#kangaroo hospital

[fallout-tactics]

happy 26 birthday fallout 1 ft @this-should-do

[didnt-hear-cold-as-you-live]

Like zoom out and it’s actually fucking PSYCHO, I am better at anyone in the universe at keeping a smile on my face when shits fucked up and just powering through it being “resilient” etc etc etc but like. JESUS dude. Give me a fucking break. It’s just been comedically bad thing after comedically bad thing and it’s RELENTLESS; I feel like I’m being fucking emotionally water boarded and it’s never going to end

[whereimnotme]

Photo taken during climate action protest in Canberra, January 2020, featuring another of ScoMo’s tone deaf quotes - ‘thankfully we’ve had no loss of life’ - from that ill-fated small town PR tour.

"Yes, two, that's quite right. I was thinking about firefighters really," said Morrison, before expressing his "sincere condolences" for the 27 lives lost during the ongoing disaster.

Officially, 33 people were ultimately killed directly by fires that summer with another estimated 445 people dying from smoke inhalation.

Meanwhile the PM fucked off to Hawaii on holiday.

I am still incandescent with rage.

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[ghostzafara]

[slmckangarocare]

Best kangaroo care hospital in KR Puram: slmckangarocare

Hospitals play a crucial role in providing healthcare services, especially specialized care like kangaroo care. In KR Puram, slmckangarocare Hospital stands out for its exceptional kangaroo care services. With a team of skilled medical professionals, the hospital offers personalized and compassionate care to premature infants and their families. Its modern facilities and advanced technology ensure a warm and nurturing environment for both infants and their parents. The hospital's commitment to kangaroo care promotes bonding and development.

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whump Prompts List

I was bored one night and made this to entertain myself. Feel free to use however many of the prompts you want in whatever way you want. (I hear there's a shortage of November events in the community this year, so if you wanted you could use this for that.) I'd love it if you tagged me or linked back to the list, but it's not mandatory. There are no rules and no deadline :)

False sense of security

Stockholm syndrome

Altered state of mind

Avoiding eye contact

Multiple whumpers

Drugged whumpee

Bursting into tears

Tranquilizer dart

Villain caretaker

Misplaced trust

Kangaroo court

Deconditioning

Made a slave

Hospitalized

Behind bars

Side effects

Phone call

Worthless

Cuddling

Euphoria

Inhuman

Breaking

Revenge

Begging

Venom

Brand

Silent

Dizzy

Cold

Trap

"I won't!"

"For me?"

"I'm done."

"Try again."

"Who's this?"

"It still hurts."

“I’ve got you.”

"This isn't real."

"Nobody cares."

“Please, just try.”

“That wasn’t me.”

"What happened?”

“Aren’t you sorry?”

“There’s a good pet.”

“I got you something.”

“I should have known.”

“Them? Are you sure?”

“You’re better like this.”

“You’re doing very well.”

“Please, you’re hurting me!”

“You know better than that.”

“No one would believe that.”

“It’s no wonder they left you.”

“They’re not coming for you.”

“You really don’t remember?”

“You can never be too careful.”

“You really think that will work?”

“This had better be fixed by then.”

“What will it take for that to sink in?”

“We’re the only ones who know what’s really going on here.”

You’re welcome to change pronouns, tweak a word, etc.

[angsthology]

“YOU CAN’T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE” — or an alt title: roo vs. jenson to roo and jenson

from the freezing act and disappearing act to no choice not to act (do i know what i meant? absolutely not.)

a/n yarg hey this is set on 2022 and the rest of 2023, after the events of the great (coming not so soon but im workin on it)

THE KANGAROO VS. THE WORLD

2022

it was her first points. her first points... ever in formula one. she was on… a different kind of high. nothing was going to ruin that moment for her. nothing except one.

as of right now, she was not noticing anything else besides the man in front of her—and even that was debatable.

this time, it was her turn to be catatonic.

daniel, who was one of the blokes lucky enough to witness what was currently happening in front of him could not help but laugh, well, he was putting his entire life into not laughing. but, well, it was hard not to.

he’s—no one, has ever seen her like this before.

she was usually so… either kept to herself or an absolute menace. there was really no in-between. but one for sure thing she always is was functional, even is the function is cracked up to a hundred or zero. so to see her malfunctioning was way funny for daniel.

daniel, still giving his entire life not to laugh, answers the question for her, “of course, she will! right, kid?”

at that, her blubbering stopped and her attention was fixed on the australian—that had betrayed her.

her mind was still reeling in—half present and half out of it, “i—yea—huh?” she looked towards daniel for… anything.

he didn’t respond with anything else and pulled on her race suit that was now unzipped and collecting around her waist down, her top half showing off the crimson-red fireproofs she wore underneath.

her mind was going faster than an rb19 and the next thing she knew she was sitting in the middle of a very fine world champion she was so ready to risk everything for and… and daniel ricciardo.

she was so in her own world, she failed to notice the former calling out her name.

oh my god, he knows my name, she thought.

she cleared her throat, posture changing feigning ‘professionalism’, “what was that?”

