#i really thought i would be over this phase by now

[improbable-outset]

I recently became an auntie/uncle! (yay!) My little nibling was overdue by a week and the funny thing is, as a way to induce labor, sib and their lovely s/o tried the whole sexy times to get baby moving. And it worked! So how about Miguel and their s/o in that same scenario and Miguel convinces his loving wife to try it out seeing as their kid is a few days overdue? Bonus if it works! That man def be looking at his heavily pregnant wife with hungry eyes lol!

Pregnant!Reader smut 😍😍 yes please! (Also congrats on your new addition to the family anon, and sorry this took so long)

📄 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐲

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Wife!Reader, gross talks of placenta lmao, SMUT, Pregnancy sex, spooning position, virginal fingering, unprotected sex, brief mentions of the labour phase, breastfeeding and lots and lots of fluff.

𝐀/𝐍: I would’ve been lost if it wasn’t for @lazyjellyfish300 (Thank you bestie!!)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It has been a week past your baby girl’s due date, and Miguel thinks it’s the perfect time to explore some natural methods to induce labour.

Miguel watched you anxiously as you tried to walk hand in hand down the street with him. One of your hands rested on your baby bump, while the other clung to his.

It was a quiet night as you both made your way back home, but even in an absence of a crowd, Miguel still felt an extra precaution over you.

He leaned over and nuzzled his face against your shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah…I’m good,” you replied, struggling to sound convincing. Miguel knew you were concealing your stiffness. With the baby fully developed, you were ready to give birth at any given moment.

It had been a week past your due date, and you hadn’t felt any contractions. Miguel had adviced you to stay home to avoid any potential issues or emergencies while out.

But you were growing tired of being indoors all day and, after pleading with him, had finally secured a dinner date at one of your go-to restaurants.

The city was more beautiful at night, with the spectacle of lights and holograms illuminating the cityscape. Fortunately, it was within walking distance from your house, so you didn’t have to travel far.

Still, you found it difficult to manoeuvre around, struggling with your new, cumbersome, body. His eyes darted between you and the path ahead.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice showing his skepticism as he noticed the slight tremor in your steps.

“Mhmm,” you were starting to sound breathless now.

He noticed how you were stuggling to keep up with his pace, even while holding hands. He slowed down to match your steps.

“You’re having trouble again,” Miguel said with a hint of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me to slow down earlier?”

You huffed. “I’m just a little disappointed that I couldn’t have the sushi,”

Miguel gave a small smile. He knew how much you had been craving the sushi from the restaurant and felt bad that you couldn’t have it.

He tried to sooth your disappointment. “Lo sé, amor,” he said. “But we have to think about the baby. Your health comes first,”

He gently pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around you and supporting your back as you continued to walk. “I know it’s hard, but it won’t be long now. Just a few more weeks and you’ll be able to eat all the sushi you want,”

“Yeah…this baby really doesn’t want to come out,” you sighed, glancing down at the bump. Miguel’s eyes followed, imagining your daughter inside.

He can already sense that she would inherit his stubbornness if she didn’t want to leave the comfort of the womb for the outside world— he smiled at the thought.

“I know. But she’ll come out when she’s ready. And she’ll be worth the wait, I promise,” Miguel felt the tension from your shoulders ease up at the thought. Thinking about holding your baby for the first time still felt surreal, even while you were fully developed.

“You know, I was kinda hoping I would start contracting back in the restaurant,” you mused.

“You’re that eager for the baby to come out, huh?”

“Uh huh, I think it’d be a pretty memorable experience,”

“It definitely will be memorable,” he imagined what it would be like if you suddenly writhe in pain the moment you get into labour while dining together. It didn’t seem like a pleasant scenario, however. “But I don’t think the other patrons would appreciate a surprise birth in the middle of dinner,”

“Right, of course,” you said. “But the food was still good though,”

“Yeah, it was.” He continued to walk by your side. “But I bet that sushi would’ve been tastier,” he added with a tease.

You rolled your eyes and pouted. “Urgh, don’t remind me,”

“Heh, I’m sorry amor,” he chuckled, his instinct quickly went on high alert again, focusing on your well-being.

His fingers traced circles on your back, a comforting reminder of his presence and support. He wanted to make sure he was there for you.

“I’ve heard women eat their own placenta,” you commented casually, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. He didn’t understand why you would bring it up, especially after a nice dinner. Knowing how easily queasy you could get, especially during your pregnancy, he was taken aback by your comment.

“Okay, that is gross,” he responded “I don’t want to think about eating your own placenta. Besides, there is no way that’s healthy, right?”

He knew you’d never entertain such an idea , especially if it’s people doing things online. He shook his head, trying to banish the unpleasant image.

“I don’t know, you’re the scientist here,” you said with a shrug

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He loved it when you would always remind him of his science background, something that he took pride in.

“Well, from a science perspective, I can tell you there’s no real evidence that eating your own placenta has any benefits.” He glanced at you before looking forward again. “I can imagine it being little too gritty and chewy like granola,”

“Eww I don’t think I can have granola the same now…” You scrunch your own face in disgust, mirroring Miguel's earlier reaction.

“Oh come on, mi vida. Don’t let the idea of eating a placenta ruin granola for you. There are plenty of other healthy food options like…uhm kale?”

“Kale?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his lips, clearly enjoying prodding you. “Yeah you know, the leafy stuff that tastes like grass.”

“Grass is appetising to you?”

He was clearly just milking it now out of spite and further teasing the conversation. “You don’t like the taste of grass? It boosts your immune system and gives you a healthy gut biome. You should definitely try it sometime,”

“Oh ok, cow.”

“Cow? Is that what you're gonna call me from now on?”

“Mooooo,” you mimicked, leaning into the joke.

“Okay okay I get it. I guess I’m a cow who likes eating grass and kale. You win this one, amor,” Miguel conceded.

Though he felt a swell of admiration towards you at that moment. Despite the discomfort you must’ve been feeling right now, you still managed to bring light into the situation.

You were definitely ready to be a mother and he couldn’t wait to see the more maternal nature from you.

Though in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if you’re doing it to distract yourself or, worse, distract him from your unease.

He really hoped it was just the former; at least that would be more reasonable. He knew how stubborn you could be when it came to your well-being, and now wasn’t the best time for that, given your vulnerable state.

Memories of the last time you pushed yourself too hard, refusing to talk to him about your stress until you reached burnout, were still fresh in his mind.

“Next thing you know, you’re gonna say you smoke grass too,” And there was more of that smartass mouth of yours.

He set the earlier concerns aside and focused on coming up with a response to match your sarcasm. “Well I wouldn’t rule it out, maybe I’ll try some kale-wrapped placenta. Who knows?”

“Eww okay stop,” you wrinkled your nose in mock horror.

“Heh, you started it with the placenta talk, amor.”

“Yes, and you somehow made it worse,” you resorted, shaking your head. You both moved on from the placenta talk, shifting to a more pleasant topic the rest of the way home.

~

Miguel felt a wave of relief wash over him as he stepped foot into the house. The familiar surroundings offered a sense of security that eased his mind; knowing you were safe within these walls and away from any disturbance or danger from outside.

He watched as you padded over to the living room, your gait slowed by the weight of your baby bump. You sank onto the couch with a sigh. Despite the safety of indoors, Miguel’s protective instincts kept him alert with his eyes following your every move.

Ever since your due date had passed, Miguel had been anticipating the moment you would feel your first contraction.

Your hospital bag had been so packed for days, sitting in the corner of the room like a silent sentinel. It was filled with extra clothes, thick pads and everything else you might need. He was determined to be prepared for any eventuality.

But it seemed as though time stretched to a crawl as the days dragged on past your due date. Despite his effort to remain patient, he couldn’t help but feel a little restless yet excited for the baby’s arrival.

He settled onto the couch beside you and held the baby bump, feeling the gentle movements of your daughter inside. He wondered how you were feeling physically, sensing that must be feeling a mix of discomfort and anticipation.

Part of him wished for the labour to start soon, not just to end your pain but to finally see you hold your baby for the first time. He knew that moment would be etched in his memory forever.

He wanted nothing more than to come back into the apartment finally being a family of three. His eyes fell on you again; you looked worn out but you still looked stunning.

He had heard about the pregnancy glow but never truly believed it until he saw you. Your beauty seemed to shine even brighter through the fatigue and the physical toll of motherhood.

He felt you shift slightly, seeking a more comfortable position. “How are you feeling, amor? Do you need anything?” He asked softly.

You shook your head, offering a tired smile. “No, I’m okay. Just a little achy,”

“I can imagine…” he replied.

No, I don’t think I could even remotely imagine.

He could sense your aches, even if you were trying to downplay it. “How about we call it a night and get ready for bed? I can bring you some tea to help you relax,”

“That would be nice, actually. Thank you.” You said. Miguel stood to his feet and extended his hand to you. Once you grabbed it, he gently helped you to get to your feet too.

You headed over to the bedroom, the house hushed to a comfortable silence, while Miguel moved to the kitchen to prepare a cup of chamomile tea.

As the water heated on the stove, his mind drifted to the idea of different ways to induce labour. He had heard about more natural methods that could help get the baby moving.

But he was unsure how you would feel about the subject. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable and get you to do something that you were not too sure with.

Natural inducing was a delicate topic and he didn’t know how he was going to bring it up. Yet, with the increasing tension you must’ve been experiencing, he felt an urgency to find a solution. The sooner the better, right?

Once the tea was prepared he headed to the bedroom too and found you already nestled under the covers. He handed you the cup and settled beside you on the bed. “Here you go, sip it slowly.”

“Thank you, Miguel.” you said, taking the cup with a grateful smile.

Miguel took a moment to appreciate the sight of you. In your cozy pajamas, with your baby bump showing and your expression relaxed, you looked more radiant than ever.

He shook off his awe and focused on the topic that had been on his mind. The timing felt right but he decided to wait until you finished your tea before he spoke.

Once you’ve drained the cup, he took a deep breath. “I was thinking…I know we’re both anxious about when the baby will come. I think I might know something that could help induce labour.”

You placed the cup on the nightstand before turning to him. “You do?”

He leaned a little closer so he could study your face. “Yeah, it involves some…physical activities,”

Immediately you twisted your face, recalling a past memory. “Oh, please don’t make me use that exercise ball again,”

“No, not the exercise ball,” he chuckled before he retained his gentle tone.“There are some excerises, but we don’t need to do that now. I was thinking of something more intimate.”

Your eyebrows arched in understanding.“I’ve heard of that too, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”

Relief and excitement swirled in Miguel’s heart at your openness. Though he didn’t want to put everything on you now. “Only if you’re comfortable. I know you're tired right now so we don’t need to do it tonight,”

You chewed on your lower lip, suppressing your grin from growing wide.“Oh well, I might have a little spare energy for this.”

“Oh? Too impatient for the baby to come out?”

“That and…you’re looking pretty irresistible right now,” he saw a flicker of something familiar in your eyes as you said that and it was too tempting not to give him.

He leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a deep kiss. He felt you respond back eagerly, your lips parted slightly as his tongue traced the contours of your mouth, silently asking for entry.

You opened up to him and he took that opportunity to map out your tongue to taste more of you. After pulling his lips away, he soaked in the sight of you and how flushed your lips were right now.

His voice dropped to a more soothing tone as he spoke. “Let me do the work, okay? You just lay back for me.”

He carefully stripped off your pants, with your undies remaining, before he removed his own. He gently guided you to lie on your side before he climbed onto the bed behind you. His chest was pressed against your back now and he wrapped an arm around you and caressed your bump.

“Comfortable?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, are you?”

“Very.” he pressed up closer to you, molding his body against yours.

One of his hands reached lower to trace the edge of your undies between your thighs. He felt your twitch slightly at the touch and he couldn’t help the grin against your neck.

He reached lower until he felt the damp patch of the fabric and gently rubbed in a circular motion over your clothed folds and the clit.

“Mig—” you gasped, writhing under his touch. You were more sensitive now with your hormones flaring.

He groaned softly at the sound of you saying his name like that, so needy and desperate for him. “You’re so wet for me, amor.” He murmured.

You could only moan lowly in response as he dug his fingers through the panties to feel more of your wetness. Your panties cling to your core from your wetness as he lowered the fabric to expose the delicate area.

The undies were only pulled down up to your upper thighs but it was enough room for him to delve his fingers into your cunt, drawing in and out at a shallow pace.

You were so responsive and your pregnant bump made you look even more enticing right now. He added a second finger, increasing his pace ever so slightly while using the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

He heard you gasp, loving how easily he could make you moan and forget about everything other than him. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he moaned against your ear.

You flushed again this chest, squirming until you rubbed against his groin and over his hard on. His breath caught against his throat, suddenly feeling his urges getting stronger. He wanted to be buried deep inside you right now but he didn’t want to rush things just yet.

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” his voice was strained as he breathed.

“Miguel, please—” you whined, rubbing your thigh desperately for some friction against the bundle of nerves.

Miguel’s control was hanging by a thread by now as he heard your plea. He slowly withdrew his fingers from you and shifted his body. He quickly lapped up your wetness from his digits before he started grinding his hard on against the rear.

His hands slip up your stomach again. He was infatuated by your bump and he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” He breathed against your ear. He was aware of how more sensitive you were now and he wanted to make sure he prepped.

“Yes…please, I need you Miguel.” You begged further. The desperation in your voice pushed him to his breaking point.

He pulled away momentarily to lower his boxers and freed his aching cock. He stroked it a few times before he located your core between your thighs.

Once he found the jackpot, he slowly pushed himself inside. Immediately he was overwhelmed by you and your walls squeezing around him. You clenched onto the bed sheets beside you as he pushed further.

Once he had bottomed out, he felt his eagerness heighten and there was a hopefulness that this might be the chance to finally bring about the beginning of your labour, leading to the birth of your baby.

But at the same time, he couldn’t ignore the lingering nervousness on what’s to come and the significant changes that would happen.

But for tonight, he didn’t allow himself to focus on that— instead he wanted to bring you the bliss that you needed now before those hours of labour.

He let out a low groan into your neck before he started to drag himself out and slipped back in again, all while watching your face with a close eye.

He wanted to be able to pick up on your reaction through your micro facial expressions, even if he did only have a vantage view of your face from his position. Your mouth was parted open with the sound of your whine slipping from your lips.

His pace started off slow and steady so you both could get in the swing of things— and so he could adjust to the position. He had never made love to you like this so this was all new to him, especially with your new body.

He felt you tighten around him as he thrusted in and out of you, milking more moans and sweet sounds out of you. He kept his hands around your stomach, feeling the activity of the baby inside as he slowly increased his pace.

Your moans were becoming more frantic and high pitched from the mounted pleasure and how sensitive you were now. He could sense the familiar trance of your climax from the sounds you were making and how breathingless you were right now.

