumbles from his lips amidst the litany of broken words and half-baked phrases, the rest melting into a garbled mess as you bob your head, sucking him down eagerly.

his hands are gentle but bruising as he thrusts into your mouth. hips canting upwards, his taste spilling profusely onto your tongue, and he lets out a choked cry before he cums, release heavy and bitter.

it dribbles from the corners of your mouth, sticky white strings. and he sobs, squirms, and his face is so red, his eyes are so wet, glistening and glassy and so, so pretty.

“look at me, baby,” and his cloudy gaze snaps towards yours. “don’t look away, not even once.”

you push two fingers into his heat, and they slip in easily, the tight, silky walls of muscle clenching around you. you deftly crook your digits, scissoring him open, and suguru shudders, nails scraping against the sheets.

“you’re so, so tight.” you hook your fingers, feeling your way around his inner walls, brushing against his prostate, and his reaction is immediate. a choked, strangled cry tears itself from his throat, and his back arches sharply, thighs trembling as he moans his pleasure.

heat simmers low in your belly, and the smell of him is everywhere — peaches and peaches and peaches (fruit and flesh and fruit and flesh).

you work him open until his hole is gaping and sucks your third finger in greedily, and he whines your name over and over again — a needy chant, a praise, a prayer.

when you moan around him, his back lifts from the bed and he unfurls; unfurls and unravels and comes apart, a thread held by a needle — one last tug and the string would snap, and everything would fall apart — and he wants this, wants to break, wants to shatter beneath the searing heat of your mouth, the flicker of your tongue, the pinch of your nails —

— so he breaks, and his release is a stream, pearly-white and thick, and his tears are silver, and he is beautiful.

a bitter tang coats the roof of your mouth, and you swallow, throat bobbing. when you lift your head, suguru is still looking at you, eyes glassy and lidded, and his lips part; he breathes out a reverent, barely-there whisper, voice soft and sweet:

“...can you do that again?”

𝐦���𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐞 © 2024 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. it is prohibited to reproduce, distribute, or transmit my works in any form or by any means! ﾉ masterlist

[marichild]

satosugu fics i entreat everyone to read

these are just some of the amazing fics I’ve read! I highly recommend every single one to my fellow satosugu lovers. you won’t regret it, I promise.

Carry Me Home by @valleykey [58.4k, completed, T]

The boy shifts on his feet. “The year is two thousand and eighteen? Common Era?” Slowly, smile still plastic on his face, Suguru faces Satoru. This fucking dumbass. “Satoru,” he says, dangerous edge to his voice, “what did you do?” Satoru makes some bastardization of a sound, half between a laugh and a cough.  “...Whoops?”  “I,” Suguru grits, pinching two fingers together, “am this close to mass murder.” He’s joking.  Probably.  ///OR: Shortly before Geto would have massacred a village, he and Gojo are thrust eleven years forward into a would-have-been future that Geto is conspicuously absent from.

愛のある場所; river of light (that brings me to you) by @yuzudetergent [66.8k, completed, T]

A lesson in love is a lesson in swimming. Except for Suguru, it's getting dropped into the deep end with the tide licking at his neck, no kickboard or life preserver keeping him afloat. (Or: This is how Satoru finds the ocean.)

achilles, only the dead stay seventeen forever by getou_suguru (dheiress) [7.9k, ongoing, T]

He looks like a little kid, insouciant and irreverent, smiling at you like that. This is how you want to remember him. “Winter snow melts into Spring, of course!” You open your mouth to laugh and laugh and laugh and— His breath tastes, inexplicably, like spun sugar and honey on your tongue.  (Gojou Satoru is not a God, not yet. But He will be and you think (you know) that you will be  the first to kneel in worship and offer Him your blood, your flesh. Build Him a temple inside the circle of your arms until He sinks inside your ribcage, there to dwell safe and sound and beating just for you.)  ((Pay attention, now. This is a story about how a boy—the Hallowed one, the enlightenment of all, the one who rose high above others, the one and only—fell.))

Always an Angel (Never a God) by 0atmlk [44.6k, ongoing, M]

"The first time I saw the sunset here, I wanted to send you a picture."  Suguru looked at him, surprised. "Why didn't you?"  "Because I knew you’d been here before on your own, it was probably something you'd seen plenty of times." Satoru paused. "But I almost did. Opened it and everything to send to you. Then I saw the date of the last message you sent. We were pushing year three. So I didn't." . . .  Suguru finds Satoru at fifteen. Satoru finds him at twenty-eight.

I’m Sorry: In Various Translations by @koifishscribbles [45.9k, ongoing, M]

The coffee in Satoru’s stomach curdles. He feels the weight of every one if those eight years roll through his entire body like an earthquake. All the missed sleep clings to his eyes, and the unsent texts threaten to erupt from his mouth. Getou Suguru. It is not that his stitches unravel. Those took years to craft, cinched with vitriol, and won’t be undone in a single moment. It’s his very being that unspools onto the dirty linoleum floor. He wants Suguru to pick him up and untangle the length of him. His fingers once again becoming familiar as they expertly craft him into something new, better.  —— Gojo Satoru has not seen his ex, Getou Suguru, since college. Until he shows up one day teaching in the classroom across the hall from him.

an anthology of bad ideas by ilovegetosuguru [9.5k, completed, gen]

Gojo panics and asks a very attractive stranger to be his fake boyfriend for a wedding.  Here’s the problem — there’s no wedding.  (Fake Dating AU)

april pink by @valleykey [3k, completed, gen]

“Dude,” Satoru says, first thing off the train, glasses sliding down, wide eyes peering over the rim, “you have, like, flowers. In your lungs.” “Oh really,” Suguru says, dry, “I hadn't noticed.”

Puppet On A String by @killjoyproductions [6.8k, completed, E]

“Huh,” he muses. “Are you… saving yourself for marriage?”  “Nope.”  “Are you asexual?”  Satoru shakes his head. “I’m not asexual, just a virgin.”

Autonomic Breath by finalproject [10.9k, completed, E]

She turns to Satoru and asks, "When did you know?"

Lies That Bind by Anonymous [48.1k, ongoing, E]

“Really now,” Gakuganji snorted, doubtful. “How convenient. Who is this alpha, then?” And of course, Satoru had seen that question coming as soon as his claim of having a mate was halfway out of his mouth, but by that point he was already talking and it was too late to stop. “So nosy.” He wagged his finger in a tut-tut motion in the geezer’s face, watching him turn a horrible shade of angry red. “It’s Geto Suguru, of course.” Satoru's sick and tired of all the higher-ups insisting he needs to find an alpha and settle down just because he's an omega, and the simple lie that Suguru is his mate seems like the easiest way to get some peace and quiet. What could go wrong?

like the tides, never standing still. by antepuer [1.1k, completed, T]

“I fucking hate it sometimes.” Suguru taps the ash off and looks at him. Puppy-dog eyes, has no idea what Satoru refers to, but it would be far from the first time. “What do you mean?” “Being queer.” He finally admits. “It fucking sucks.”

once we have sufficiently tortured one another by irrevenance [4.6k, completed, E]

Suguru’s throat goes dry. “You’re no longer a sorcerer,” he realizes, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat in response to the sick joke that has laid itself before him. “And you came to me?” “Yes,” Satoru says pleasantly. “What will you do about it,” and here he lowers both his eyelashes and his tone, a mockery of seduction, “Getou-sama?”

the dream house by irrevenance [6.1k, completed, E]

Suguru adopts two little girls, marries Satoru, and becomes a teacher. It’s not enough.

where shall we go tomorrow? by elivellichor [15k, ongoing, T]

“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck do you want from me?” a raspy voice hisses, breath on the shell of his ear, knocking Suguru out of his daze. Suguru tilts his chin up to better meet his pursuit face to face and goes breathless. Enraged and fiery cerulean eyes stare down at him with a twisted expression. This child is undeniably Gojo Satoru. He can’t imagine any other with a disposition so fiery and confrontational.  Or: an indulgent age-regression fic featuring One (1) Baby Gojo Satoru and One (1) Very Tired Geto Suguru feat. healing <3

Caesura by @cielelyse [85.5k, completed, M]

The first time they meet, Suguru and Satoru do not like each other. Arrogant, cocky, insufferable, they think. Despite the smirks Shoko gives Suguru, or the sighs Yaga gives Satoru, they do not like each other. Until a mission changes that.

it's not gay unless the domains touch by @hollow-lime-green [40.2k, completed, E]

Funny thing is, when you put up walls made of infinity, you don’t expect people to start slipping in. And you certainly don’t expect to start wanting them to. Gojo Satoru never had a chance to get used to people touching him. Suguru gets that, and he’s happy to help. That’s what good friends do, right? Alternatively: Geto Suguru is the most oblivious man alive.

two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive. That’s how they got here. That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this.

BONUS! Baby Mine by @seaemberthesecond

There was something just slightly off in every interaction between Gojo-sensei and Fushiguro and once Yuji’d begun to notice it, he couldn’t unsee it. It wasn’t a bad kind of off – at least he didn’t think so – but it was just different from the way either of them acted around everyone else. * Or, Yuji's journey to discovering that Megumi is Gojo's baby boy, featuring: an insane amount of simping, the mundane indignities of being a parent, and a lot of Yuji snooping in places he really shouldn't be.

(aka, that fic I go back to all the time. gojo being megumi’s dad will never not be one of my favorite things ever.) (clearly)

[hunterofartemis7]

Pt.10

Damain: well?

Asshole doctor: I have nothing to apologize for! She’s just a teenager with and her pregnancy hormones make her exaggerate!

Jason; pregnancy hormones!?

Raven:…..

Kori: shit

Tim: you’re pregnant!?

Raven:..*nods, tearing up again* I wanted to tell you myself…..😣

Jason: *draws his knife* okay so not only will you pay for making her cry the first time and insulting her, but also for ruining her chance to tell us she’s pregnant on her own terms!

Asshole doctor: you can’t do anything to me! We’re in a hospital! The security will have you arrested!

Tim: good point. *drags him outside by his hair*

Damian: *smirks*

Dick: we got this asshole covered little d. Go back with Rae and see your baby.

Raven: thanks dick..

Dick: don’t mention it, and congratulations!! *hugs her tightly* we are so celebrating after now I gotta go! *runs after Tim*

Jason: *ruffles her hair* congratulations kiddo. *follows dick and Tim outside*

Very Nice doctor: Miss? Are you ready?

Raven: *nods*

Very Nice doctor: alright. *brings her back in the room with Damian and Kori* Did he check any vitals before being an ass?

Raven: no…

Very nice doctor: I’m sorry Hun. I don’t know why he wasn’t fired yet. *checks her blood pressure, blood sugar, heart rate breathing etc.*

Damian: *staring her down like a hawk*

Very nice doctor: don’t worry sir, I’m got gonna hurt her

Damian: hm

Very nice doctor: well your BP is a bit high, but that’s to be expected considering what just happened. Blood sugar is also a bit lower than we’d like, but Your heart and lungs sound good.

Raven:..is that gonna hurt the baby?

Very nice doctor: right now it shouldn’t. You’re stressed so it’s understandable to have a higher BP than normal. Your blood sugar is more what I’m worried about. Have you eaten anything today?

Raven: yeah..but I can’t keep anything down

Very nice doctor: how often are you throwing up?

Raven: pretty often..I don’t exact times

VND: that’s okay hun. And it says in your records your anemic right?

Raven: *nods*

VND: are you on any iron supplements?

Raven: no ma’am..

VND: okay. If its alright I’d like to put you on some for the rest of the pregnancy, as well as prenatal vitamins and some meds to help with the nausea

Kori: are all these meds good for her?

VND: yes. One is just vitamins, the other is similar, mostly just to get some iron in her system. The nausea meds are the only “medication” she’ll actually be on. And don’t worry, I won’t prescribe her anything that wasn’t safe for her and baby.

Kori: okay.

VND: now with all that out of the way, you ready to see your baby?

Raven: yes!!

VND: *smiles* okay, lay down hun.

Raven: *lays down on the bed*

VND: *puts a blanket over her and pulls her hospital gown up* fair warning, this is gonna be cold. *gets that weird jell stuff that they use for ultrasound and puts it on her belly*

Raven: *flinched from the cold*

VND: sorry

Raven: it’s okay..

Damian: *holds her hand beside her*

Raven: *small squeeze*

VND: you ready?

Raven: yes

VND: *puts the wand (I think that’s what it’s called) on her abdomen*

Raven: *watching the screen waiting to see the baby*

VND: *points at the small bean* and there’s your baby

Raven:..🥹

Damian: *smiles with happy tears in his eyes* it’s small🥹

VND: yes it is. Your 6 weeks right now, and baby has a strong heart beat

Kori: 🥹 it’s so precious..

Raven: *happy crying* our baby..*looks at Damian* I can’t wait to meet it..🥹

Damian: *kisses her and her belly* I can’t wait either. I’m already in love with it

VND: you two are adorable

*meanwhile outside*

Cop: so one more time….why are you beating up a doctor?🤦🏻‍♀️

Jason: cause he is very very rude and unprofessional to his patients and made our sister in law to be cry.