He moved his hand from your stomach to reach for your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. His lips remained near your ear and he kept his voice hushed. “That’s it, amor. Let yourself go.”

He heard you cry out his name in pure ecstasy as you reached your peak, sending a shiver down his spine. He continued to move inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. His thrusts became more sporadic and jerky now as he felt his own peak crawl up to him.

With one finally thrust, he reached his own orgasm, coming hard inside of you and filling you with his release. He moaned your name, like it was painted on his tongue, as his body shuddered against yours.

He slowly pulled out from you and felt the withdrawal. Your bodies were still clung onto each other as both of you came down from your high. Miguel shuffled away to give you some room to breathe, with the sweat cooling his skin.

You turned your body over so you were facing him again before you wrapped yourself around him. “Do you think it worked?” You asked.

Miguel pulled you as close as you bump will allow. “Well, I don’t know for certain, but it was definitely worth a try. And even if it doesn't, we can keep trying.”

The thought did excite him, but he really hoped that it would work the first time. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Miguel’s hand continued to trace gentle patterns on your skin. A sense of satisfaction washed over him, and it blended seamlessly with the lingering pleasure of your intimacy.

“You know, after everything I’ve lost, I never thought I’d ever find happiness. I never thought I’d ever find someone who makes me feel alive again, someone to start a family with.” He sighed, tracing his fingers over the back of your neck affectionately. “Yet…here I am, married to the most incredible woman,”

“Well, I never thought I’d be married to Spiderman,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

Of course you would bring that up.

“Oh God, please don’t refer to me as that, not while I’m off the clock anyways,” he said, though internally your words felt like a warm embrace, filling him with a sense of fulfillment. “I’m not some special entity or idol, just a man who loves his wife,” he added.

“And a man who keeps the Multiverse intact,” you reminded him. He wasn’t always fond of his role as the leader of the Society, but the way you said it made it sound almost noble.

“Urgh, don’t remind me, you make it sound like I’m some sort of superhero. Can’t you just call me your husband for tonight,” there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice that he couldn’t hide, even if he was joking.

You looked up at him, your expression softened with affection, “You are, and you’re my hero too,”

Miguel felt his heart quicken seeing the way you looked at him. It wasn’t every day that he received the recognition that he deserved; but even when he did receive some praises here and there, it would never give the deep sense of gratification that he felt when hearing it from you.

You always knew how to make him feel not only noticed but appreciated too. It was almost surreal having someone like you to wake up to everyday. “You’re really giving me a big head you know that, but it’s nice to hear you say it,”

“Yeah…and you’ll be this little one’s hero too,” your gaze fell to your bump.

Miguel couldn’t stop himself from gently caressing your stomach, feeling the kicks from your daughter.

Any moment now.

Miguel kissed your forehead. “Let’s get some rest, tomorrow is another big day,” You were both lulled to sleep with your synced heartbeats.

~

The following morning, Miguel felt you gently shaking him awake. Blinking against the morning light, he focused on your excited expression. He was still defrosting from his slumber so he didn’t pick up on what you said until he heard the word contraction.

Immediately he felt his heart rate spike and he bolted upright. “Are you sure? When did you feel it?”

You beamed at him. “Just a few minutes ago. I tried to wake you but you were in a deep sleep. Should we get ready to go to the hospital?”

Miguel didn’t need to be asked twice before he was out of bed and freshening up in the bathroom. The entire morning, he was on high alert, making sure everything was in place, carrying the hospital bag to the car and making sure you were feeling okay, reminding you to focus on your breathing.

As you both stepped out of the front door, he halted as his mind started racing. He looked back at the house and realised the next time he walked through these doors and back inside, you would be a family of three.

This was something you’ve both been dreaming for a long time and having to experience it in real time still didn’t sink in yet. He stepped further out the house and locked the doors before he climbed into the car, taking his place behind the wheel.

Several hours of ice chips later, the first cry of your baby girl tore through the room. At that moment, time seemed to stand still. Everything and everyone else faded into the background and all Miguel could focus on was you and the baby.

When it was his turn to hold her, Miguel couldn’t form a single word until he saw her big eyes open for the first time, looking up at him. She probably recognised his voice as he offered soft words of comfort.

“Mi pequeña princesa,”

He felt a fierce sense of protectiveness over the baby. He wanted to hold her close, to keep her safe, but he was also aware of her fragility. So he found a careful balance, making sure she felt his warmth in his arms.

When it was time for your baby’s first feeding, Miguel watched you as you nursed your daughter for the first time. The nurse helped with the latching and the positioning so you would be more comfortable.

You brought the baby closer to your body, aligning her head with your nipple. You got the hang of it pretty quickly and soon, she got a good latch, with her tiny lips flared out.

Miguel watched in awe as she started to suck and draw out the milk. “She’s feeding, amor. You’re a natural at this,”

Once the baby’s feeding was done, you slowly guided her off your nipple and held her against your chest.

“Miguel, I did it!” You exclaimed, the excitement shining in your eyes.

“¡Por supuesto que lo hiciste! You did an amazing job.” He pulled you close and kissed the crown of your head.

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.” You confessed.

“That's not true. You're the one who gave birth to our little girl, and you're the one who is nursing her, giving her the best possible start in life. You're the strong, amazing, beautiful mother of our child. I'm just here to support you every step of the way.” Miguel quickly wiped the mist in his eyes, overcome with emotion.

“True, but I would be a mess without you,”

“And I would be lost without you. You may be the one bringing our baby into the world and feeding her, but I’m right here besides you,” he said, voice steady and reassuring. “I’ll do everything I can to make this journey easy for you,”

And he sealed his promise with a kiss on your forehead.

I shit you not, there are women out there who actually talk ab eating their own placenta on TikTok (TW if you get easily squeamish) ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @mybvalentine @prettygirleli @enneadec @aisajustwannaread

@babeyling @monarchberrysblog @saintdiior

[theroguequeen]

some people are saying that daemon loved younger rhaenyra more and that's why it's her younger version he sees in harrenhal and even so it's obvious younger rhaenyra has a special place in his heart that but does not mean he loves older rhaenyra less. I think what's hard for him is that younger rhaenyra adored and idolized him and older rhaenyra still loves him so deeply but is no longer worshipping every step he takes especially in the situation they are in now. She still desires him, she still wants him but as she said herself and made clear before she can no longer wait for him even if it means that he is not at her side. It hurts her and she is still waiting for him to return but she is tired of chasing him just for him to slip through her fingers again. And deep down daemon always knew that he put her through a lot. Younger rhaenyra was always craving his presence and everytime she thought that maybe this time he would stay he was gone all over again. Younger rhaenyra was going absolutely crazy about him and idolizing him made it easier for her to deal with him being gone while she was already aware that the way he treated her was not okay. Now it's not enough to bring her gifts and to take her on a adventure, she needs to feel secure. And relationship go to different phases that does not mean you love someone less but in a different way, more solid. I think they both still share those moments of being high by each other's touch and feeling the rush, the desire is still there but right now it's not the time for it (even so they deserve a kiss and make up sex) and can we please all remember how this man was touching her face and looking at her in the fight scene like did that man look like he was not craving her touch?? He is there in harrenhal and out of his mind because he simply can not deal with what she said. This man fucking dies for her. Like he is still so crazy in love with her and I think if we got more scenes of them being married and happy at dragonstone maybe more people would realize that. And I really hope after this whole visiting alicent we get to see rhaenyra being allowed to feel her rage.

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 11: Private Party

WC: 6366 | R: Explicit | CH: 11/12 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10

*EDDIE*

“Huh,” Eddie huffed, flopping down onto Chrissy’s neatly made bed. It jostled the carefully arranged mountain of pillows that were stacked up against the headboard, sending several of them tumbling to the floor. Why did girls always have so many goddamn pillows?

“So that’s why you never let me come in here before. You do live in a two bedroom!”

Chrissy bent to retrieve her fallen children and put them back in their proper place, except for the last, a bright pink fuzzy number with a cross-stitched peace sign on its front that she wacked him in the back of the head with. “I thought we’d moved past this. Haven't I apologized enough for the whole setup thing?”

He stuck out his bottom lip, arms crossed over his chest. “Will the lies never cease, Christine? I feel robbed! You and Robin were never sharing a bed?!”

“We are now and that’s what matters, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waved a hand through the air. “But where’s the pining for the person lying right next to you night after night?! Where’s the lovesick staring at the other person’s face while they sleep and wishing you could just tell them how you feel?! Where’s the drama?!”

“I think we've had more than enough of that around here—for life. Maybe now it’s time for us all to just be happy.”

“Happy…” Eddie repeated with a sigh. 

He hadn’t meant for it to come off so melancholy. He was happy—really and truly.

It’d been a month of pure bliss since he and Steve returned from Hawkins together hand-in-hand. Since all four of them had come back together with apologies, and made up. 

The weeks had been full of passionate nights, and sometimes mornings when he and Steve were both too tired to do much more than cuddle once he came home from the bar—punctuated by lazy afternoons by the motel pool, and double dinner dates with the girls whenever Eddie’s work schedule would allow for it.

But just there, in the background, in the dark corner of Eddie’s mind was this great big looming thing.

“Uh oh. Is the honeymoon phase over already? Did Steve finally realize all your flaws are actually annoying, and not cute quirks?”

“No! Of course not. And I resent the implication that my many eccentricities are anything less than adorable.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

Eddie hesitated. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a secret or anything, but it didn’t escape his notice that Steve hadn’t brought up the subject of his impending new job placement even once since their little talk.

“Nothing is wrong, exactly. It’s just… did you know Steve is staying here—or like, moving here—permanently, when the summer is over?”

“Robin mentioned he was thinking about taking a job at the elementary school, but I didn't know he’d decided.”

“Well, he has, and he wants me to think about staying too.”

Chrissy, who had turned away to rifle through the cosmetics bag sitting open on her dresser, froze, the tip of her mascara wand hovering just above her lashes. 

“And are you?” She asked after a beat, resuming her makeup routine. “Uh… thinking about it, I mean?” 

“Am I—” Eddie grunted, slapping his hand down on the bed. “It's literally the only thing I've been able to think about for weeks!”

“Weeks!” She screeched. “Wait, when did this happen?”

“The day we drove back.”

She gaped at him through the small mirror of her blush compact. “And you’re just telling me this now?!”

He shrugged. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Eddie,” She sighed, snapping the compact shut and spinning on her heel to face him. 

“So, what are your thoughts?”

While he knew she asked out of curiosity and concern for him and Steve and the implications for their future together, she was asking for herself too. 

She’d often made comments over the years, during their all too brief phone calls and in letters, about them living near each other again one day, either in the same town like they did as kids growing up in Hawkins, or better yet, in side-by-side homes or at the end of the same cul-de-sac. 

But those kinds of picket fence dreams were never Eddie’s style, or so he’d always told himself.

“I think…” Eddie stared down at his own hands now resting in his lap, nervously spinning his chunky rings around and around. 

“Me and Steve, I think we’ve done this whole thing out of order. We’ve been living together essentially, since before we were a couple—before we were even friends really. Then we both said I love you within the first few weeks, and now considering permanent for-real moving? Moving towns, moving in together—on purpose this time? That’s huge! I mean, all that’s left after that is to get married, and grow old together, and die, and—” 

Suddenly Eddie felt like he couldn’t get a full breath, what little air he did manage to take into his lungs doing nothing to ease the burning in his chest. His heart raced wildly, and he swallowed hard, tilting wide terrified eyes up to look at Chrissy. 

“Oh god, do you think he wants to get married someday? I don’t know if I’m built for—“

“Ooookay, babe. Let’s just calm down for a second here.” Chrissy sank down onto the bed beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into her side—resting her cheek on the top of his head. 

“For one—honey, gay marriage isn’t even legal.”

Oh right. 

Her words should have filled him with relief, and they did, but to his surprise, just as equal was the feeling of disappointment brought on by the reminder. 

“And for two—” Chrissy went on. “It doesn’t have to be all that. You can always have your own rooms, if say, you decide you want to stay here but you need to slow things down with Steve, or just want some space.”

“No—” He was shaking his head before she’d even finished. “No, I don't want to go backwards. I–I love having him right there. I love his face being the last thing I see before I go to sleep, and the first I see in the morning even though that means waking up at an ungodly hour. It’s totally worth it for his goodbye kiss. I love his sweetness, his gentleness, and the sound of his voice. The soft little smile he gives me when he’s half asleep and I crawl into bed at the end of the night, like I'm his favorite thing in the whole fucking world.”

Eddie took a big breath, he could wax poetic on everything he loved about Steve for hours if she’d let him, but what it really boiled down to was one simple fact. 

“I just love him, Chris.”

Chrissy sniffled, leaning away from him to wipe carefully at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Sorry. I just never thought I'd hear you talk about someone that way.”

Eddie sat up too, shaking his head at himself. “Yeah, me either.”

“So, what's holding you back?”

“Honestly? I wanted to say yes right then and there, the second he told me. The second I recovered from the shock, anyway. But he looked so nervous about it, and scared, and we’d just put things back together again, and—and so I’ve been doing what he asked.”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. 

“I really don’t want to mess this up, and I know I don’t have a lot of experience with this stuff, but I can't help feeling like it’s too soon, like we’re going too fast. What if it fizzles out, and a year from now we can’t stand the sight of each other?” 

She snorted. “Highly unlikely.”

“How do you figure?”

“I think at this point you can admit that you’ve had a crush on Steve since high school, maybe even middle school. That’s a long time to carry a torch for someone. If it’s lasted this long, I’d say those feelings are here to stay.” 

Eddie pushed himself to his feet, resisting the urge to stomp like a petulant child. “Jesus H. Christ. First Uncle Wayne, and now you?! I’m never gonna live that down.”

“Who’s had a crush on who since high school?” Robin's voice filtered in from the other room, just before she appeared in Chrissy's doorway.

“You didn’t tell me she was here.” Eddie scowled at Chrissy before swinging his gaze back around to settle on Robin. 

They may have made nice since he fixed things with Steve, and Eddie did love the shit out of her, but he and Robin’s relationship was akin to that of a slightly antagonistic brother and sister, and he lived for the bit. “Don’t you have a job you should be doing, Buckley?”

Robin cocked her hip, leaning it against the door frame as she crossed her arms, giving him very pointed eye contact. “Don’t you, Munson?” 

Frowning, Eddie glanced at his watch. He had a decent amount of time left before he had to be at the bar to start setting up for Chrissy’s surprise party later, but he still needed to go back upstairs to change, and to get a different little surprise ready for the other love of his life.

“So, you’ve had it bad for Steve since high school too?” Robin said when he didn't hit her with a comeback. “Jeez you two really are perfect for each other.”

Eddie began to roll his eyes but stopped mid-motion as he processed all of what she’d just said. “Wait… too?”