Tim: and we have about 200+ different complaints about him that the hospital keeps throwing in the trash

Cop:….i don’t get paid enough

[brittle-doughie]

Since that one anon that gave us the idea of beasts filling in the role of the ancients, image the potential traumatic events that will happen to them

Shadow Milk watches, body and mind tired after the amount of blows he's taken from Pure vanilla cookie... Pure vanilla smiles, caressing his face, finally his predecessor has calmed down... Now he will give him the opportunity for him to 'ascend', along with everyone he loves with him... There's no need to fear... Pure vanilla will help him

Eternal Sugar is backed into a corner, she underestimated the power of the Lover, now she suffers the consequences, her body littered with scars and her wings badly damaged, she looks to see the disappointed look of the lover, still maddened with mania, she was so excited to finally fight her predecessor, only to be disappointed by a LACKLUSTER performance... Oh well, atleast the fun part will commence, readying her shield to BASH and MUTILATE Eternal sugar, before taking the other half of the soul jam...

Mystic Flour made a grave mistake when she thought negotiating with a beast would be a good idea, now overpowered by the frost Dark Cacao brings, she watches as her comrades she brought with her froze, Cloud haetae being the last before succumbing to the frost... Dark Cacao scoffs by her foolish determination to fix everything, and now he will deliver the price, by freezing her weak body and claiming the soul jam for himself

Golden cheese triumphs over the battle between her and Burning Spice, how generous of him to lose so easily by the gleaming goddess, Burning Spice screams in agony as Golden cheese forcefully pulls the soul jam imbedded in his chest out by force. A loud cry of victory can be heard by her and her golden army, she has won the battle and now, her prize will be Burning Spice's Kingdom, who she will gladly take after she takes him as a slave and bargaining chip...

Silent Salt coughs out blood soaked petals, this little revolution of his will not move the foundation the Lady of the Lilies has already made in the Silver Kingdom, Unity will only get you so far, before those below you will be out of your control, to her, they need order and laws to establish stability in a group. White Lily looks at Silent salt, it was a pity that this cookie would waste their precious life to fight her, when he could've become her high enforcer. In any case, with Silent salt out of the way, she is one step closer into achieving her goals, she will make sure that the world will be in order...

Now watch as all of them get their magical girl transformation-

Yeah, the Ancient Beast Order cannot get the other halves of the soul jam, it’s all over when that happens since they’ll be too strong for anyone to fight.

“The Enemy of My Enemy” would come into play, the Beasts having to collaborate with the Cookie Kingdom in order to fight back against the new beasts.

[wellextol]

Sugar Balance Review - Exploring the Potential of This Blood Sugar Stabilization SupplementBalancing blood sugar levels is crucial to overall health, particularly for individuals struggling with insulin resistance or those aiming to prevent such conditions. Sugar Balance, a supplement designed for blood sugar stabilization, has gained attention in this context. Examine Sugar Balance to determine its efficacy in managing blood sugar levels and reducing insulin resistance.

[cosmicdahlias]

The Gunslinger Atop A Chestnut Mare

MINORS DNI

You’re a young widow on your way home from your friend’s engagement party when you’re ambushed by five armed men. You think this is the end for you until you hear the sound of hooves.

warnings: gun violence, death, mild age gap (reader is in their 20’s), oral, p in v

this is a sister fic to “Low Honor, Lower Morals”. i really enjoyed writing that one so i wanted to see the contrast in how i’d write a version with him having high honor. this is also my longest fic to date!

You made your way home on the streets of Saint Denis from your closest friend’s engagement party. It was a wonderful night, your friend and her betrothed had been together for years so this was a long time coming.

You yourself were a young widow, still in your 20’s. Your husband, Peter, had been killed in a tragic robbery gone wrong two years prior. He was the son of a sugar baron and thus had an incredibly sizable inheritance, making him a target for criminals.

You had left the theater together after seeing a stage play when you were cornered by a group of armed men. Peter tried to fight back, putting himself between you and the gunmen, but they shot him. You watched Peter die in your arms.

You stopped at nothing to bring his killers to justice. It was long, frustrating work, the police of Saint Denis were notoriously corrupt and incompetent. You had to pull a lot of strings, pay a few officers under the table here and there, but it was worth it. You would do anything to make the men who took your husband from you pay.

After two years of what seemed like stagnant progress there had finally been a break in the case, suspects had been identified, members of a local gang. All the police needed to do now was track them down. You didn’t have a lot of faith that it would happen any time soon, but it was all you had.

The thought of Peter’s death hung heavy in your mind as you walked down the street. You rounded the corner when five men appeared, all of them armed. The leader grinned.

“Hey there pretty girl, remember us?”

You recognized them immediately and your heart sank, they were Peter’s murderers. You turned to run, but the leader seized your wrist and pulled you into a dimly lit alley.

“We know you been havin’ the cops sniffin’ around, tryin’a find us.”

“I’ll give you anything, just don’t kill me, please!” You said as tears began to fall.

“Ain’t nothin’ you can give us. We��re gonna send you off to that husband of yours and don’t you dare think of runnin’, cause even if you escape we’ll find you. We know where you live, girl.” He sneered.

He pressed the pistol to your temple, you shut your eyes tight, praying it would be so quick that you wouldn’t feel a thing and you’d be with your husband again when you heard a whinny and the sound of hooves on stone.

You opened your eyes to see a gunslinger at the edge of the alley atop a beautiful chestnut mare. He reached for his revolver and raised it high in the air, firing a deafening warning shot.

He spoke in a deep rural accent. “Hands off the girl.”

The leader cackled, pointing his gun at him, one hand still on you. “Or what, cowboy? You wanna play hero? Come over here and see what happens to idiots who don’t know their place, but first I’m gonna paint the walls with this pretty little girl’s brai-“

The gunslinger shot him and he collapsed to the ground, dead. The others turned their guns at him, but he quickly fired bullets into their heads with a speed unlike anything you had ever seen, blood spattering on the ground, all of them meeting the same fate as their leader.

The gunslinger jumped off his horse and approached you.

He spoke softly, his eyes scanning you up and down. “You alright? Did they hurt you?”

You shook your head, words completely failing you. You broke down and sobbed, falling to your knees. He caught you and pulled you into a warm embrace so close that you could smell him, a scent of cedar and lye soap. You buried your face in his chest and bawled, tears staining his shirt.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

He stood you up, his hands on your shoulders.