“Oh,” Robin’s eyebrows flew up. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Eddie took a slow step towards her with narrowed eyes.

“Right!” Robin straightened abruptly, hooking a thumb over her shoulder as she started slowly backing away. “So, I’d better get back to the desk. I was just stopping in to say hi and, uh, grab my lunch… I left it on the counter.”

“Robin,” Eddie growled after her, “get back here and explain yourself!” 

“I'll see you tonight!” She shouted back, followed immediately by the slamming of a door.

Coward.

Eddie sighed, looking back to see Chrissy with both hands covering her mouth, practically in tears with silent laughter. 

“I guess I'd better go too, don’t want to be late for work.” Eddie grumbled.

“Sure, Eds,” Chrissy said, eyes still sparkling. “I’ll see you later.”

As far as she knew it was going to be a night like any other. Steve was off the next day, so once the motel office closed for the night, he, Robin, and Chrissy would come to Tide’s to hang out where Eddie could join in from behind the bar whenever he wasn’t busy with customers. 

It being a week out from her actual birthday, she didn't suspect a thing.

Eddie had talked to his boss, and Dan agreed to close the bar to the public from ten p.m. on for a private event so they could celebrate his best friend with the fanfare she deserved. The older man also offered to handle the guest list, aware that Eddie and his friends didn’t know many of the locals yet, and promised to keep it to those he knew to be allies or members of the queer community themselves, so everyone could feel comfortable being themselves for the night without fear of judgment.

As the clock ticked down to party time, Eddie couldn’t stop watching the door, his eyes searching for Chrissy’s blonde ponytail, or Steve’s familiar swoop of chestnut hair, any sign that his three best friends had arrived. They’d put up the private party sign an hour ago, and slowly began to clear the bar of any straggling tourists while the weekend bouncer, Manny, sat out front on a stool, ensuring no one uninvited got inside.

At ten o’clock on the dot they finally arrived, and for a moment all Eddie could do was stare.

Weather due to the heat, which had hit another level as July turned to August, or as a personal assault on Eddie’s sanity, Steve had forgone his usual polo shirts and button ups in favor of an old Madonna tour t-shirt that he’d cut into a crop top, showing off even more tanned skin to its best advantage against the crisp white of the fabric. 

It was an effort, but Eddie forced himself to look away and jump into action, ducking under the bar to rush over and greet his people.

He pressed a quick kiss hello to Steve’s cheek but didn’t let himself linger, going right for his best girl straight after, scooping her up into a tight hug and spinning her around. 

Chrissy threw her head back, squealing with delight as her feet lifted off the ground. 

“Happy Birthday, Chris,” Eddie said as he finally set her down, pressing lips to the top of her head. 

Her eyes darted all around the bar, taking in the small crowd, the rotating lights, the decorations, balloons, and finally the big hand painted banner strung up above the bar. 

“This is all for me?” She asked.

Eddie grinned, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he turned to address their fellow revelers.

“Excuse me everyone!�� He shouted, waiting for the music to be turned down before continuing. “I want to thank you all for being here, and Dan especially for helping put this all together. I’d like to introduce you all to the birthday girl!” 

Hearty applause broke out across the room, as well as shouts of, “Happy Birthday!” And even a few good natured wolf whistles when Chrissy leaned away from Eddie to steal a kiss from her girlfriend.

“Were you in on this too?” Chrissy shouted to Robin over the cacophony.

Robin nodded, “I take no credit though. I might have known about it, but Eddie did all the work.”

Before Eddie could correct the record and explain again that he really owed it all to Dan, the man himself was striding up to them.

“Evening, girls, Steve.” Dan greeted them warmly. 

Steve, and the girls to a lesser extent, had been spending more and more time at the bar lately, and had all quickly become friendly with Eddie’s boss.

“And a very happy birthday to you,” the older man continued, inclining his head at Chrissy. “If you’d like, I thought I could take you and Robin around and introduce you to some of your guests?” 

The girls agreed, promising to meet back up with Steve and Eddie a little later, before rushing off to mingle.

With a palm pressed to his lower back, Eddie led Steve over to the bar. Not that he actually needed the guiding hand, but Eddie was gonna go nuts if he didn’t get to touch Steve soon, and it was one of the few ways he could do that while still maintaining some semblance of decorum.

Steve slid into his usual barstool down the end by the corner, furthest from the speakers so they could actually carry on a conversation, pouting when Eddie let him go to sneak back behind the bar.

“I thought you’d be on this side of the bar tonight.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, with you dressed like that?” Eddie drummed his fingers along the bartop. “Keeping this wood between us is the only way I'll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Who said you had to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Steven,” Eddie warned.

“I thought this was a safe space tonight.”

“Yes love, but I don’t think Dan would appreciate it if I dropped to my knees for you in the middle of the dance floor.”

Steve sagged in his seat, letting out an over dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine.”

Eddie chuckled. Sometimes he wasn’t sure who was rubbing off on who more.

They chatted a little about Steve’s day on the beach while Eddie put together their drinks. The usual for Steve, Jack and Coke with lime, no ice, and a tequila on the rocks for himself. Apparently, the jellyfish were out in full force and it sounded like Steve had spent half his day treating burns with vinegar.

“So, Robin said something interesting earlier today,” Eddie said after a while, when Steve was finished with his stories, and he was pouring out their second round of drinks for the night.

“Oh yeah?” 

Eddie opened his mouth to elaborate but quickly snapped it shut as his boss appeared at Steve’s side—alone.

“Abandoning our girls already, Dan?” Steve asked.

The older man huffed a laugh. “I was just getting in the way anyhow. Introduced them to Tracey and her partner Pat, and the four of them seem to be hitting it off. Figured I’d leave them to make friends. Tracey’s the manager over at Ocean First bank y’know.”

Eddie smiled widely as he met Steve’s eyes, and he knew they had to be thinking the same thing. Not to get ahead of themselves, but if Chrissy and Robin got in good with someone from the bank, it could make all the difference in the motel’s future. 

“That’s, uh, a good friend to have,” Steve commented.

“You aint kiddin’!” Dan clapped Steve on the shoulder, his eyes scanning the room. 

Suddenly he perked up, saying to himself “Oh, there he is,” and began to wave someone over.

Eddie followed his line of sight to the door and nearly choked on his own spit.

Motherfucker.

He felt all the blood drain from his face as another man approached, a younger man who looked to be about their age—a very attractive man who looked eerily similar to the one Eddie had seen from his hiding spot, kissing Steve goodbye on the fateful night that had changed the course of his life forever. 

Eddie reached over, curling a possessive hand over Steve's where it rested on the bar. He held his breath, waiting for Steve’s reaction, but he was oblivious, looking down and taking a sip of his drink.

“Boys, this is my son, Danny.”

Steve's head snapped up at the name, looking horrified as his eyes landed directly on the newcomer.

“This is Eddie,” Dan continued his introductions, completely unaware of the sudden tension in the air. “My best bartender—though if you let slip to Brenda I said that I’ll deny everything. And this is—

Danny smiled, flashing a set of perfectly straight white teeth. “Lifeguard Steve.” 

Eddie hated him.

“Oh! I see you two already know each other.” Dan chuckled, giving a little shake of his head. “Well, that’s a small town for ya! Anyway, I gotta go check on a few things so I'll leave you three to chat.” 

Eddie watched the man walk away, wondering if it would be weird to ask him to stay, and when he turned back found that Steve wasn’t looking at Danny anymore, his wide worried eyes were now trained squarely on Eddie's face, hand tensing under his hold.

And whatever feelings of jealousy Eddie might have felt were gone in an instant, replaced with the need to prove to Steve, as well as himself, that he could handle this without doing any number of stupid things to ruin what they had.

He squeezed Steve's hand once firmly before letting go, leaning out to offer it to Danny, who took it with a raised eyebrow. 

“Good to meet you, your dad tells me nothing but good things,” Eddie said, keeping his voice calm and even as they shook.

Danny tilted his head. “Ditto.” 

Eddie cleared his throat, resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his pants when they separated. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Sure. Just a coke though, I’m driving tonight.” 

As he poured the soda Eddie could feel the man’s heavy gaze lingering on his face, scrutinizing him. He set the full cup down but Danny didn’t take it, instead resting his chin in his hand as he looked thoughtfully between the two of them.

Eddie topped off his tequila, and braced himself.

“So, Steve,” Danny said, addressing Steve directly for the first time. “Is this the guy?”

Steve's face, which had already been flushed and radiating discomfort, burned a bright cherry red at the question, but he didn’t shy away. He shot off a soft shy smile at Eddie as he answered. “Yeah.”

Eddie’s mouth fell open, and he nearly dropped the glass he was holding. “You told him about me?!”

“Good,” Danny said, ignoring Eddie’s outburst, holding back a laugh as he finally took a sip of his coke. “I’m really happy for you, Steve.” 

It sounded sincere enough that Eddie might have relaxed, but then the man’s gaze was swinging his way. 

“And you—I hope you know how lucky you are.”

Eddie swallowed hard, nodding absently, too stunned and confused to form any kind of verbal response.

“Well,” Danny stood abruptly, leaving his barely touched soda to sweat on the lacquered wood top. “It was nice to finally meet you, Eddie, but I think I'll get out of your hair. I should probably go see if my dad needs help with anything anyway. And it was good to see you again, Steve. I’m glad things worked out.” 

There was a beat of tense silence between them as Danny left, but as soon as he was out of earshot, Steve was falling all over himself to apologize.

“Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had no idea he was–” 

Eddie couldn’t help cutting him off, saying again, “You told him about me? On your date?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you! I… Eddie, you have to know. You have to know the only reason I even agreed to the date with him was to get over you, and he could tell I was distracted.”

“Oh.”

“I know we never really talked about that night, um–”

Eddie reached out, once again covering Steve’s hand with his own. “Listen, baby, I'm not upset at you, okay? I’m not gonna freak out, or run away again, or any of that, I promise you. But I don’t think I need to hear the details.”

“No, Eddie. It’s not—” Steve shook his head. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. Nothing happened. Well, um, very little happened.” 

“It’s fine, Steve. I was being an idiot then, and we weren’t—us. Whatever you did before we were together is none of my business.”

“But I couldn’t do it!” Steve blurted out.

“What?”

“We were—” Steve dropped his voice down so low that Eddie had to lean in close. “We were about to, and—”

“No, stop. I don't need to hear–” Eddie pulled back suddenly, waving his hands, only to immediately lean right back in, his chin practically resting on the bar, eyes level with Steve’s. “Okay, no. I mean, yes—no. Fine! Just tell me. It can’t be worse than whatever I'm imagining.”

“Oh my god, '' Steve groaned, burying his head in his hands for a second before looking up again, peeking at Eddie between the gaps of his fingers. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but he was two fingers deep in my ass and all I could think about was how much I wanted it to be you. So I told him I needed to stop.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed. So many emotions coloring the single word.

It was so—sweet. And yes, admittedly, relieving in a way, though he’d had no claim to Steve at the time. 

Okay, so Eddie was a fucking caveman, a jealous animal—so sue him! 

But somehow, above all the rest, it was so incredibly fucking hot to learn that his baby, his needy boy had wanted him—and only him—so badly that he’d stopped practically mid-fuck with someone else.

Eddie’s breath picked up, and he knew his eyes had gone dark and heavy lidded, his hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Fuck,” Steve cursed, drawn out and breathy, his tongue darting out to lick across his bottom lip, leaving it wet and shining in the party lights. “Eddie, you can’t look at me like that, not when there’s hours till we’ll be home where we can do something about it.” 

Eddie’s eyes remained fixed on Steve as he shouted from the corner of his mouth to his coworker. “Hey Dawn, I’m gonna step out for a smoke, you good?”

He wasn’t even technically on the clock right now, they could manage without him for a while. 

“Yep!” The girl replied without even turning around.

Eddie untied his apron, only breaking eye contact to duck under the bar. He took Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he pulled him along towards the kitchen.  

“Where are we going?” Steve whisper-shouted from behind, barely audible over the music.

Eddie stopped just short of the swinging double doors, pulling Steve in by a belt loop to speak in his ear. “Somewhere we can do something about it.”

This late into the evening the kitchen was closed and empty of staff. The big overhead fluorescents had been shut off and every surface scrubbed to within an inch of its life, clean and gleaming in the soft glow of the emergency lights and the red exit sign on the back door.

Eddie continued to lead the way, past the prep tables and behind the line, all the way to the very back and through a heavy insulated door. 

He tried to feel bad about how unhygienic it was to do what he hoped they were about to do in here, but in his defense the food was all wrapped up or in air-tight secure containers. Also bleach existed, and Eddie was more than happy to clean up after himself.

Besides, It wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen in a restaurant walk-in.

It was a frenzy from the moment the door banged shut behind them. Eddie twisted his hand into the front of Steve’s shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. Their mouths connected, all tongues and teeth and hot steamy breath mingling in the frigid air. Steve’s fingers pushed into Eddie's curls, scratching at his scalp, tugging at the root, while Eddie's hands found their way to that slutty little bare strip of tummy that his boyfriend had insisted on teasing him with tonight, gripping hard on either side of Steve’s waist as he moved them further in towards the rear of the walk-in.

Steve hissed as his back hit the chilled metal of the wall, his skin breaking out in goosebumps under palms hands.

“Sorry, baby,” Eddie cooed in sympathy, grinding his own hardness against Steve’s as he nipped at his lower lip. “It was this or the bathroom, and I didn’t particularly want an audience.”

Steve pushed off the wall, grinning as he grabbed Eddie hard by the shoulders to spin them around, switching their positions and pressing him into the wall instead. 

Eddie went willingly, delighted as Steve unknowingly played right into the dynamic he was hoping for tonight, and waited for Steve’s lips to find his again, even reached out to pull the other man in again, but Steve slipped from his grip to drop straight to the floor, a desperate and hungry look in his eyes.

With well practiced fingers Steve quickly undid Eddie's jeans, yanking them down to his thighs so roughly he might have stumbled without the wall to lean against. He had a second to feel the cold air hit his most sensitive bits of bare skin before Steve swallowed him down, taking him right to the back of his throat. 

Eddie could do nothing but moan, letting his head fall back against the wall for a breath, waiting for his brain to catch up with the rest of him, so lost in the sensation of Steve's mouth, scorching where it engulfed him, that he almost forgot his surprise. 

Winding one hand through Steve's hair in encouragement, Eddie used the other to take Steve’s hand from where it rested on his thigh to guide it around to his ass. Steve only hesitated for a moment before kneading at the soft plump flesh, still bobbing his head up and down the length of Eddie’s cock, but faltered and froze as his fingers bumped up against the base of the silicone plug that had been nestled in Eddie’s hole for the last several hours.

Steve pulled off with a soft gasp, letting the tip of Eddie's cock rest on his tongue as he looked up, watching Eddie’s face with something like awe as he pushed on the plug. 

From the tips of his toes to the top of his head Eddie felt his entire body flush with a new heat, it prickled along his neck and chest, and he had to fight to keep his eyes on Steve and not let them fall shut at the sudden intensity of his need.

“Where did you get this?” Steve asked, sounding wrecked in a way that Eddie suspected had less to do with the brief blowjob, and more to do with his little stunt.

Eddie whined as Steve tugged on the toy, pulling it out about an inch before pushing it back in again, punching the air from his lungs. 

“Would you believe there’s a little mom and pop sex shop not far from here?” Eddie forced out between panted breaths.

Steve hummed, grazing his lips over the skin of Eddie’s inner thigh as he released the plug, leaving it in place for now. “I guess this town really does have it all.”

Eddie chuckled softly and reached down to pull Steve to his feet, cupping his cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. 

“Fuck me?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

Steve made a pained noise, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck, peppering kisses along the underside of his jaw. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, fuck—want it.” Eddie tilted his head back to give Steve better access to his throat. “Been thinking about you bending me over—dreaming about it.”

The words were barely out of Eddie’s mouth before Steve was growling, gripping him up again and moving him—manhandling him in a way he never had before as he gave Eddie exactly what he wanted—bending him over a low, blessedly empty shelving unit.

Steve pushed at Eddie’s shirt, dragging it roughly up and over his head before tossing it to the floor somewhere behind them. He leaned over Eddie’s back, pressing kiss after kiss down the entire length of his spine, pausing at the base of it, resting those big hands on Eddie’s ass again, spreading him wide and taking hold of the plug to gently pull it out, placing it on another nearby shelf.

Eddie swallowed back a whimper, his body clenching around nothing, suddenly empty after so many hours of being filled, but he knew what was coming would be even better, and the sound of Steve’s zipper coming undone only made him clench harder. 

Eddie flushed again, another rush of warmth as beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow in anticipation. There was a brush of rough denim against the back of his thigh, and then velvet heat as Steve pressed in close, rubbing his hard length between Eddie’s cheeks, teasing over his hole.

“Condom?” Steve asked, sounding like it was a struggle just to get the word out.

They hadn’t been using them at all since both their test results had come back clear. And Eddie could appreciate Steve wanting to make the cleanup easier on him since they were out in public for the night, but it couldn’t have been further from what he wanted.

“No,” Eddie pressed himself back, his body shuddering as the tip of Steve's cock caught on his rim. “No, wanna feel it when you come inside me for the first time.”

“Fuck, okay.” Steve sucked air in harshly through his teeth. “Lube?” 

“In my back right pocket.” 

Eddie glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see Steve raise the packet to his mouth, tearing it with his teeth before pouring it over himself. Some of the cool wetness dripped down onto Eddie as well, and Steve spread it around with two fingers, pushing just the tip of one inside at first. When he was met with no resistance Steve plunged them both in at once, reaching and curling until he found that sweet spot inside Eddie that sent his eyes rolling back, and had him writhing and bucking his hips against the hard metal of the shelf. 

“Please, Steve, I’m ready,” Eddie begged. 

Mercifully, Steve didn’t make him ask twice, easing his fingers free before lining himself up, and inch by gentle inch began to push his way inside.

It felt like an eternity before Steve finally bottomed out, and Eddie wanted to cry with how good it felt to be full, really full, for the first time in he didn’t even know how long. It wasn’t something he let himself have very often. He really did prefer to top as a rule, but sometimes—sometimes he just needed it, wanted it, and tonight he also wanted to give Steve the last part of himself that he’d been holding back. 

With shallow careful thrusts Steve began to move, draping himself over Eddie’s back, pressing lips to whatever swaths of skin he could reach. 

Tears streamed from the corners of Eddie’s eyes, overcome with the feeling of being had in this new way by someone he loved, who loved him back. It felt incredible but he soon needed more. Eddie tried to rock back on instinct, but found Steve hands already on his hips, stilling him before he could move an inch.

“Steve,” Eddie whined.

Steve shushed him, rubbing small soothing circles into Eddie’s lower back with his thumbs. “You always make me feel so good, just let me return the favor.”

“I thought you were cold?” Eddie grunted, trying again to fuck himself back on Steve’s length, but the other man’s grip was like a vice.

“Not anymore,” Steve said, and Eddie could practically hear the smirk in his voice, though he did sink a little deeper, still keeping his pace frustratingly slow and even, like he was trying to drive Eddie insane. “Seeing you fall apart like this? We could be standing in the middle of a snowstorm right now and I'd still be sweating.”

And oh he’d definitely be paying Steve back for this later.  

“Baby, please,” Eddie whined again, a high-pitched, desperate sound he could hardly believe had come from his own mouth.

“How soundproof do you think this thing is?” Steve asked.

“How should I fucking know?!” Eddie growled in frustration. “Why?!”

Without warning Steve snapped his hips, slamming into him so hard that for a second Eddie couldn’t even make a sound. He threw his head back, mouth wide open in a silent scream of pleasure—followed by an actual scream. Steve surged forward, slapping a hand over Eddie’s mouth, pulling his head back to hiss into his ear, hot breath ghosting over Eddie’s skin as he rammed into him again and again, hard enough to shake the shelving unit that was bolted to the floor. 

“No reason.” 

There was nothing slow or gentle about Steve after that.

For a while Eddie lost himself to the pounding rhythm and the loud slapping of flesh as Steve fucked into him impossibly harder and faster. 

He’d never last at this rate, it was just too fucking good, and he wasn’t alone. Before long Steve was reaching for him, stroking Eddie’s cock as his own breaths became ragged and he began to lose his rhythm.

With one last powerful thrust Steve came, cock pulsing violently as he buried himself deep inside, and Eddie’s last coherent thought as he followed him over that edge, losing control as he felt himself being filled up with Steve’s release, was that they really ought to switch things up more often.

Steve laid across Eddie’s back for a long minute as they both came down and caught their breath, neither really wanting to move at all, but inevitably Steve grew soft and slipped out, leaving a trickle of cum slowly leaking from Eddie’s hole in his wake.

“Eds, honey, do you have your bandana or anything on you?” Steve asked softly.

Eddie looked back, biting his lip, suddenly shy about what he wanted as the afterglow began to fade. “No, uh, but I was hoping you would plug me back up instead?”

“Jesus, Eddie. Yeah—yeah, okay,” Steve stuttered, his dick giving a valiant twitch against Eddie’s leg. 

Eddie was loose enough, and slick enough with the combined mess of cooling fluids that the plug sank home easily, and he was grateful he’d worn black jeans tonight to help mask any residual mess. 

When their pants were back in place and he’d retrieved Eddie’s shirt from the floor, Steve took him in his arms and lowered them both to the floor, cradling Eddie in his lap as he kissed his forehead.

Eddie knew the rest of the summer would go by in a flash. 

Before long the season would be over, tourism would slow as vacationers traveled home for the year, and the beaches would start to empty. 

The new school year would begin.

Though they hadn’t talked about it, Eddie had seen the note on their dresser. He knew Steve’s final interview was in two short days, and he’d be expecting an answer soon. 

And for once, the idea of it didn’t fill Eddie with panic.

He'd done his thinking. 

He’d weighed the risks and pondered the worries, done the calculations in his head and realized there had only ever been one answer to this equation. 

For now he let himself bask in the moment, so safe and comfortable in the circle of Steve’s arms, the brush of soft lips pressed to his brow.

He knew what he wanted—had known it all along.

Now he just had to find the perfect way to tell Steve.

All my thanks and love to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend, and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

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@gregre369

[charleslee-valentine]

Menace

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Month Event: Day 1- Alternate Communication

Word Count: ~5,200

Warnings: Period typical understanding of trans identities, period typical attitudes, and out of date language. Domestic child abuse. Unintentional ableism/infantilization of a disabled character. Later intentional ableism. Hurt minimal comfort. Mean-spirited. Drayton Sawyer is not nice.

_____________

Bubba’s at that age where he’s got a lot of questions.

A real teenager now, already thirteen and in that phase that the twins had before him, where there’s no excuses or lies to trick them into being quiet and obedient would work anymore. Now he’s got all the questions.

That’s not to say it’s the same kind of curiosity. His older brothers were sneaky, conniving things that could be tricky with the questions they asked, could get answers to things they wasn’t exactly s’posed to know. Somethin’ they were quite proud of.

But Bubba’s questions were more often about the deep thoughts of life. Things like how stars are made and where rainbows come from. Apparently the Bibles in every nightstand weren’t good enough answer for him. Fair enough since nobody read ‘em after Great Grandma’s days.

Bubba, with all his overflowing need for answers, come to the twins with a little notepad. It ain’t easy for him to write, but it’s even harder to speak, so Bubba has a system. He makes little letters and short words along with his noises to build a story his brothers can eventually understand.

Today though, his question is big, and they aren’t getting what he needs. Which means they doesn’t know how to answer it. Which means Bubba gets so upset he’s about to start cryin’.

They take note of the shiny tears formin’ in his big ol’ eyes, and Bobby is the one to promise, “W-We’ll fix it! We’ll fix it, lil’ B-Bubba!”

Nubbins leaves to the kitchen and returns with a cup of juice, the kind with a lid he used to drink from when he was younger but the twins still think he likes, “Here! I-Is ‘at w-what’cha wanted?”

Bubba gives a roll of his (unfortunately misty) eyes and pushes it away with a huff. He’s not a baby that cries for juice, he’s having a crisis and wishes his brothers would just get it.

“Aw, Bubby w-what the hell y-you on?!” Bobby complains sharply, which just kind of makes Bubba lose control and cry.

Both twins feel bad for causing those tears to finally fall, though they won’t say it, deciding to go and find the powers of the house to fix their mess up.

“L-Let’s go ask big b-brother-“ Nubbins announces, looking to Bubba to see if that’s okay, so Bubba gives a tiny nod.

Each takes one of his hands, guiding him as they run down the stairs calling, “Drayton! Drayton!”

They caught him off guard with his second or maybe third coffee of the day, bitter liquid spilling down the rim of the mug and splattering on the counter. Earns them a raised voice, “Christ on a goddamn- Who lit a flame under your asses? I taught you better’n runnin’ ‘round here like hellions!”

“Bubba’s got- B-Bubba’s got a question a-and we c’ain’t figures it o-out!” Nubbins explains for the trio of them, long arms raised out and above Bubba’s head to protect the littlest one from a possible punishment over the spilled coffee.

They’re lucky that their older brother can be a little bit nicer to Bubba, talking to him like a human at times, “That right? C’mere, Bubba.”

Like he’s in trouble, or still five years old and barely walking, Bubba waddles forward to Drayton with his head down and his hands clasped and twiddling behind his back.

Drayton scoffs at his demeanor as though he ain’t given his brothers every reason under the sun to be afraid, “Ain’t in trouble. Wha’s’a matter?”

Because he’s gotten so tall, Bubba hunches his shoulders down to be at a height around the same as Drayton. Quietly, though not quite a whisper on account of not really being able to, Bubba babbles away, his tone and his inflection to the sounds he makes in place of any distinct words.

Drayton never did need the written out sentences that the twins did, understanding his cooing as though he were speaking perfectly clear English.

“Uh-huh..” Eyebrows drawn tight together, a deep frown across his aging face, Drayton asks for the truth, “Boy you ain’t pullin’ on my chain?”

Bubba shakes his head, “Nuh-uh!” Makes a little cross over his heart to swear it's true and everything.

Suddenly his exasperated face turns grim. Mist of sad behind his eyes.

“This’n… Big brother c’ain’t fix this’n, you hear. I’m no good for that.. I’m- Ain’t a very good influence..”

The twins exchange a glance, mutually understanding absolutely nothing of what’s going on, before Nubbins nudges Bobby so he’ll speak up. He chirps, “Drayton? Drayton w-w-watcha talkin’?”

Drayton’s shoulders snap backwards like he’s been shoved over by some specter, startled clear out of his self-reflection and onto the defensive, “Boys your.. your Bubba needs a little help.”

“Tha’s y-yer job though!” Bobby argues, angry that they thought he'd be nice enough to help when they couldn’t figure out how.

“Shut your mouth!” Hand flying out like it’s nothin’, Drayton dishes out a backhand that hits Bobby first and scratches slightly on Nubbins’ jaw too. He gives an order with a grimace, hating to be undermined but never rising to his duties, “You boys take Bubba ‘n show ‘im upstairs to your Gran’parents’ room.”

Timidly, but the curious, argumentative spirit never quite extinguished in him, Nubbins asks, “Why? W-Wha’s up there?”

“I’ll show you when I get to that for God’s sakes!.. Need a damn smoke firs’..” Draytons voice trails off as he storms for the front door, slamming it shut and, from the sound of it, pacing around the porch.

Unfazed, the twins start dragging their little brother around again, “C’mon l-lil’ Bubba!”

Frustrated at being babied in his teen years, Bubba whines all the way up the steps. already a head taller than the shortest of his three older brothers, he can’t grasp why they want to see him as some tiny, fragile baby. Maybe then they’d understand his growing pains, if they could just see him as a regular 13 year old.

“M-Mean ol’ man, huh Bubba?” Bobby bumps him with his shoulder playfully, big cheeseburger smile on, like it’s funny he got hit and Bubba didn’t get any answers.

A whole slurry of sad and frustrated and scared mixes together and just turns Bubba’s stomach. The best he can muster is a shrug.

They take reluctance as a sign of worry, with Nubbins informing him in a harsh whisper, “Y-You’s allowed to say it. Ain’t n-nobody like Cook.”

“E-Even Cook don’ like Cook!” Bobby adds, breaking into a cackle that makes Nubbins laugh along.

That confuses Bubba, making a noise he hopes they can understand so they explain better, “Duh?”

Sort of better. Bobby starts up his rambling, “He’ just pissed ‘cause.. ‘cause I-I bet he had that d-dumb ol’ face his wh-whole life.”

Now that’s confusing. Everyone in the family always had just the one, except for Bubba, ever since he started wearing masks just a couple years ago.

Nubbins starts to steer his twin into understandable territory, “Heh heh, yeh, B-Bubs gets a newww face when- when he’s feelin’ like a stuck-up bitch hog!”

“But all the old man does, i-is make that ol’ sucker face!” Bobby howls.

Of course both twins immediately imitate Drayton’s grumpy face with exaggerated pouts and scrunched features. A rumbly laugh squeaks out of Bubba, though he feels guilty for finding their insults funny. It dies off pretty fast and then he stares at the ground instead, hoping they’re done with their teasing.