“Where’s your husband? Does he know-“

“I- I’m a widow.” You hiccuped between violent sobs.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I saw your ring and I thought…” He trailed off.

“No, I just wear it to feel closer to him.”

“I’m sure he was a good man.”

“He really was.”

“What did they want with you anyway? Why was they so set on killin’ you?”

“They- they were part of a gang, they killed my husband and I’ve been working with the police to find them. They caught wind that I was looking for them somehow.”

“I’m so sorry, you’re far too young to be caught up in all of this.”

He cupped your cheek and wiped away your tears.

“Let’s get you out of here. C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

Terror set in as you remembered the leader’s words. You began to hyperventilate.

“I- I can’t, they said they know where I live. And now that they’re dead the other members will surely come after-“

“Don’t you worry about that. How about this? I can come back with you and if anyone does come after you I’ll protect you, I promise. Sound good?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He climbed on his horse and extended out a hand, you were hesitant. You had been in your share of stagecoaches driven by horses, but never ridden on the back of one.

“It’s alright, she don’t spook easy.”

He pulled you up onto the saddle and you wrapped your arms around his waist. He gave a soft kick and the horse began a gentle trot.

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Athena. She’s a good girl.” He responded, ruffling her mane.

You rode in silence a bit before he spoke.

“Oh hey, I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart.” He said.

“Y/n. You?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arthur.”

He chuckled. “I could say the same to you.”

-

“It’s on your left.” You said.

He took in the sight of your estate, you still lived in the mansion you and Peter had shared.

“Damn, I knew you was fancy by that dress, but this is really somethin’.”

He hopped off his horse and took your hand, helping you down. He hitched his horse to a post, giving her a pat.

“Good job, girl.”

He turned to you, up until now you hadn’t yet managed to get a good look at him through all of your tears. Now that he was illuminated by the street lamps you noticed just how incredibly handsome he was. He noticed you staring.

“So, uh… you gonna let me in?”

“O- oh! Yes, of course.”

You opened the door and led him through the mansion, his boots echoing on the cold marble until you reached the bedroom.

“I’m assumin’ you wanna change outta that dress? I’ll give you some privacy, I’ll be right outside the door if you need me for anything.”

He closed the door behind you. You let your hair down and slipped off your dress, dropping it to the floor. You untied your corset and took off your bra and bloomers, as you always did on boiling, muggy summer nights such as this. You pulled your head through your nightgown, letting it fall over your figure.

“You can come back in now.” You said.

He opened the door and blushed immediately, trying very hard to not stare at your nipples that were ever so visible through the thin fabric.

“Wow, you, uh- you look different with your hair down. It’s nice.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

He tilted your chin up. “Alright, you try to get some sleep now, sweet girl.”

Something about this tough, ruthless gunslinger treating you with such softness, calling you “sweet girl”, was making you feel things. Things you hadn’t felt since you lost Peter.

You climbed into bed and Arthur took his place siting in a chair in the corner of the room, staring intently at the door like a guard dog, keeping a hand on his revolver. Every so often he gazed at you to make sure you were okay. He reminded you so much of Peter, the way he had a strong urge to protect you, to keep you safe.

As you laid in bed the tears returned and you started to tremble as the weight of what happened sank in. Arthur took notice immediately.

“Sweetheart, you’re shakin’ like a leaf. Is there anything I can do?”

“Come here… please.”

He got up, taking off his boots and sat next to you on the bed as you shook.

“God, you look terrified. What else can I-”

“Just hold me.”

The blush returned to his face.

“S- sure.”

He set his hat on the bedside table, revealing his hair, a beautiful shade of sandy brown. You turned your back to him and he laid down, pulling you against him. You both lay in silence until you noticed the feeling of something warm and hard pressing against you.

“Arthur, are you-”

He pulled his hips back.

“Oh goddammit, I’m sorry. I’m not meanin’ to, you’re just so beautiful and I’m a man. I can’t hel-“

You turned to face him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him deeply.

He struggled to find his words. “You- I- what?”

You ran your fingers through his hair.

“I really like you, Arthur Morgan.”

He sat himself upright.

“Sweetheart, you don’t want this- you don’t want me. You’re a lady of high society and I’m an outlaw. I’ve hurt people, killed even, and not just startin’ with the men who tried to take your life you tonight.”

You moved yourself to straddle his hips, putting a hand to his chest.

“I’m not afraid, I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

“You- you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. What I want from you is nothin’ like what you got goin’ on in your head.”

“So… you do want me.”

“Of course I do, you’re gorgeous, but I can’t. You have no idea the kind of things I’d to do to you.”

You leaned into his ear, whispering. “Try me. I think you’ll find we want the exact same things, Arthur.”

You reached a hand down and stroked his hard cock through his jeans. He couldn’t take it anymore, pulling you into a furious, passionate kiss. He ground himself against you, his hands beginning to pull up your nightgown.

“Can I?” He said between kisses.

You nodded.

“Good girl.” He purred.

You turned bright red.

“For the love of god, please never stop calling me that.”

“Oh you like that, huh? And here I thought you socialites was all vanilla.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Arthur.”

“Well, I’d love to get to know you better… in more than one way.”

He pulled the nightgown over you and dropped it down the side of the bed. He looked at you, eyes widening.

“Hold on, you wasn’t wearin’ anything under there this whole time?”

“I’m sorry, it just gets so hot and humid during this time of year.”

“Oh I ain’t complainin’ one bit, makes things far easier.”

He moved his hands to his jeans, starting to unbutton them. You put your hand on his.

“Wait, I want to see you too, all of you.”

He chuckled. “You want me to do a strip tease for you, sweetheart?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

He got off the bed, slid his suspenders down his shoulders and started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, seductively rolling his hips while maintaining eye contact. You couldn’t help but giggle seeing this rugged outlaw strip like an exotic dancer in front of you.

He smirked. “Enjoyin’ yourself there?”

“You put on quite the show, Mr. Morgan.”

He tossed his shirt aside. He was decently built with defined pecs, you couldn’t resist the urge to bite your lip. The longer you looked more apparent it was just how many scars dappled his torso, some of them appeared to be from bullet wounds.

He removed his belt and let it drop to the floor, unbuttoning his pants and slipping them off. You got a good look at the length that hung between his legs. You had been with a limited amount of men in your life and he was the biggest by a mile.

You got off the bed and sunk to your knees, moving to take him in your mouth. He laced his fingers in your hair, gently pulling you away from him.

“Ah, no, you don’t need to do that.”