It doesn’t help that they’re wrong. Bubba isn’t upset about anything to do with the face and neither was Drayton. The masks have already been serving their purpose, with their makeup and shiny hair. That’s just what scares him. Thinking maybe Drayton got mad about that he likes to wear lady faces sometimes, and the questions starting up now surrounding if that’s allowed.

Because that ain’t the reason, what the twins said ‘bout changin’ every time he gets bored and stuffy and irritated. Bubba thinks that, some of the time anyway, he really is a lady, underneath the face and all.

Miming for the twins to understand that is futile, but he tries anyhow, flashing his hands and pointing to his mask and shaking his head in a pattern.

The twins are not subtle about their confusion. Staring blankly, Bobby asks his twin, “You gots any idea w-what he’s sayin’?”

Nubbins shakes his head no, taking a random guess based on earlier, “Bubba- B-Bubba is you askin’ why.. why the Cook’s so mean?”

“Oh yeah! I-I bet that’s it!” Bobby bounces on his heels, like he’s excited to be wrong.

Poor Bubba makes an ‘X’ with crossed arms, but they just ignore it, their minds made up already about his intention.

Starting with Nubbins, they tell the story they’ve been told when they’ve asked why Drayton was treating them badly, “Well uh..uh.. m-me an’ Bobby, we was born jus’ when Drayton was ‘boutta m-move real far a..away.”

“He-He found some.. some dumb job was gonna s-steal him from the fam’ly. And we th-thinks he had a.. a secret l-lady friend!”

“‘T-‘Til us lil’ cripples was born. Th-That’s his words eh-zactly.”

Bubba’d heard all that before by himself, but it sounded more interesting when the twins told it rather than big brother. At least they weren’t holding it over his head. If he could manage reasonably communicatin’ with them, he’d like to know more, so he makes a motion with his hands pulling towards himself.

Nubbins understands Bubba wants more knowledge, but doesn’t know what to tell him, deciding to reminisce, “I-I-I’s gonna pull out them-them photo picture albums! W-We’ll find somethin’ good in them! Drayton’s book ain’t th-that big, w-we could pull it down for answers!”

Frantic, this attempt at bonding not at all what he wanted, Bubba tries to whine and make a ‘stop’ motion with his hands on account of they aren’t allowed. Getting in trouble is the last thing he wants right now.

But Bobby scolds him, while helping his twin to drag down the giant dusty photo book, “Oh hush, b-big brother ain’t gonna be f-finished with them cigs ‘til- ‘til he’s stinkin’ worse’n G-Gramma used to.”

“Shush it! B-Bubs don’ remembers her neither!” Nubbins gives a thwack to Bobby’s head not unlike the one they received from Drayton earlier for that slip up. Without asking first if Bubba even cared, which he didn’t all that much.

The twins sit on the dusty old bed, each with a cover of the book in their laps over crossed legs. Bobby flips the first few pages, past the really, really old photos of people they never even heard of. Once yellows and orangey browns fades to black and white, they find what they're looking for an’ point for Bubba to see, “Lookie, h-here she is!”

It’s Grandma in her dressey clothes, wrapped in layers and layers of lace and pretty colors they can’t quite see under the colorless photo. She died wearin’ that same Pearl necklace and the curlers that would’ve made her up-did ringlets if she ever gots to take ‘em out. Her gappy, black toothed smile shows a different side, where she’s not so fancy, but they loved her all the same and she loved them. According to how her eyes crinkle and her cheeks look rosy, whole figure outlined by the faintest blur from the shake of her laughter, she loves the little baby in her arms too.

That’s the trouble though. A baby girl, according to the bows on her tiny clothes. Nubbins’ face gets all offended, “W-Wha’s she doin’ in Drayton’s pictures book with some lil’ l-lady baby?” He flips to double-check the name on the front, and sure ‘nough it says ‘Drayton’ right there, in clear as day handwriting. ‘Sides, far as they know, ain’t been a little girl Sawyer born in sixty some years.

“Lemme see that!” Bobby snatches the book away so he can bring it up to his face and narrow his fuzzy eyes at it, focusin’ real hard ‘til he concludes, “Well th-that outta b-be Mama.”

Now Nubbins knows that ain’t right and rolls his eyes, “No, you-you dummy, Gramma was only our age w-when Mommy was born. Ain’t no ol-old lady already.”

“That ain’t old.” Bobby concludes without looking again at Gramma’s obvious wrinkles in the picture.

“It ain’t y-y-young neither!”

“Sh-Shuddup!”

Nubbins being taller is able to snatch the book and clamber to his knees, holding it high up above Bobby’s head. With his other hand, he blocks his scratching and swatting to defend the book, when he turns his head and notices their little brother watching.

“Bubba, y-you wanna sees it?”

Bubba nods oh so excitedly, making hands like grabby little claws. Nubbins giggles and hands it to him, probably hoping to dump it off anyhow so he can fight Bobby with his full attention.

Only a little disturbed by all the commotion and rattling of the bed they’re using as a fighting ring, Bubba slowly flips through, watching the stranger baby girl in Grandma’s arms grow up into a toddler, and then a little kid, no older than seven or eight years old.

And suddenly, the little girl chops all her hair off, and starts swimmin’ in baggy old clothes, and smiles bright ‘n wide, showin’ off two little bucked teeth. That is Drayton.

Bubba gasps and squeals and bounces to get the twins’ attention.

“What? W-What’s a’ matter Bubba?” Bobby checks up, showing actual real concern underneath the big red slap mark on his face.

Nubbins looks, double-takes to process the shocked expression on Bubba’s face, and then gets angry at his twin, blaming him and all the arguing for Bubba’s emotion, “Y-You scared ‘im!”

“Nuh-uh! Uh-uh!” Bubba insists, waving his hands.

They stop to get their answers and see Bubba’s fished out the little picture from under the sticky plastic, holding it out. Flipped to the back, there’s some blue pen, sort of sideways and scratchy writing but easy enough to read.

The twins know it as Mama’s handwriting, a little script that says: ‘Little Es is officially a big boy. Asks we call him - Drayton. 1925’

“Woah.” They deadpan at the same time, sharing another playful nudge over their jinx.

Nubbins is the first to deviate from their identical surprise, with a question, “W-What’s this business big brother was a b-baby girl for? Is a-all babies girls?”

“No way, stupid. J-Just the ones that the Mama and the Daddy gets- gets confused.” Bobby snorts at him, always acting like he’s so much smarter.

Since he wants to be, Nubbins asks him sarcastically, though it is true really doesn’t know on his own, “What’s ‘at mean?”

“They m-mixed it up a-and c-couldn’t tell which was it.” Bobby says it like it’s obvious.

Now it’s Nubbins’ turn to get all haughty, ‘cause he thought of somethin’ smart that says what Bobby’s actin’ like is true, ain’t. “What, y-you thinks babies change they-they’s own diapers? Nope.”

Fed up with them, Bubba covers his ears and squeaks as loud as possible, “Eeee!”

No more words, they both snap to attention looking at him. Bubba calmly starts to mimic with his hands, pointing to the baby girl picture, slicing through the air, and pointing again to Drayton’s first boy picture. He’s trying to show them the progression, that this was a gradual change.

“Uh… Dr-Drayton splitted in half?” Bobby guesses.

Nubbins claps his hands once as he realizes, “No! Bubby says Drayton jus’ a-a replacement! Th-They switched ‘im out!”

Yet again, Bubba is sighing at their wildness and shaking his head over their out of place assumptions.

But he feels bad about it immediately, once Drayton appears. Liked he cursed his brothers to a punishment for mostly innocent teasing by being frustrated at them.

Drayton reeks of cigarette smoke so badly they could prob’ly all suffocate in this dusty old room. He scans and finds the book out of place, immediately turning sour about the face, “What the hell you boys got into, huh?”

Bobby takes their incorrect theory and runs with it, “W-What’s it your business, you ain’t e-even our real big b-brother! Y-You just a replacement!”

“Yeh!!” Nubbins backs him up, nodding furiously.

“Give me that..” Drayton snatches his photo back, cradling it between his hands like they were playin’ with another wounded little baby bird or somethin’, “I oughta whoop you boys. I-I oughta beat you both senseless!!”

His red-faced rage scares them, but they deflect instead of admitting that, Nubbins pointing to their younger brother with accusation, “H-Hey! Bubba looked too!”

“Have you forgotten Bubba was who you two ingrates was s’posed t’ be helping!?” Drayton seems to just shrug off the attempt, turning it into more furious ammunition.

Brown-ish eyes get all wide, Nubbins frantic to insist, “Uh… no! We jus’... uh..”

“W-We don’ understand ‘im!” Bobby finishes for him.

So much for pretendin’ like they got it all handled, they gotta go cryin’ to big brother to fix it like they aren’t grown themselves now too, “We-We’s tried it! But like you s-said, we ain’t v-ver’ smart!”

“B-Big brother, we's jus’ stupid!!” They lament, lanky, scarred up arms finding their place around each other as they both start wailing.

Now Bubba really feels bad. The twin’s last birthday was number 18, meaning in the eyes of the law they was liable on they own now, full grown enough to move out and do somethin’ besides just play all day. Funny thing though, is the government not knowin’ they been workin’ all their lives, ‘round the farm or helpin’ Drayton with his business.

Just don’t seem like it sometimes, when they’re both burstin’ into tears, all torn up over bein’ bad at their assigned role as Bubba’s big brothers. The way they baby him don’t sting quite so much now, knowin’ they was just tryin’ all they knew to get it right. Shouldn’t really be up to them, or Drayton for that matter, it should be their mama.

Bubba saw her picture in his book, her giant brown eyes, carved into her slender face by puffy rims. Her smile was sort of the same way, chipped away from a bony, pale sort of glow about her. Unlike Gramma, Mama didn’t doll herself up in dark red lipsticks and spidery eye lashes. Mama wore every freckle and mole and the burn scar on her cheek with pride.

Looking into that face, peppered with all kinds of realness, Bubba can’t imagine her leaving jus’ ‘cause of his face. Drayton told him that all along, that his face had these awful gaps and dents and pinches that warped it around, along the lines of where he now had ropey pink scars and droopy eyes.

Mama was pretty, so pretty he’s a little jealous, but her eyes just got this look a lot like love and acceptance that makes Bubba want to believe somethin’ different happened back then. It’s nicer to think Mama would’ve helped his ways of communicatin’, than it is to admit she walked out, whatever the reason.

“Now.. Now, that’s enough of that! Quiet!” Drayton is hollering at the twins to stop their cryin’, drawing Bubba up out of the photo book and into the current problem. Or rather, problems, counting being caught with the picture books, yelling at Drayton, all their bickering, and Bubba struggling to communicate on top of all that.

For their part, the twins do quiet down to just sniffles, watching as Drayton points in their faces and turns,

“I’ll be back to you two after ‘ while.”

For now he’s dealin’ with Bubba, who’s got dread pumpin’ in his veins like a rainstorm against the windows.

Drayton wets his lips and forces a chuckle like he does when he’s talking to a victim. Bubba thinks his brother must be half scared of somethin’, as he motions to the photo book, “What’s ‘at you got there?”

It’s got to be a trap. A trick question. Bubba slams it shut and snatches it close, wrapping his arms around it. A teeny part of him hopes he can hide that it’s Drayton’s particular book, until he remembers that he’d already seen the particular snapshot in history they was all lookin’ at.

“Ah, c’mon now. Show me.” Drayton coos, a tone reserved almost exclusively for folks tied to the dinner table, or the way he talks to the food in the truck when he thinks the boys are too busy to listen.

There’s danger in that. Bubba eases up slowly, presenting the book on the page he’d been fixated to. Drayton takes it full out of his hands and flips through with skill and ease, clearly looked through this photo book many times while nobody else was s’pose to see.

What he lands on is another photo of himself, a little older this time, proudly in line with Grandpa, officially recognized as a man of this house. Someone in their history’d doctored it to have a small cut out photo of little Drayton next to it. With his hair in girly piggy tails and a skirt lengthwise down to his shins.

“See here, this’n’s the one I wanted t’ show ya.”

Bubba thinks he’s starting to understand that they were supposed to look in the photo books. Drayton would’ve hit them already instead of later on, if he could truly bring himself to be angry about their spying. Big brother must ought’ been too shy to show off the pictures, preferring them to find it without him in the room. Maybe in case they said somethin’ mean.

“You was sayin’ ‘bout all that, boy-girl business. One to the other, huh? There ya have it. Know a fella myself done that.” He starts, bridging together all the small pieces in Bubba’s head to build the bond he’d hoped.

Earlier, what Bubba told Drayton that the twins couldn’t understand, he was tellin’ about his questions, his crisis, his out of body feelins.

Bobby gets impatient with Drayton takin’ it all so slow though, “Y-You did, you ch-changed-“

“Damn it, I know that! Tryin’a make friendly!“ Drayton whips his head ‘round to yell, taking a slow, deep breath on the way back to brace himself for the serious side of this, “Lookie, Bubba. You know.. heh.. big brother ain’t as naive as I look. Let you do all that business with your makeup ‘n them suits of your departed auntie’s, ‘cause I seen the inklin’ of this all along.”

Like a confused critter, a puppy at the door wonderin’ who’s on the other side, Bubba tilts his head sideways, “Guh?”

“Well now I watched you grow, didn’t I? Noticed you wasn’t like your brothers.” Drayton laughs like there’s a joke, but it’s still too tense to be real. His cold tone and accompanying lisp drop in, “But Bubba, you gots to be real serious ‘bout this if you’s gonna switch it up. Now I.. you know I can’t just start sayin’ I got’a little sister and everybody gonna be okay with it.”

Now Drayton won’t look him in the eyes, in the pretty woman face he’s wearin’ to feel the way his brother is describing, instead fixing his eyes downwards to his hands, “They’ll see through ya. God knows it. Best to stick ‘round the house much as you can if’n you go on with it. Can’t run ‘round the slaughterhouse or the station so free. ‘Til the idea of boy Bubba dies off anyhow.”

It still feels like too much. Like all kinds of commitment and work that’s still going to leave the problem exposed. What Drayton’s talking is doin’ a heart surgery on a brain-dead bitch hog. Ain’t gonna fix a damn thing.

Bubba shakes his head defiantly. The room around him is silent, Drayton’s face falling so bad you’d swear somebody done slapped him right ‘cross it.

Nubbins must noticed, cause he taps Drayton on his arm, whisper-informing him, “Cook, I-I thinks he’s sayin’ he don’ want that.”

“That right, huh? You wanna stay a boy?” Drayton tries to clarify.

But Bubba shakes his head at that too, and crosses his arms now.

“So you is wantin’ to be a girl?”

Another shake. Drayton’s skipping over the right answer, and Bubba hopes he’ll understand that if he could just deny his questions enough. It feels strange, that his usual go-to for understandin’ is now so closed off, caught up in his own experience so much he can’t see Bubba’s how it is.