“Why? Isn’t this what men always want?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it as much as the next man, but after what you’ve been through tonight I want this to be about you- pleasin’ you.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Arthur Morgan.”

He chuckled. “I have my moments.”

He picked you up and set you on the bed, getting on top of you. You spread your legs for him and he kissed his way down your body as he lowered his head between your thighs.

“You ever had anyone do this to you before? Eaten your pussy?”

“A handful of times, but I can’t say it’s ever done much for me.”

He looked up at you and flashed a cocky smile.

“Ain’t gonna be like that with me.”

He buried his face in your pussy, his hot breath and beard making you shiver. He took your clit in his mouth and rolled it on his tongue, you gasped, he definitely knew what he was talking about.

“Barely started and you’re already so wet for me, good girl.”

You seized his hair.

“Oh Arthur.” You moaned.

“Christ, I love hearin’ my name come outta your mouth.”

You never knew cunnilingus could feel this good, you were dripping into his mouth.

“Goddam, you taste so good.”

You felt yourself getting close. It was strange, the only times this had ever happened to you before were by your own hand late at night while you buried yourself in a steamy romance novel. To feel this way because of what someone else was doing to you was truly magnificent.

“A- Arthur, I’m gonna- oh god.“

“Gettin’ there ain’t you?” He teased.

“Mhm.” You nodded, unable to form actual words.

You thrusted your hips against his tongue, he responded by gripping them to hold them steady.

“Eeeeasy girl, I know you’re gettin’ close, but I won’t be able to get you there if you’re buckin’ like a wild horse.”

He sped up his rhythm, you shook, this time out of pure pleasure. You pulled at his hair and he gave a growl of approval.

“Good girl, cum for me.”

His praise did you in. You cocked your head back with a loud moan and came all over his mouth. He moved up to kiss you, you could taste yourself on him.

“Did that feel good, princess?”

“A thousand times better than when I do it to myself.”

“God, I’d kill to see that.”

He got on top of you, kissing your neck.

“You sure you’re ready for this? Have you ever had one this big before?”

You shook your head.

“Didn’t think so, your face wasn’t hidin’ it, the way you was practically droolin’ and your eyes as big as saucers when you saw it.”

“I’ve been told I have a terrible poker face.”

He laughed. “Then remind me to challenge you to a game of strip poker.”

He angled himself at your entrance.

“Promise me if it hurts too much you’ll tell me, okay?”

You nodded and he slowly entered, you drew a sharp breath and winced at the feeling of his girth. He looked at you with concern.

“You alright? You want me to stop?”

“No, don’t ever stop, please.”

“Such a brave girl.” He cooed.

With a groan he had managed to fully get himself down to the base of his shaft. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m gonna start movin’, try to focus on breathin’, it’ll help.”

He began to gently thrust himself into you. He reached down to grab one of your breasts, massaging it, his hand was rough and calloused.

“God, your tits are so soft.”

He was so tender with you and you could tell he was holding back, that he wanted to fuck you harder.

“You can go rougher, I don’t mind.”

“I- I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You kissed him.

“It’s okay, I can handle it.”

“What does a classy girl like you know about takin’ it rough?”

“I have a sizable library just down the hall with some literature of… interesting content.”

“The hell kinda books you readin’?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Just fuck me, Arthur. Hard.”

He smirked. “Such filthy talk comin’ from a lady, but if you say so, princess.”

Arthur kissed you aggressively and pinned your wrists down, increasing his speed dramatically. You cried out at the sensation, it hurt in the best way possible. He practically fucked you into the mattress, the bed shaking. It felt incredible, no one had ever fucked you this rough before. High class men acted as if any sort of passion made them brutish, save for Peter, but even he wouldn’t have dared to try anything near to what Arthur was doing.

“God, Arthur you feel so good.” You moaned.

“Mmf, I didn’t know girls of your caliber could want something like this. I figured it was all just lovemaking for you.”

“And who says lovemaking can’t be intense, lustful?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough, sweet girl.”

You rolled your hips back at him. It felt so good that your eyes fluttered closed, your head tilting back. He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head back down to face him.

“No, look at me, girl. I wanna see those eyes looking back at me.”

You met his gaze, staring into him. His eyes were surprisingly gorgeous, a deep oceanic blue.

“Good girl, so beautiful.”

He fucked you at a punishing speed, the sound of both his and your hips making contact was so loud that it practically echoed through the mansion.

“I- I wanna try something.” You said.

“Yeah? Go on, tell me.” He inquired between panting like a dog.

“Cowgirl.”

“Oh? Have you ever-“

“No, like I said I wanna try it.”

“Good girl, tryin’ new things.”

In one seamless motion he rolled himself onto his back while picking you up to sit on top of him, his cock still inside you.

“Hold on.” He said with a devilish look.

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his hat, placing it on your head.

“There, now you’re a proper cowgirl.”

You rocked your hips on him, fully sliding his cock in and out of you. He let out a groan.

“Jesus, that’s some nice ridin’, girl. For someone who’s never done this before you sure act like you have.”

“It’s- nngh- actually pretty intuitive.”

“I love when you use big words like that, such a smart girl.”

Now that you knew what felt good for him you moved yourself faster.

“Goddam, you keep doin’ that and I ain’t gonna last much longer.”

He grabbed your hips and thrusted into you brutally hard and fast. He was close.

“I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it, sweet girl?”

“I-in me… please, Arthur.”

“But what if you get preg-“

“I don’t care, I need to feel it in me so bad.” You begged.

“God, you’re so perfect. Where the hell you been all my life?”

He let you resume control, you relentlessly fucked yourself on him. His breathing became fast, his cock twitching wildly. He gave a loud moan as he came deep inside you, filling you with his cum. You didn’t stop, continuing with your breakneck rhythm, he winced and held your hips in place to stop you.

“Nhh, ah- stop, you can’t just keep goin’ like that after I already came.”

“Sorry I couldn’t resist, you feel too good.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, girl.” He chuckled.

He let out a deep exhale, his head sinking into the pillow. You took his hat off, setting it back on the nightstand. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

“You done good, real good, girl.” He sighed.

Arthur pulled out and laid down behind you, pulling you against him once again. It didn’t take long for sleep to embrace you. He stayed awake all night, refusing to leave you unprotected for even a second.

-

You awoke the next morning to Arthur kissing the back of your neck.

“Mornin’, princess.” He mumbled into you.

He laid with you for half an hour as the morning sun streamed through the window before he got up and started to get himself dressed.

“Now, as much as I hate to leave you, I got some important affairs to take care of. Think you’ll be alright on your own?”

You nodded and he kissed your forehead.

“Do you think- do you think we can see each other again?” You asked.

He smiled. “Well, I ain’t leavin’ town for a while. If that’s what you want, I’d be more than happy to look at that pretty face again. That and someone’s gonna have to keep you safe if anyone from that gang comes lookin’ for you.”

He took your hand and kissed it. For an outlaw he really could be a gentleman.

[beyondthebloodsugar]

My Fasting Experience: Low Blood Sugar Moments and How I Handled Them

Fasting can be a tricky journey. At times, it feels like walking a tightrope. It’s not just about skipping meals; it’s about tuning into what your body is saying. I started my fasting experience hoping for clarity and health. Little did I know, I'd face some surprising low blood sugar moments that shook me up! Here’s how I navigated through the bumps and found my footing.

Understanding the Ups and Downs of Fasting

Fasting often feels like an adventure. You think you’re on solid ground, but then—bam! Your blood sugar drops. Moments like these can feel alarming. Suddenly, you're weak, dizzy, or even lightheaded. It left me wondering: How did I get here?

When you fast, your body is running on empty fuel. It’s like trying to drive a car on fumes. Eventually, you hit a wall. This happened to me on several occasions. I realized that understanding my body’s signals was key to managing those low points.

Recognizing the Signs of Low Blood Sugar

Low blood sugar can sneak up on you. At first, it might just feel like a little fatigue. The next thing you know, you're staring at your feet, wishing the ground would steady itself. I started recognizing my signs: the shaky hands, the foggy brain, and that annoying little sweat on my forehead.

Each of these signs was a warning bell. It’s like my body was sending me a text message saying, "Hey, pay attention!" The trick was learning to listen and react before things got serious.

Quick Fixes to Raise Blood Sugar Levels

When low blood sugar hit, I needed solutions fast. I learned to keep a stash of easy snacks nearby. Something as simple as a piece of fruit or a bite of granola could make a world of difference. It was like pulling a parachute cord when free-falling. Instant relief!

I kept small packets of honey in my bag. They’re tasty, easy to carry, and bring up my sugar levels quickly. It’s amazing how a little sweetness can turn your day around!

Planning My Meals to Avoid Low Moments

Planning became crucial in my fasting routine. I started mapping out my meals, making sure I had enough nutrients to fuel my body. Eating wholesome meals before starting a fast was like filling my gas tank to full before a long trip. I wanted to avoid running out of fuel halfway.

I learned the importance of including proteins, fats, and fiber. These kept me feeling full longer and helped maintain steady blood sugar levels. It’s all about building a foundation that can handle the ups and downs.

Finding Balance Through Fasting

Fasting is all about balance. There were days when I hit those low points, but they were also days filled with learning. Each experience taught me more about my body and its signals.

It’s not just about the act of fasting itself; it’s about how to balance your body’s needs with your goals. I found that adjusting my approach and listening closely helped me handle those low blood sugar moments better.

Conclusion: Embracing the Journey

My fasting experience was filled with highs and lows. The low blood sugar moments were unexpected challenges, but also valuable lessons. I learned to listen, prepare, and react. Instead of fearing these moments, I embraced them as part of the journey.

So, if you’re thinking about fasting, keep in mind that it’s a personal adventure. You may face your own struggles, but with a little preparation and awareness, you'll find your way. Fasting isn’t just about food—it's about understanding your body and embracing the experience!

[stopaskinf]

Hongjoong WIP

Summary: Hongjoong is an average broke college student who starts sugarbabying as a way to make quick cash. Everything is going fine until he needs up with a mysterious sugar momma who he gets a little too attached to.

Genre: Yandere ish Hongjoong, lowkey toxic Hongjoong, Toxic reader lowkey, sugar baby Hongjoong x Sugar mama!black!reader, subish Hongjoong x femdom reader, toxic/darkish romance

CW: Smut, Oral(f receiving), blood, attempted murder, weird and unhealthy relationship dynamics, lying, cursing, cheating (it’s a misunderstanding) both of these bitches are crazy they deserve each other, drinking, dubcon, dom and sub dynamics

A/N: I’ve been meaning to work on this since forever, but imma just put some of it out there and see how the streets react.

Hongjoong dresses himself in a simple black button-up and slacks. He tells his roommate Seonghwa to check his phone in case he needs an emergency pick-up.

“I still don’t see why you’re so paranoid,” Wooyoung jokes from his spot on the floor of their dorm.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. Fucking loafer.

“I mean, you have this beautiful woman who's willing to pay for everything? You think she’ll bundy you? Leave your bones on the side of the road?” He quips as he sprawls himself out, nuzzling his head to on Seonghwa’s resting thigh on the couch like a lazy cat.

Hongjoong quickly adds to the banter, “Yes, I’m so scared I’ll get murdered and have to leave your annoying, freeloading self homeless.” Wooyoung snickers.

“Besides, you never know what can happen, it's good to be cautious.”

Seonghwa lazily nods.

M.X: Hey 😊

M.X: I’m outside whenever you’re ready!

Hongjoong mutters down to his phone, “Speak of the devil..”

“Alright, I’m heading out! Seonghwa, check your phone. Wooyoung, sit still.”

Wooyoung sticks his tongue at Hongjoong as the sharply dressed man exits the dorm.

Spotting the limo, he sees you outside, shivering from the slight cold the wind brings.

Somehow you also seem to spot him, even from the high placement of his dorm. You give him a wave and a smile.

At this point, you feel more than real.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Seeing How Your Body Works-Furina X Vamp! Reader

@melodic-haze , seeing as you liked the first one of this little anthology, here is the second part.

Next up, I am thinking March 7th

Warnings: Non-Sexual Nudity and intimacy

“Are you sure about this?” Furina asked in a whisper as she straddled your waist and put her hands on the side of your face, the bed moving slightly under the two of you.

“Of course I am milady. I’ve seen all of you, it's only fair you see all of me.” you muttered, your eyes looking directly into hers.

Furina leaned down, bracing her hands on your bare shoulders, and whispered “Thank you, my love.”

Then, she leaned back, and the both of you could see everything.

It was Furina’s idea.

To keep everything “Equal” as she said.

You were the only one who needed to be exposed as she examined you.

But she insisted.

And so, here the both of you were.

Not a single piece of clothing on either of you.

Furina, holding herself upright on your midsection, legs spread and knees on both sides of your torso as her breasts slowly rose and fell in tandem with her breath and she looked you in your eyes with a deep trust and fondness.

Slowly, she dragged her hands up your chest and to your throat before placing her fingers on the underside of your jaw.