The twins ain’t perfect about the way they talk with Bubba but they do try, or at least they’s goin’ to now, ‘cause Bobby excitedly declares. “I know this! I-I-I know this! I think Bubba w-wanna be both!”

A little surprised honestly, Bubba feels a big burst of happy energy from his heart out into his limbs. He wiggles his arms and claps his hands together, faster than he would if he were talkin’ this way.

Drayton is stuck up on Bobby bein’ right, not takin’ it a good way like Bubba, “That ain’t the way it works, fool.”

Bubba ain’t sure if he’s talkin’ the boy-girl stuff, or the ‘Drayton isn’t always right and the twins know their shit sometimes’ stuff.

“S-Sure it is! If that’s what B-Bubba wants!” Nubbins sounds too confident, and they all realize he’s just rubbing salt in the wounds as much as he is extending an olive branch past the old man to Bubba.

“Yeh! O-Old man don’ make the rules!” Bobby agrees, and they’re across the other side of the bed, but Bubba feels like they’re huggin’ him, wrapped around with happy feelings and pleasant warmth.

“I ain’t old yet. And damn it I didn’t say a contrary word!” Drayton insists, taking the high road. No fists go flying, or belts for that matter, just a sort of vulnerability uncovered that would usually have that violent shield over top when his usefulness slipped, “Bubba, help your big brother understand.”

“Uh…” Bubba don’t know how. It’s been put plainly already. He just kinda freezes with his wrists bent up soothingly.

“U-Use the p-pictures, Bubs!” Bobby encourages him, since that’s how he got his point across to them before. Poorly scrawled words didn’t ever really cut it and neither did his gestures, so pictures would have to do.

Only, he doesn’t really get how to do that with limited photos of Drayton’s upbringing that got nothin’ to do with this current issue at all. That must show in his eyes, the panic and the just stuck feeling that’s catching up to him.

Nubbins suggests, “Make.. m-make new ones!”

To show it’s possible, Bobby fetches another yellow-paged notepad, while Nubbins produces a pencil from behind his ear, there ‘cause he was copying the pen Drayton usually keeps there on his own person.

Bubba babbles his version of a thank you, simple phrases like that still known to the family more than this complex stuff, and begins doodling. It takes two entire pages to show it all in his pictures, things like Bubba changing outfits, wearing his boy self and then his girl self, a calendar and the rotating sun showing it’s a day to day sort of thing. At first, Bubba had wanted to know if that was normal, his questions being about how to handle it.

Their reactions were answer enough though, and now it’s just like he’s answerin’ his own questions. Makes him feel kinda smart, drawing out answers and showing all the feelings her never managed to speak on. Really and truly communicating.

Drayton looks it all over when he’s finished and sort of half, fake-smiles.

“Sometimes a she, sometimes a he. Long as yer dressed accordin’ly, think I can work with ‘at. Knew a few fellas down… well you don’ want ‘t know all ‘at. Heh. Older you kids get, less I think I’m knowin’ how ‘t talk to ya.”

Shaking his head at himself in something like shame, Drayton gets up to leave. He’s frustrated at having failed at understanding, but just as much about having passed on his afflictions in the way of the human sex to poor Bubba somehow.

Hands shaking, he goes to the door to leave, before stopping. His heavy, quivery breaths fill the room more than any of the noise they’d been making today, “Bubba. Don’t go tellin’ this to the outside, you hear? These drawins, they stay in the home. To the outside you’re mute again.”

“That ain’t f-fair! I-If we can understands his art, e-everyone oughta, a-and he’ll be jus’ like normal!” Bobby stands and argues, his twin nodding furiously behind him.

Bubba though, he doesn’t like all the yelling and covers his eyes to hide from it.

“Hell what makes you boys think you know a damned thing about normal? Huh? What makes ya think I don’t?” Drayton had stomped forward, probably grabbed the boy according to the way Bobby yelped. Bubba curls up tighter and hopes that slap he just heard doesn’t hurt as bad as it sounded.

“Thats right ain’t nothin’ normal ‘round here, ‘n I ‘llow that much, but you find yourself testin’ my damn limits!!”

The door slams again and something falls over, a bone animal Bubba is pretty sure but not positive until he’s ready to uncover his eyes. In the quiet, the twins check up on each other first before coming back to gently inform Bubba.

“Psst. Bubba. H-He gone.” It’s Nubbins that says that.

Slowly Bubba comes out of hiding, obvious to all that a couple tears slipped past and wet his mask just so. Staying hushed, Bobby gently takes the drawing pad he was using and puts it in the big pocket on the inside of his sleeveless jacket.

“Iss alright. Lookie. Here look. I-I’s gon’ keep this.. this lil’ pad in my pocket, a-an when you wants to speak you tell one ‘f us. Th-That way, you ain’t the one c-carryin’ it so y-youu won’ get in trouble!”

“Tha’s sm-smart.” Nubbins testifies, grinning some. Seeing his toothy smile makes Bubba feel better, catching his breaths and steadying back out to no more panic. He gives a nod in agreement.

Bobby got a little ego about him from that claim, “I know it! W-We both is!”

Instead of the argument Bubba was expecting, the twins clap their hands together and clasp them there, connecting and silently saying that they handled this good. Cheeriness comes back into them and they’re laughing like hyenas before Bubba’s had time to process.

He still feels a little sad on his own. Ain’t easy bein’ told he’s a freak of nature needs to hide from the public, no matter how many times or for which reason it happens.

At least the notepad wasn’t burned up or somethin’, and he’s still ‘llowed to use it at home. Looking at all the photo albums, home to the first inkling of this understanding, he gets the idea to make a new one, that will hold his communication drawings as the pictures. That’ll be his next craft, and surely Nubbins will be able to help him with the sewing and gluing ‘til he gets real good on his own. Brings a crooked smile to his face as well.

[geminialchemist]

I made this originally as a comment on a post on Reddit, but it seemed well liked, so I thought I’d expand on it a little and make it a post here on Tumblr.

Spoilers for Shadow of the Erdtree abound, don’t read any farther if you don’t want the ending spoiled.

I really loved a lot of the lore about Miquella up until the big reveal that he Miquellested Mohg, and was bringing back Radahn as his consort. I remember finding the crosses across the land, and then finding the one in the fissure, and seeing that he abandoned his love there, and man, that was so good, so chilling to see that Miquella, known for his compassion and kindness, had thrown that away. We were going from cross to cross, learning just how much he was willing to mutilate and change himself for godhood… only for him to cling to a childhood crush he had on his older brother. That’s lame. Like, really lame. And gross!

And Mohg. I know we joke about how he beat the allegations, but remember that he needed to wed an Empyrean for his plans to work out with the Formless Mother. These plans he already had in place before Miquella charmed him, since Sir Ansbach was already a Pureblood Knight working under Mohg before Mohg was charmed, meaning Mohg had already established the foundations of his dynasty. That means Mohg was going to go after either Miquella or Malenia, since they were the only Empyreans left, and tell me, which one sounds like the easier target, the small child, or the undefeated champion? Miquella was always going to be taken by Mohg, the retcon just exists to make Miquella look more morally questionable while stripping Mohg of a bit of his agency and villainous identity. The entire Mohg portion feels like a rewrite when the entire reason he was charmed by Miquella is because he had some unspecified way into the Shadow Lands, and it’s never really talked about ever again. Mohg’s entire purpose in this plan comes off as an afterthought, with no specifications as to why he was needed, other than a vague “he was needed.” Even the use of his body to resurrect Radahn is unexplained as far as I know, though I headcanon that it’s due to Radahn’s body being too rotted after the centuries of Scarlet Rot infecting it, and they needed a demigod’s body, so Mohg was the only one to use available, but it would have been nice if that had been explained.

Godwyn would have been better as a final boss, and it didn’t even need to be actually Godwyn to work, since I know some people don’t think that would work from a lore perspective since his souls is gone, and his full return would wreck the Duskborn ending. Of course, “gone” is weird way to put it, since his soul isn’t destroyed, it’s in whatever afterlife exists in Elden Ring, and just not being reincarnated like everyone else who dies after the rune of Death was removed, so Miquella could maybe work a way to get him back. The DLC is in the Shadow Lands, where all things that die pass through, after all. Get rid of Mohg being brainwashed, but keep his body being used so that Sir Ansbach, one of the best NPCs, still has a quest to follow in putting Mohg’s body to a proper rest. It also makes sense, Godwyn’s body is really messed up, bloated, and multiplying all over the Lands Between like a cancer, and can’t be used for ressurection.

Still, I think a failed Godwyn would be better. Maybe we skip the whole Promised Consort part, and just have it be the first act of Godhood Miquella does, because ew, am I tired of the incest surrounding Miqella’s character. Godwyn The Golden starts the fight off back in his prime, doing loads of attacks infused with Holy damage, coming off as the perfect and powerful Demi-god he’s always stated as being in the lore. Then he starts falling apart at phase 2, his phase 1 attacks being switched to being ghostflame infused rather than holy, Miquella now on his back and any new attacks added to phase 2 take on the holy affinity due to his presence. Then phase 3 hits, no holy infinity at all, all attacks do ghostflame or deathblight buildup. Deathblight is already so underused, so it would be great here. Godwyn is falling apart faster the more we fight, and Miquella, holding on, is getting hurt by the ghostflame and deathblight while desperately trying to keep his beloved brother together.

Have the fight set during an eclipse, too, sorta like the final boss of Dark Souls 3, the Soul of Cinder. Really tie it into the lore of Miquella trying to bring Godwyn back, like we find out at Castle Sol, where he had hoped to use an eclispe. I’d even say to make the light from behind the eclipse change color as the fight rages on, starting off bright and holy, and change it to the horrid dark grey and sickly yellow that deathblight has by the third phase, so rather than the arena getting brighter than a flash bang like it is in canon, have it get darker and gloomier. And of course, after the fight, the eclipse has faded entirely.

Instead of a cutscene that is nothing but information we already know(Seriously, what was even the point of the cutscene we got? It gave us not a single piece of new information), Miquella is lying on the floor, mostly dead, much like Morgott after we beat him in Leyndell. He isn’t dying because of us(honestly, I don’t even know why he died in the DLC, he’s so high up on Radahn’s back we never really get a chance to hit him directly, but he dies when Radahn does for whatever reason), instead he’s dying from clinging so tightly to Godwyn and trying to hold him together, burned by ghostflame and deathblight. He laments that even as a god, he wasn’t able to fix anything. Not his sister, not his brother, not the Haligtree, none of his plans ever work. No matter the sacrifices, personal or otherwise. He’s a failure in every way, and the knowledge breaks him as he sobs and dies.

However, if you visited every cross before the boss fight, you can absorb the essence of Miquella’s discarded body, and if you beat him then, you’ll get the option to return his discarded flesh and emotions after the fight. Doing so heals him, and gives him back everything he discarded, like his love, his fears and doubts. He fades away into light particles, and if you sit at the grace in the arena, he’ll appear like Melina does, sitting across from you and with a healed character model. This gets a few bits more dialogue, some exposition, yadda yadda. He’s a god without a consort, you’re a lord without a throne. He’s unsure, and not confident it will work, but maybe if you work together, something good can come of this tragedy? Giving up now would just be spiting in the faces of everyone he’s hurt. You’re strong enough to stop him if he loses his way again. (I think the reason he chose Radahn in canon was because of his strength and kindness? He trusted Radahn to do what was right after he threw away his love and compassion, entrusting Radahn to lead him down the right path when he lacked those things, and to be strong enough to resist his charm. That’s again entirely headcanon due to our lack of knowledge about their vow, but I’m adding it here because this is MY fanfiction and I can do whatever I like!)

(This part is more of a personal bit I’d have liked added because I find it amusing, rather than because I think it would make it better. Remember when you go through all that trouble to find Fia, and she asks if you’ve come all this way to kill her, and you can just say “No, I want to be held,” and it’s the funniest chunk of text you get in game? I really wanted something like that with Miquella. He wants to know why you came all this way, entered the Shadow Lands, a sealed off region of the world where only death awaits, where you fought against insurmountable odds, all to get to Miquella, presumably to stop him, only to heal him at the last moment, in which you can straight up tell him to his face you want to be his consort, and he’s just as confused and amused as Fia was. He knows you aren’t under his charm, but still he questions if it’s possible you are if you went this far just for that.)

This unlocks a new ending for the base game, the Age of Compassion. You summon Miquella like you would Ranni after beating Elden Beast, and together you usher in a kinder world, this time without the brainwashing. Or maybe with the brainwashing. Or perhaps it’s vague about the brainwashing, and if this is a good or bad ending in classic Fromsoft fashion. I’d prefer no brainwashing, and Miquella still unsure if things will work out, with it ending ambiguous if the Age of Compassion lasts, or fumbles and falls to a world blind to it. All you and Miquella can do is hope it will be better.

That might be a lot to ask, but look, it’s the only way I’ll ever get to live out my fantasy of being fought over by a cold, goth witch gf and a soft femboy twink with hair longer than I am tall, okay?

[anonymousfandommurmurs]

sorry if you’ve already spoken about this but there’s this huge paul and daisy account that is literally everywhere that is so disrespectful to p+d and the people close to them yet i never see anyone mentioning it ??? i’m definitely jealous there aren’t loads of accounts dedicated to paul and andrew as well but i’ve never seen any of us disrespect their real lives, family members, partners etc. nothing new from #those fans that account In particular just irritates me. if you know you know lol

If it's on Twitter I know the one.

I don't want to shit on anyone's ships, I know I have my weird niche on here that some people won't like (I know one Andrew-related Tumblr has me blocked).

Yeah, I try to be respectful of them. They are real people, and I think we sometimes touch on kind of complicated subjects as well. It's a hard balance to get. The only thing I get frustrated with is the trying to out people or being annoyed people aren't out.

I just wish I saw what they see with Daisy and Paul. I just don't get any romance there off-screen, especially when you see how he was with Phoebe and later Andrew. They seem good friends who care about each other, but people need to embrace platonic male/female friendship.

[fictionadventurer]

That C.S. Lewis quote about being "old enough for fairy tales again" is really popular in this section of tumblr, but I think I've hit an opposite stage where I'm old enough for realism again. As a teenager in English class, realism seemed like the boring, baseline option that limited your imagination to only the dullest parts of daily life. If I wanted real life, I'd just live it! Stories should give us something bigger and brighter and more exciting!

But as I get older, I'm starting to understand that realism isn't about limiting yourself to the real world, it's about appreciating it. It's about noticing and caring about those tiny details in life. It's about looking at the seemingly ordinary and unexciting people and saying that their stories are worth telling, too. There's a beauty in gazing upon this world in delicate detail and drawing out those fine shades of nuance that you don't notice in the bustle of actually living life. Realism lets you slow down and recognize that our world has wonders, too, and they don't all have to be big and flashy to be worth our attention.

Younger me also got the impression that realism was depressing--we don't get happy endings because they're not realistic. And it's true that realism has a greater share of sad endings, but that can be a comfort. As you grow up, you have more and more experiences tell you that the happiness of life is buried in a lot of murkier emotions--a lot of turmoil and uncertainty and bad decisions--and realism says that's okay. The story's worth telling even if it doesn't end well, even if people don't rise above their baser natures, even if things are a bit dull. Realism can be happier, in some ways, than those bigger, brighter genre stories, because it acknowledges those murkier imperfections of life and says that they don't erase happiness or make someone's story not worth telling.

Lewis' quote is great, but it's not the whole story. Like Chesterton says, children are fascinated by fairy tales, but the youngest children are fascinated by reality--"A child of seven is excited to hear that Tommy opened a door and found a dragon, while a child of three is excited to hear that Tommy opened a door." Fantasy is a fantastic escape, but like all travel, the point of it is to make us see our own world more clearly when we return home. And that's where realism comes in. Those types of stories aren't about casting off childish fancy and focusing on the grim details of adulthood--they can be about regaining an even more innocent and child-like wonder.

[an-theduckin]

Wait shit people might actually care about me

[dmclemblems]

u know it’s bonkers when u live in a world where count gloucester was right all along

[arttheclown]

also while i’m on the topic of catscratch. i know only like. a very small handful of friends will know what i’m rambling about but i rewatched the katilda eps and oh my god i didn’t realize it as a kid but she and blik had like. negative chemistry 💀 their personalities just do Not mesh at all and as sad as i am that the show was cancelled so early im kinda glad we never saw that relationship come into fruition LOL

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

prev. | next

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

[coco-loco-nut]

Gen Z

pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

summary: everyone seems to forget that Max is 26

a/n: not my favorite, but it’s something i’ve been working on for a while there will be no part two

requests open masterlist

—————

Breaking up with Kelly was extremely difficult for Max to do. Despite not being in love with her anymore, he was very aware of what would happen to P. Max knew it was better to break up than stay just because of P, so he bit the bullet. The next few months were lonely, having to readjust to being alone in Monaco with just his cats.

That’s when you came barreling into his life. Only two years younger than Max, you were a breath of fresh air for him. He really didn’t expect to fall for you, not so quick anyway.

You knew a bit about Formula One, but it was more to the extent that your home hosted a race, some drivers lived in the city, and your hairdresser’s son was a driver. It didn’t phase you when Max told you about his career and fame, you just thought the Dutchman was cute.

“Men who own cats are major green flags,” you told him over text when you first started dating. That might’ve been what really made Max fall for you. You made him feel young, understandably so. He was 19 when he first met Kelly, and she was 28.

Max taught you about the races, you helped him connect with his inner Gen Z. He taught you Dutch and how to game, you taught him slang and pop culture. The two of you were sitting on the couch a month before the Monaco GP, watching Cars of course, when Max asked you to join him at the race.

“Of course, anything for Lightning McQueen,” you squeeze his hand. You knew from TikTok that Charles, your boyfriend’s work husband, was Lightning McQueen, but how could that not be Max.

“Kachow,” Max says causing you to laugh. He has been watching the TikToks and reels you send him, usually something formula one or cars related.

Max is watching Cars 2 with you when he points out each driver in the movie. You store the knowledge in the back of your mind for when you watch classic races and Max explains things to you. You feel sufficiently ready for Monaco.

“Lewis, this is my girlfriend, Y/n,” Max introduces you to the Mercedes driver. You look at him, star stuck.

“I loved you in Cars,” you blurt out, causing Lewis to laugh and Max to hide his face in embarrassment. Max isn’t surprised, but he can’t believe this is how your first interaction is going. Lewis is just happy you aren’t with Max because he is a driver.

“Thank you, how old are you?” Lewis asks, ready to feel old.

“24, two years younger than Maxie,” you smile lovingly at your boyfriend.

“I forgot how young you actually are,” Lewis’s unspoken words hang in the air between him and Max. Now that you are dating someone closer to your own age.

Lewis’s statement seemed to be the general consensus when everyone saw you with him. Max looked and acted like he was 26. He was using slang you taught him, he was making pop culture references that he likely wouldn’t have known otherwise. He was getting to experience his twenty’s like he should have been, not as if he was much older than he was.

Lando was the most excited to meet you, not only were you his age, but you brought out Max’s inner child that Lando never could.

“I’m stealing your girlfriend,” Lando tells Max, wanting to claim you as his best friend.

“No,” Max deadpans.

“What if Lando is my bestie?” you ask Max, who can’t say no to you.

“Then I guess that’s okay,” Max kisses your temple.

“OMG, McLaren is doing another hide and seek video, you two should join,” Lando proposes.

“That actually sounds fun,” Max says, looking at you for confirmation.

“I’m in,” you smile, letting Lando lead the way.

The video is a hit, the fans are loving this version of Max. Max is loving this version of him too, for once he doesn’t feel like he has to grow up faster than he should.

“Stay away from her, she’s no good for you. Act like a grown up,” you overhear Jos tell Max as you come back to the garage from hospitality. You have yet to meet Jos, Max made it very clear that he doesn’t want you near his dad. The memes the two of you send back and forth are a good enough reason why, so you hang back.

“What do you mean? I am. I’m 26, why should I act like I’m 40? I am happier with her than I was with Kelly,” Max argues back, you hold yourself back.

“World Champions are serious, mature. Quit acting like Lando Norris and more like an adult,” Jos is seething.

“Ask Max to come back here, say the team needs him or something,” you as an engineer when you notice Jos getting angrier.

“Then why am I leading by a heavy margin already. You just can’t handle that I am putting myself first. What would you even know about being a champion? You never won a race!” Max yells. The engineer quickly cuts in and leads Max to you.

“You gagged him, baby. Are you okay?” Max hugs you, you just rub his back as he regulates his breathing.

“He’s an opp, for real,” Max mutters into your shoulder, causing you to snort with laughter.

“God, I love you,” you can’t contain the laughter. Max joins in, your smile is infectious.

“I did use it right, no?” Max asks between the laughter.

“You did, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you take a deep breath, calming down.

“No cap?”

“Alright, you are using too much. Where is old man Max, this is freaky,” you take a step back, the smile that remains on your face betrays your words.

“You got me into my gen z era, you get the consequences,” Max pulls you back into him as you groan in annoyance.

“I love you too,” he laughs, peppering your face with kisses.

And when a journalist is brave enough to ask about the shift in Max? He’s always eager to talk about you.

“My girlfriend forced me to watch hours of YouTube compilations about formula one memes. We are always sending different memes to each other, she definitely helps me remember to laugh more,” Max gushes.

“I guess we all forget that you aren’t nearly forty,” the journalist nods. Max answers a few more questions before finding you in his drivers room. He lays down on the couch, his head on your lap.

“What’s on your mind?” you run your hand through Max’s hair.

“Have I changed that much?” he asks, his blue eyes looking up at you.

“I don’t think so, I think you’ve just started being yourself around more people. You are still the same Max that I first met and fell in love with, everyone else is just seeing that Max,” you are confused about the question, but answer him. Max doesn’t reply, he just nuzzles closer to you.

“I like this version of me,” he says into your shirt a few minutes later, you keep playing with his hair.

“I’m glad, but I like every version of you, Max. Even old man Max,” you smile as he sits up.

“Old man? How about I show you how far from true that is,” there is a look in his eye that tells you that you just started something.

“And how will you do that?” you decide to entertain him as he slips his hands under your shirt.

“I don’t think I need to tell you.”

[zhongrin]

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[teamatsumu]

purple and pink. (rafayel x reader)

summary: you and rafayel cover yourselves in paint and (redacted).

word count: 3450

warnings: porn without plot, smut, swearing, nsfw, mdni, fem!reader

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

a/n: my brain is rotting for this man so this is just self indulgent crap atp

You weren’t exactly an artistic person.

You just never indulged in art before. Of course, you admired the craft and thought it was extremely difficult to actually create meaningful art. But you didn’t think you were a particularly creative person, nor did you think you had an eye for such stuff.

Ever since you began dating Rafayel, you would say your appreciation for art had definitely improved. How could it not, considering he spent all day creating it, and in the time he wasn’t, his world was still colored by the lens of it. Rafayel saw art everywhere he went, in the gentle roll of the water where it rippled in fountains, or the timid but pinpoint light of a lone star in a dark sky. He loved describing it to you, and the way he put it would make you look around twice. He had really changed the way you viewed the world.

What you were about to do now wasn’t exactly the kind of art that made you think deeply of the universe, but hey, not all art can make you question your existence. Sometimes you need to create….. lighter pieces.

Stepping back, you stared down at the bed sheet sized canvas you had stuck to the floor, sure that you had used enough adhesive to keep it temporarily in place. The clock on the far wall of the studio told you that Rafayel would be home in a little while, which meant you needed to start the next phase of your plan shortly. But first things first, you needed lighter clothes.

After you had switched your jeans and button down shirt for a thin, short robe, you began pulling down buckets of paint from the storage closet connecting to the main studio. You chose only two, a light purple and a light pink. Both colors you knew Rafayel liked using in his pieces. You might not know a whole lot about art, but you knew him inside out. And you also knew he would love this idea.

You spent the next few minutes going over the canvas with the two buckets, pouring a few globs of paint over it. Small, but dense, with lots of blank canvas around them so they could be spread. You decided to only do two or three globs of each color. After all, wasn’t the art in how the colors would move and slide on the canvas? This should be enough paint for that purpose.

Your face was heating up at the thought of what was about to happen, and you felt almost giddy. When was he going to be home? You couldn’t wait to get started.

As if on cue, the door of the studio clicked open, not making a single sound as your boyfriend lumbered in, closing the door behind him. His white shirt was loose, black pants tight, and you couldn’t help but admire his ass when he turned around to shut the door with a light snap.

“Hey-” He stopped almost immediately upon seeing you, eyeing the half empty paint can you were setting down and the flimsy robe covering your body. A body that was definitely naked under it.

“What are you doing?” You saw his eyes flick over you and then behind to eye the massive canvas you had laid out, along with the little circles of paint looking fresh and shiny on it. You gave him a grin.

“I was hoping we could collaborate for your next piece.” You tugged at his shirt until you both stood closer to the canvas, taking special joy in how confused he looked. His eyes kept darting all over the place to try and make sense of what was going on, and you had to stifle a giggle.

You thought to elaborate on your suggestion by slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Rafayel raised his eyebrows but didn’t stop you, probably curious to see what you were cooking. You tugged his shirt off his toned shoulders, before going to work on his pants. His hand finally seized yours, tilting his head so your eyes would meet his.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His tone was amused. You hummed almost in thought, pulling your hand away. You tugged on the belt of your robe until it slipped free, and the front fell open. You saw the tips of Rafayel’s ears turn red, and his expression blanked a bit.

“You have paint. You have a canvas. And you have me.” Your voice was a low whisper. You reached into the bucket next to you, palms stretched, until they were both covered in paint. Then you reached one hand up and dragged your fingertips over his bare abs.

The cool paint made them contract a bit, and you heard the way his breath hitched under the touch. Four long streaks of pink now stood out against his pale skin. Finally, you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face inches from yours.

Rafayel’s blush had extended from his ears down to his neck, but the corner of his lip twitched up into a slow grin. His hands were eager as he undid the button of his pants, and you felt a thrill run up your spine. You watched him undress quickly. He was slow, smooth, as he lifted one precise hand to tug on the shoulder of your loose robe until it was falling off your shoulders and pooling at your feet.

He looked around and his eyes caught the second can of paint. Purple. He dipped his hands into it, and you watched him walk back over to you.

“Where did you get this idea, baby?” His voice had lost its confusion, coated in honey now, sultry and low, nearly a whisper, and you shivered when his breath hit your bare neck. He took advantage of the fact that your hair was pulled up and away from your shoulders, tracing gentle lips over the slope of your shoulder. Instinctively, your hands smoothed over his torso, and you were reminded of the paint on them, still wet, now swiped onto the man before you.

Rafayel hummed at the feeling and proceeded to return the favor, his hands set on your hips. The paint was cool on your skin, and you almost jumped at the temperature if it weren’t for his warm hands taking the feeling away in the next second. Your boyfriend gave your naked bodies a gentle tug backwards until you were stepping on paper, slight crinkling noises hitting your ears.

Gentle lips now made contact with yours, and you sighed in relief. You had missed this, just the feeling of him kissing you. You had been thinking about it- and other things- all day, and you were so excited to start. Hands caressed over each other slowly but eagerly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how much paint you had managed to get on each other.

Your kisses became more hurried, more firm, and you could feel Rafayel’s body temperature rise a bit. His breath stuttered when you moaned into his mouth, tongues dancing together in a synchronized battle. He nibbled at your bottom lip and you arched deeply into him, nails digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, the paint is drying.” You managed to gasp out when your lips separated, his mouth finding the skin behind your ear immediately. He sucked hard on it, until you shivered and let out a long, shaky breath. Your knees were so weak, and you were glad for his strong arms wrapped around your waist, since it was the only thing currently holding you up.

He hummed against your skin, not letting up on the marks he was marring it with. You had discovered pretty early on that Rafayel was a biter, and marks on your skin was another way he created art. It just so happened that you enjoyed the feeling more than you could ever think to describe.

“Good thing you laid more out for us then.” He responded, referring to the globs just below your feet, before tugging you down until you were sprawled on the canvas below you. It was cool under your skin, and you felt something wet just under your shoulder. Oh. Your eyes met Rafayel’s before they finally traveled down his body for the first time since you two had started. You gulped in a deep breath.

His pale skin was covered in purple and pink streaks, like smooth color streaked over brilliant porcelain. The ridges and bumps of his muscles stood out even more under the paint, and you could tell in a few places the exact route your hands had taken, pink running over his waist and down his V-line. The remnants of the journey your fingers took stood before you, proud on his skin. You felt a thrill run through you at the sight, something stirred in your core.

“This is turning you on.” Rafayel observed, a light smirk resting on his face. You felt your body burn at the teasing lilt of his voice.

“As if this isn’t something you’ve dreamed of doing.” You retaliated, opening your legs so he could fit himself between them, resting his elbows on either side of you so your faces were a hairbreadth away. He hummed and sighed, lowering his body until his erection grazed right over your center, making you gasp.

“Believe me, I’ve dreamed of this.” He sighed, reached for the paint to the left and just above your head. You watched him cover his palm with it before he reached down, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up until it folded against your torso. The paint was wet on your skin, and you were learning to love the feeling more and more. His cock prodded your entrance, now on full display for him. He gave you another mischievous smirk.

“Baby I’m about to ruin you so bad.”