Wordlessly, you opened your mouth and Furina could feel the muscles under her fingers tense as your fangs came into view, glistening in the pale light of the moon and the stars.

Gently, Furina removed her hands and placed them on the side of your face once more slowly bringing them down your jaw to where her index finger could easily into your mouth to feel the fang.

It felt like any other tooth, but then she ran her finger up the edge and then, she put the slightest amount of pressure onto the tooth, causing it to slice through her perfect skin with ease.

Your entire body twitched in response and your pupils narrowed as your irises began to glow.

Furina was undeterred.

She trusted you completely.

She knew that, if you so wished, you could split her open before she could do a single thing at this distance.

Her death would be a foregone conclusion.

Unbothered by this thought, she continued to admire your body.

She could already feel her finger going numb and a rather pleasurable tingling begin to radiate from the wound.

“A vampire’s Toxin numbs the wound and causes the nerves to activate, sending signals to the brain that cause it to release high amounts of endorphins.” Furina recited the explanation you gave her before all of this began.

You nodded your head slowly, careful not to move the placement of her bleeding finger which was still in your mouth, the sweet taste of her blood making it hell to fight the urge to wrap your tongue around the wound and taste what little bit of her you could.

Just the few drops that had slid down your throat made you feel like you had downed twenty cups of tea filled with sugar, electricity was running through your veins but in the same moment, you could feel the want to think slowly fade away and a sense of calm overtake you, your limbs going limp upon the bed.

Are you sure Furina isn’t the one with the semi-paralytic toxin in her blood?

If she did, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Especially not when you were shaken out of your stupor by her removing her now longer bleeding finger from your tongue that you had wrapped around the wound without thinking.

Embarrassment turned your face red as you looked to the side.

“If just a few drops of me could do that to you, I could only wonder what would happen if you decided to go straight for the source!” Furina said rather pridefully as she forced you to look her in the eye by gently turning your head towards her, a grin on her face and a faint blush on her face.

Then, Furina removed her hand from your chin and placed both of hers on your shoulders as she slowly lowered her body, laying flat against you with her ear on your chest, directly over your heart.

Like any living being, your heart did beat.

However, it was slow.

Much slower than it should be.

For every three beats of her heart, your’s beats once.

And that is where Furina laid there, listening to your heartbeat, listening to your breath.

Her skin felt like it was burning you, but it was not an unpleasant burn.

Your cold skin was making her want to do nothing but close her eyes and let the cold devour her.

She was more than willing to let it.

Purely because she knew she could find you inside of it.

And that is how the two of you spent the night.

By the time morning came, neither of you could tell where Furina began and you ended.

For the entire night, there was nothing beyond the space the two of you occupied.

No requirements, no laws, nothing.

There was just you, and her.

Holding each other close, bare skin on bare skin, basking in the wondrous feeling you both felt from the other.

[small-sinclair]

Dada

Bo Sinclair x mother fem!reader

@zaras-really-dreamless... you wanted some "Take me Instead" content, yeah? Well, it's not the next two parts, but I hope it quiches a thirst :3 . A dabble based off my Bo x preg!reader au. I promise I'll make a master list for this au and give it a name I swear--

"Can you say 'Bo'?" You asked in your mother voice, a smile on your face. "Come on, Jazzy, say 'Bo'!"

"Shouldn't encorage to hav' 'er say my name, darlin'," Bo said glancing over his shoulder. "Have 'er say 'mama' or somethin' like that." He started working on the car you and Todd came. "When did ya last get 'is thin' an oil change?"

You shrugged as you bounced Jasmine on your hip, smiling at her happily. "Todd always took care of that." You heard an audible sigh and the hood slamming. "Is it that bad, Bo?"

"Well, ain't gonna lie, darlin', but your car," he thumbed behind him and threw his rag, "is done. Never drive ‘at heep o’ shit again."

You lifted a brow before looking at Jasmine. "Well... that sucks, huh, Jazzy? There goes out escape plan," you joked. "Trapped here forever."

Bo shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I'll have Lester bring the trailer down an' scrap it. Make more money than fixin' it." He placed a hand on his hip and fixed his hat. "Sorry, Mama, but it ain't drivin' no more." His eyes flickered down at Jasmine and watched her bright eyes looking back at him. "She seems lost."

"Jasmine’s just looking around, Bo," you answered, smiling. "She was always a wanderer just like my mother." You gave her an Eskimo kiss and smiled at her giggle. To Bo, it melted his heart. "She's just trying to figure the world out."

He takes a deep breath in and motioned you to follow him out. "Le'me close up an' we c'n get home-"

"Hello?" Your head snapped to the front door and saw young man walk in with two of his friends. "Anyone here?"

Bo gave you a look then led the way to the front of the shop. He puts on a fake smile and says, "Yeah, jus' caught me." He sounded cheerful when he said, "Was gonna close up soon."

"Would it trouble you to replace our spark plugs?" The man asked. "Me and my buddies have the slightest on what to do an--" his face was caught off when his green eyes landed on you. He straightens up and nods his head. "Ma'am," he said.

"Gentlemen," you replied. You stood between him and Bo before turning to look at Bo, saying, "I'll head up to the house and start dinner."

"I won't be long, sugar," Bo said, leaning down to kiss your head. "Promise."

They boys by the door parted and let you pass throw.

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

Jasmine played on the floor with little horse stuffies while you cooked dinner. Bo dropped hints of cooking pot roast and green beans with potatoes. Besides, he’s been working hard in the shop the past couple of nights along with making sure you and Jasmine are fitting in well.

Ever since you started living freely with the Sinclair Brothers, you were left with the house keeping and cooking job. Thought it's not the best picture of how you wanted to spend your life, but you had the freedom to move around within the house and around the dead town. Though you were watched with careful eyes, the fear you had with them would fade over time. Yes, the murdering and blood shed scares you, but tried their best to keep that away from you and from Jasmine.

Living with the brothers felt like you were living in a strange home. Lester brought you along to the store for baby shopping, and he always stopped after the trip to get your drink order at Starbucks. Vincent was a natural at rocking Jasmine to sleep when you were busy, and he enjoyed feeding her when you were tired or needed to rest. Bo found himself looking over you and her as time went on, and you would wake up to him some times at night with him looking into the crib, his hand holding Jasmine's fingers. When you saw the high chairs and baby photos, you learned why they made sure to keep Jasmine happy, to keep her away from them, to keep loving on her until their hearts give out.

If you were honest with yourself, you wanted to burn Bo’s high chair.