The first slide of him inside you had you crying out and arching into him, his cock carving its way through your unprepped hole and bringing with it a burn so delicious it made your head spin. When he bottomed out, he moaned unabashedly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell of it and sending shivers through your spine. Your core clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to adjust to the glorious intrusion. Your brain screamed at him to move, to slide in and out, do anything at all. You needed to feel him rock into you. Your hips twitched and jerked, making your boyfriend moan before he finally started moving.

His thrusts started out languid, smooth, gliding in and out of you at a reasonable pace. You sighed, head leaned back and reveling in the feeling it brought, leg tensing under his grip. Little tendrils of pleasure zipped up from where you were connected, heavy cock stretching you open until your pussy was adequately wet, ready to take the pounding you knew was inevitably coming your way.

And oh, did you receive it.

Slowly, steadily, Rafayel picked up the pace until his hips were smacking hard into your pelvis, knocking every breath from your lungs. You cried out, one arm thrown over his shoulder while the other seeked desperate purchase under you, used to the feeling of silk sheets but now met with nothing but smooth, stretched out canvas and the wet sensation of sticky color. Rafayel used the grip he had on your knee to twist your leg out further, inviting him to hit that one spot that made you see stars. A broken wail left your mouth and your back arched impossibly high, hearing a low moan hit your ear when you clenched tight around the cock pounding into you.

“F-fuck, Rafi-” His head lifted, just enough to connect your lips in a desperate slurry of rushed kisses, sucking and biting on your lips as his pace didn’t so much as stutter. Your moans dissolved straight into his mouth, little pornographic ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s slipping out with every thrust. You didn’t bother muffling them, knowing exactly what the noises did for Rafayel’s ego, and with how he was ravishing you currently, you were okay with giving him a little ego boost.

(You would deal with the consequences of that later.)

“Gonna cum-” You managed to choke out just as your orgasm rammed into you with no warning, effectively silencing any other words as you cried and shook through it, muscles seized tight and legs kicking in the air.

“God- fuck,” Rafayel’s first words. “There you go. Fuck, that’s it.”

He fucked you through the last vestiges of your high before his arms slipped under your arched waist and lifted you up, rolling over until you were perched on his hips, throbbing cock still nestled inside you. The change in position made him slide in deeper, and you let out a broken moan. Your orgasm was still lingering around the edges, encouraging you to prolong the feeling, to chase after it again. And so you did. You rolled your hips, placing your hands on Rafayel’s abs as leverage to push your body up and down. You finally took a good look at your boyfriend.

His chest was heaving with exertion, shining under the glow of the lights above you, catching on the swirling mixes of purple and pink. Under the paint, his skin glistened with sweat, tensing and straining under his movements. The paint had reached all the way up the side of his neck, and even into his hair, blending with the purple tresses. The purple complimented his eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, his lip was tucked under his teeth.

He was a vision.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was fractured and strained, and in your staring you had forgotten that you were also the object of his gaze. You couldn’t imagine how you looked right now, slathered with paint and hot under the stimulation you were receiving, strands of hair leaving your bun and trailing down over your face and neck. You rolled your hips and tightened hard around his cock, watching the way his jaw slackened and eyes rolled shut. Another zip of pleasure ran through you, and you couldn’t help but keen, pushing yourself to go faster, to make him feel even better.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You could feel your vision swim, tears gathering in your lash line as his cock dug deep into your core, prodding into your spongy walls in all the right ways. Rafayel grabbed both your wrists off his chest, pulling them behind your back and then tugging you down until your body was pinned tight against his. You let him do as he pleased, planting his feet on the canvas before he started thrusting hard and fast up into your sopping cunt.

You screamed and arched, body tensing at the pace he set, chin resting on his shoulder and head thrown back as you let him carry you face first into another orgasm, gushing around him until the sounds of his thrusts grew impossibly wetter, sloppier than the paint around you and covering you, blabbering incoherent phrases and curses as tears poured from your eyes. With every thrust, the ecstasy prolonged itself, like an endless high that came with intense drugs, except all you needed was him, and he would get you there if it was the last thing he did.

Your perspective was shifting, Rafayel’s cock leaving you until you felt cold and empty. He maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, or rather, arms and knees since you felt that you couldn’t even hold yourself up at this point. A firm hand pushed on your back until it arched to his liking, spreading you until he could slide his massive length back into you with little to no resistance. You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling unhindered in your head, cheek smushed into the paper beneath you. Briefly, you felt like you could almost taste the paint, but the thought left your brain faster than cigarette smoke dissipating on a windy day when Rafayel started moving again.

“Stop me if you can’t take it.”

You could never, would never stop him, not when your pussy keened at the feeling of his cock filling you up to fulfillment once more. Especially not when he planted a foot on your side that gave him leverage to thrust harder and stronger into you. Your body buzzed and reveled under the feeling of being used like this, basking in the sounds coming from Rafayel getting heavier and choppier as he finally chased his own orgasm instead of yours. You wanted nothing more than for him to warm you up, fill you with his seed until you couldn’t take any more of it. Your depraved mind was wiped blank of everything else except that crushing need.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whine, clenching hard around him. Rafayel moaned and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m cumming baby, take it, take it, take it, take it-” Your body jostled at the strength of his thrusts, once, twice, and then he was slamming his cock deep into you and holding it there, hot spurts of cum hitting your walls. Painting your insides white like your bodies had painted your outsides purple and pink.

Your entire body collapsed on itself when Rafayel pulled out, dropping onto the paper heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Your vision was swimming and so was your head, unable to do anything but focus on the faint buzz in your muscles. You could hear shuffling somewhere behind you before you were being lifted into strong arms. You sighed and curled into them, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend after the beating your body just took. And he was happy to provide it- in the tub he ran for you while both of you settled into warm water.

You dozed in and out of sleep as Rafayel cleaned you up, giggling and humming along with whatever little anecdotes he was telling you. He knew you would barely remember most of it later, considering how dopey and spacey you got after sex. You pouted and leaned up to him every few minutes, stealing tiny kisses from his lips. And afterwards, you let him pat you dry and put you to bed in the usual “princess treatment” he gave you after one of your sessions. The only time he backed off from teasing you relentlessly and instead doted on you properly.

You couldn’t tell how long you slept, but you woke up feeling well rested. The bed next to you was empty but still slightly warm, and you could hear quiet shuffling outside in the studio.

Your muscles screamed when you forced them to move, your hips and thighs feeling like particular sore spots. You ignored the feeling in favor of pulling a shirt off the floor to throw over your body, realizing it was your boyfriend’s when it fell all the way to your thighs. You trudged out of the room while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You saw him standing with his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The muscles of his bare back shifted as he moved, now clear of all the paint you two had slathered on it. Oh right, the paint.

Your eyes shifted behind him to the canvas, which Rafayel had propped up against the wall now, and was observing silently. You walked closer to admire the streaks of pink and purple on it, watching it carefully. Somehow, the choppy strokes showed your desperation, your passion, and you felt your face heat up at the thought.

“Looks pretty.” Your voice was slightly rough. Rafayel turned around at the sound and gave you a soft smile, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you from behind as you both stared. You settled into his warmth as you swayed gently back and forth.

“Why’re you thinking so hard about it?” You asked.

You turned your head to watch as he huffed and pouted a bit. He looked so cute, you bit back the urge to squish his cheeks.

“Pretty sure there’s some cum in there somewhere.”

Aaaaaand the urge was gone.

You smacked his chest hard, making him jerk back and laugh, but not releasing his hold on you.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not more than you.”

He kissed you before you could land another smack, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. You fought to keep a grin down, but failed when you felt his lips stretch with a smile of his own, erupting into giggles.

[yoichls]

c’mon baby, just a quick fuck!

⋆.˚ NSFW . wc. 919. timeskip ! ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 、 size k!nk 、 mentions of breedin’ 、established relationships ( marriage ) 、 big dick ! toshi . . . x-x ! — 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑰 : “ sillie lil’ thirst, celebration for mai haikyuu phase comin’ back tew haunt me . .”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI is somebody who never paid much attention to intimacy . . . it wasn’t his thing, really. but with you . . his wife? he was willing to give you whatever you wanted. intimacy . . sexual or not with him is well thought of, you know your husband can be a little awkward sometimes . . but it’s not his fault. his large hands trailing downward towards the hem of your panties, his fingers curling inside your walls to ease your stress from time to time, he knew your body well. amidst his calm and collected demeanour, who would’ve known that . . ushijima wakatoshi himself would be the naughty type.

he couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t. those eyes of his, staring at you with both lust and love. he couldn’t count how many times he’d stare down at you and notice how big he was compared to you. during his games . . even when you stood in-front of him, he had the urge to grab at that pretty waist of yours, take you right then and there. he felt like a pervert, lusting over your height and size differences . . . wonderin’ how much of his cock you can handle. would it fit? would you be able to take it? he wondered how much cum would leak from your pretty pussy onto the soft sheets . . how pretty you’d look sprawled out on the bed, taking his length. he didn’t know the answer of those questions . . . but he was determined to find out himself. he was slowly losing himself day by day and it was all clear to you.

tonight, you saw a different side to him . . . a side you knew existed, but you never knew he would reveal it to you so soon. he wanted an answer to all those questions that lingered in his head so naughtily, he demanded answers. the feeling of your pussy gripping onto him for dear life sends shivers down his spine, ushijima’s heart raced . . . his breath hitching for a moment. when he feels you arch up against him, he grabs onto the waistband of your skirt and jerks you back against him harder, slamming himself deeper into you with each thrust. “fuck, fuck, fuck . . ." your husband growls, letting his bare chest brush against your back with each movement. ushijima was getting closer now, his muscles tense. he can feel his release building up inside him, threatening to burst and it hasn’t even been thirty minutes yet. “i . . . apologize, i can’t hold myself back anymore. . . ”

“fuck, ‘toshi your cock’s t—too big f’me !” you whined . . . your breathing grew heavy, your heart pounding against your chest. you stared right into his eyes, the fire in them matching your own. ushijima refused to put a stop to his thrusts . . . he didn’t stop, not even a second, that's how much he needed you. he’s not done with you yet. he smirked, panting heavily. as he pulled out, he took a few seconds to admire the drops of his cum leak out of you. he knew his cock was such a ridiculous size, but he loved how much it drove you wild. ushijima was even aware how intimidating his size could be, but his pretty little wife seemed to be handling it perfectly. the way you took him, accepting his roughness . . . your breasts bouncing from the harshness of his thrusts made his heart swell.

“you’ve got it, baby," he assured, positioning himself between your legs once more, easing the tip of his cock against your entrance, before slamming himself back inside . . . a grunt leaving his throat. “you can take it, sweet girl. i know you can.” ushijima bottomed out, letting out a contented groan . . . his hands gripping your hips tightly, savoring the velvety warmth enveloping him. “see how perfect you fit around me? it slid right in." he whispered, leaning down to nibble on her earlobe. your husband’s thrusts grew deeper and impatient, his cock sliding in and out of your wetness, whispering dirty nothings into your ear. the warm room was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, his balls slapping against your ass every second, he was getting impatient . . . he wanted to cum once more, knock you up . . . give you a baby tonight. fuck, he’d like that.

ushijima’s breaths grew heavier, his hips slamming against your ass, driving into you with reckless abandon . . . he couldn’t help but growl as he felt another orgasm building. drool slipped from your mouth, your mind was completely out of it . . . hazy and filled with his cock. “s—so big, ‘toshi . . . so fuckin’ big.” ushijima chuckled, the sound was a mix of amusement and pride. "mmhm . . . but you’re taking me well, you don’t have to worry." he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leaned in, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that mirrored his own. your bodies collided, the fire within your husband beginning to burn brighter, threatening to consume you both.

“let me hear you.” he panted, his voice thick with need. his fingers dug into your hips, the strength in his grasp a promise of the power he held over your smaller frame. shit, he really did love how small you were. “i want you to take all my essence, my love.” his free hand trailed up against your side, fingertips brushing against your breast, teasing the sensitive nipple through the thin fabric of your top. "i want to try making you a mother . . . fill you up ‘till you’re all full. you wouldn’t mind that . . . would you, baby?

© 𝒀𝑶𝑰𝑪𝑯𝑳𝑺 / 𝟔𝑮𝑼𝑴𝑰 2024. modifying 、translating 、sharing my works on other platforms 、or considering them as yours is strictly prohibited.

[bunnis-monsters]

Dragon hybrid bf really confused as to why he's been more irritated by things and suuuuper protective of his mate (like he's usually at a consistent 10 but it's up to 15 now) only to realize she's suuuper pregnant and they’re both excited about it (in the cute way or nsfw way whatever flows your boat :> hehe)

You huffed in annoyance as your dragon hybrid!bf pulled you closer and away from the shopkeeper you were having a conversation with.

He had been doing this every time a male spoke to you for more than a few seconds, unable to stand you being near someone that may take you away from him.

‘As if anyone would even try…’ you thought to yourself, glancing to your nearly 7 ft boyfriend, with horns, partially scaly skin, and bulging muscles.

He didn’t seem to care though, viewing every male as a threat, rubbing his scent in you constantly and purring softly when you arrived home, ready for some snuggling and cockwarming.

It’s like he couldn’t live without your pussy clenching his cock, and he was being uncharacteristically gentle with you.

He was never too rough or anything, but recently he barely bounced you on his cock without yelping out in fear that he had somehow hurt his precious mate.

Despite being annoyed, you put up with it, figuring he was either going into rut or in some kind of dragon hybrid phase where his emotions were out of whack.

As more time passed, his protectiveness and paranoia only worsened to the point he kept you at home, not letting you step a foot outside of his den.

He always had his hands on you, as if you would disappear the second he let you go. The only time he left you alone was to capture prey and defend the den from passing males, besides that he was by your side at all times of the day.

It was early in the morning when he woke up, picking you up and bolting towards the bathroom.

For a moment you had no idea why he was doing this, but a sudden nausea took over you, and he got you to the toilet just in time so you could vomit.

“Ugh…” you groaned out in misery as he wiped your mouth and got your toothbrush ready. “Did I eat something ba-“

You paused, realizing your mate was staring at your with wide eyes, his hands moving to rub over your belly.

“You’re pregnant…”

It was then that everything started to make sense to both of you. He had been so protective over you for the past week or so because he could sense your pregnancy way before you did!

“My love, oh my beautiful mate…”

He purred loudly, pulling you into his arms and rubbing your belly, his tail thumping against the floor. Your mate had never been this happy before to know you had hatchlings growing inside you.

From that second on the smothering became so much more unbearable… but he took amazing care of you. He adored you with his entire heart, and just couldn’t wait to see his children.

And him being eager to fill you with his cum and keep your fat pussy stuffed during your pregnancy definitely helped relieve some stress for you… you always loved his fat cock stretching you out.

———————

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