When you asked Lester why it’s there, he shakes his head. “Bo doesn’t know how to heal,” he answered as he nodded to his brother working in the shop. “This is the only way he can.”

Even if he doesn't show it, you knew Bo was in love with Jasmine. Besides seeing him with her at night, you would catch some glances of him holding her on his hip while he shows her the inside of a car, telling her all about the engine of a '68 Dodge. He would call her little star, sunshine, lady bug, sweetheart-- you kept seeing the shine in his eyes when he was around her. Of course, things weren't always calm and sunshine, but he never yelled at her like Todd did. Never once has he called her dumb or stupid.

Maybe you agreeing to stay in this town was good for the three of you.

Humming to the radio by the stove, you started cooking the potatoes when he came home. You glanced over your shoulder to greet him but your face fell once you saw him limping in with his hand holding his thigh.

“What happened?” You asked as you met him in the hall, taking a towel and the first-aid. After being here for two months, you learned that it's best to keep the first-aid within reach.

“Got stabbed,” Bo hissed, breathing through his teeth. “One of ‘em got brave and headed towards the house, too.” He then looks at Jasmine, who still played with her toys. “He was gunnin’ fer ‘at lil’ one.”

“How do you know?”

He bit the corner of his lips. “Just knew. Didn’t lik’ the way he was lookin’ at ya an’ ‘er.” His drawl was heavier than normal. “Should’ve said nothin’, girl, an’ snuck out in the tunnels.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bo grumbles to himself as he lets you tend to his leg. His eyes linger from you towards Jasmine. For a moment, the anger burning in his irises dimmed when Jasmine showed off her stuffed pink horse to him before playing again. Once her gaze was gone, his anger sparked again.

"Never do 'at again, woman," he warned, as he leaned back in the chair. "Men are dangerous 'round children."

"Are you dangerous?" He didn't mean to ask him, but as soon as those words left, he glared at you. "Sorry."

"I'll let it pass just once," he murmurs, "but don' say 'at shit again."

Bo leans back and closes his eyes, taping his fingers on the arm rest. As he felt the pain start to fade, his eyes linger over Jasmine as she plays with her horse. His relaxed his shoulders against the wood and watched her little horse wiggle in the air as of it was flying, grinning slightly at her movements.

"Dinner's almost ready," you say as you came back with water and two pain killers. "Just cooking the potatoes now."

"Yeah?" He asked, lifting a brow. He takes the pills and gulps down the water. "That's awful kind 'o ya."

As you two started talking about dinner, Jasmine sat and watched the both of you with curious eyes. She uses the couch to help her stand, dropping her horse, and pulled herself up. Once she was standing up, she takes shaky steps forward, her mind competly forgettign the horse under her feet. Tripping, she falls down, looks around, and opens her mouth, crying loudly.

Bo jolted as he heard her started to cry. He watched you scoop up your child and kisses her head as you tried to calm her. Her little hands reached out towards Bo, bright eyes burning through tears as she cried out, "Dada!"

It's like time froze and the world stopped spinning. Bo's eyes grew wide as he looked at you and back at Jasmine. "What... what did she just--"

"Dada!” Her little hands reached for him, tearfully crying out, “Bo!”

Just like that, Bo's heart shattered in two million pieces. Her little hands reached for him still as she wiggling in your grasp. With his hands still bloodied, Bo opened his arms and nodded at you, reassuring that it's okay for you to leave him, but you can't... not while he's covered in someone else's blood.

Though the pain was still there, Bo moved quickly from the den to the kitchen. He scrubbed and washed up as best as he could, took off his work uniform shirt and tossed it aside, and dried off as well as he could. He heard the basement door opening and Vincent entering from downstairs.

Before Bo could fill him in, Jasmine cried out, "Bo! Dada!"

Vincent felt his stomach drop as he looked at you and Jasmine. His lone eye looks back at Bo and pointed, eye wide in shock, signing, 'Did she just say your name? Or am I really dehydrated?'

"Ya heard right," Bo breathed. He limps away from Vincent and headed back into the living room. He held out his hands, motioning that he was reader, and you gave her to Bo.

This was his first time holding her since the day he got you away from Todd. Truly holding her close, not like when he has her on his hip while working on a car.

As soon as you place her in his arms, something clicked in his brain. The way she looked at her with tearful eyes and her hands reached for him to hug, Bo’s world rocked. He heldJasmine so close and protectively as he rocked back and forth, hushing her gently. Feeling her again in his arms felt almost right, but he’s not her dad. He’ll be a good enough father, he knows, but…

“You’re okay, star shine,” he whispered as he felt her calming. “Ya just bummed yer knee. Nothin’ to cry about.” He walked away from you as he paced in the other room with the pool table. He nodded at you to take care of the food while he takes care of Jasmine. “Yer okay. You’ll be alright.”

“Dada,” she whines as her little hands gripped his shirt. “Bo.”

How fast can a heart shatter and build up again? Is there a study out there that could answer Bo’s question?

He rested her head against his heart as he took shaky breaths. He’s not ready. He’ll never be ready. “Shh, star shine,” he whispers. “Rest ‘at lil’ head. I’m here. Bo’ll always be here.”

From the kitchen, Vincent started the potatoes and had you watch from the doorway. Were you in love with him, or did you just see him as a father figure? As much as you tried an answer, you couldn’t make since of it yet. Todd was her dad, but any boy can be a dad. Bo was a man; he was a better father than Todd. You just can’t tell him yet.

So, you watched as Bo swayed back and forth with Jasmine in his arms, murmuring a song only for her to hear. Slowly, he leaned against the pool table. His eyes was filled with so much warmth and carefulness when he looked down at Jasmine. You had to admit he knew what he was doing, and Jasmine fell asleep right away in his arms. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. The walls that he built and the lies he believed fell so fast to let her in.

Dada. Bo.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a sigh escaped. He’ll kill a thousand men just to keep Jasmine safe, to keep you happy and well, to keep what lever type of… family? Relationship? What is the best word to say? But he looked down at Jasmine as if she was his own, and a grin formed. Bo will fight off every and any monster that dare comes near his home.

***********

Later that night, you woke to the sound of your bedroom door opening and feet shuffling across the floor. Turning, you found Bo in sleeping pants, shirtless, and holding Jasmine in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder as he swayed slightly back and forth with his eyes closed. You heard him hum a lullaby low and soft just for her. When his eyes parted, he made eyes contact with you, smiled, and laid her back down ever so slowly and gently.

Bo turned his heels and tucked you back in. “Rest, Mama,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow.” Then Bo turned and left the room, closing the door silently.

What a beautiful mess that’s unraveling right in front of you.