“congratulations on scoring your first points today!”

she blinked. she knew what he said. she was just… processing.

truly, she didn’t know how or why it happened or even what had happened at all but she somehow ended up in a finger guns position pointing at her long-time celebrity crush.

she stayed at the end position for quite a while. besides the sound of the track and every other surroundings, it was quiet. jenson was too stunned to speak; roo was berating herself in her head absolutely throwing every curse word in her head—if anyone were to read her mind right now, they would start crying from all the screams and cries of her own stupidity. daniel—now, daniel on the other hand; was having the time of his life. the dam had broken and he was now clutching his stomach besides the girl laughing his ass off.

his—very loud, very distracting—laugh paused her inner turmoil at herself and directed all towards him. her eyes were void of any emotions and her entire look was unpredictable. she narrowed her eyes at the australian before quickly fisting her hand out to hit the man right where he was clutching it, making him grunt in shock and eventually drop to the ground groaning—his laugh somehow still straining behind.

still in pain, from both his laughter and the hit, daniel managed between discomfort, “oh—you’re good, man, you’re good.”

her eyes were still trained down to the rolling australian, giving him her deadliest-calmest glare later on slowly look up to meet jenson’s; completely freezing in her spot once more with eyes wider than max’s winning gap as if his stare was one of medusa’s.

later on, she found herself in the haas—they stopped trying to get rid of her eventually—hospitality with mick sitting on one of the chairs and herself pacing around the room talking his ear off.

“i hate daniel! i hate him! i told him a million times! i never wanted to meet jenson in person! i just wanted a picture! i hate him so much!” she whined, stomping around the room dramatically.

eventually she sat herself down next to mick. not knowing how else to respond, he extended his hand and giving her a few pats on the shoulder.

“you know, he’s probably was very happy to see you too.” he tries.

“don’t.”

he raised both his hands in surrender.

it was an interesting sight to see: britney spears walking and talking with snoopy in the paddocks.

“i just think he’s neat, you know.” she explained with a shrug.

the older man chuckled with a shake of his head, “you do know you’re talking about a cartoon dog, right?”

she gasped, “rude. he is the cartoon dog.” with a hand over her heart, she then continues, “he’s more than that! he’s a pilot, an icon, and most importantly; a best friend.” she paused, remembering a detail she forgot to mention, “—to woodstock. i don’t care about charlie brown, that kid’s an idiot.”

nico made a contemplating face, “you’re so mean to him why—”

she was about to reply until she was cut off by a british accent that made her entire blood run cold and paralyze her nerves, eyes widening slightly—position permanently cemented to the ground where her body jerked to a stop.

“oh, hey, jense!” he greeted back, turning his attention and entire body away to face the blonde getting closer.

to her dismay, he waved the world champion over.

(what is that—what the hell?! I’M SWEATING BULLETS LIKE A FUCKING WATERFALL.)

he was getting closer.

(FUCK!—what do i do?)

closer.

“yeah, i was just here talking to—” nico said as jenson was in easier earshot, his hands already motioning to his side. just as he turned around the moment the brit arrived by his side, he was met with dust. besides that, no other evidence showed there was once a girl in an alfa romeo racing suit next to him. “wha—kid?” he looked around, “where’d she go?”

jenson frowned slightly, “ah. sorry about that, mate. most likely my fault.”

nico turned to him confused, “what?”

he shrugged sadly, “i don’t know. that kid is like allergic to me i think—never got any chance to properly talk to her.”

again nico put his thinking face on and after a good few conversations with himself in his head, his face cracked up with a smile.

he slapped jenson’s back and rest his hand there—shocking him in the process—“believe me, she doesn’t.”

end of 2023

she. was. done.

finally.

this year was definitely not her year and she was glad it was over.

during their final debrief mick was her pillar; she was on her last set of batteries and was about to shut down, the entire time she had her head resting on his shoulder half-asleep. he didn’t complain, thankfully—surprisingly none of her team either.

after they declared dismissed, she was so ready to be hauled—by who, she didn’t really know. but man she wished—back to her bed—did not matter which one but whichever the closest was—and pass out until the next season starts.

unfortunately, it was not that easy yet for her.

the only people left in the room was her, porsche’s team principal, his assistant, her head engineer, and... mikey.

now that she really thinks about it, she doesn’t really know what it is mikey does.

“you look rough.” the man started. “not wearing any makeup today?” he asked genuinely. he knew how much makeup therapy usually improves her mood, which is why it made sense to him seeing her so—gone.

“i am wearing makeup.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

he motioned for her to take a seat, and so she did.

the air was… unreadable. usually it’s pretty light with them, they loved her and she loves them. maybe it was the lack of mick in the room?

she was so tired, she didn’t care for the thick silence in the room, opting to just break it herself.

“am i getting sacked? are you going to make me burn my own contract?”

she was getting dangerous. tired roo means her defense systems are losing charge—if she was a drinker, this would be a glimpse of her in an honest drunk state.

no one really stopped her so her mouth just kept moving, “i mean, i wouldn’t be surprised after the year i had i was kinda shit—i’d be pretty sad, though. i love you guys. i love you,” she looked at her engineer, “i love you,” she looked to her personal trainer, “i love you,” to her team principal. and last but not least, “and i love you.” she looked slightly up at her team principal’s assistant that stood behind him.

“oh good grief, when the hell is he getting here?” the man in the middle whispered under his breath as he rubbed his forehead, in the background the driver still mindlessly listing all the people she loves.

“and i love that guy who always has chocolate for me—oh wait that’s mick again.”

“just got a text from jackie says they’re close.” whispered back mikey.

as if on cue, right after mikey locked his phone, the door opens—thankfully—stopping roo’s listing, catching all of their attentions.

she was still yapping when she turned to the door but came to an abrupt stop when she sees the person who walks in.

the man waved.

“oh no, it’s jenson button.” she says flatly—at this point it was like she was drugged with truth serum; her words held no emotions or feelings whatsoever, but everyone was sure it was all genuine.

she was about to turn back to her team when with no warnings, no wind, no signs, she was hit with a tsunami—not even joking. the moment her head turned her face was splashed with a bucket of cold water.

so. so. cold.

oh that definitely woke her up.

“WHAT THE FU—”

as if she hadn’t had enough thrown at her, a towel was draped over her head before she can finishing cursing out her team. (one, to dry her up and two, to shut her up.)

emerging from under her towel, she looked towards the three culprits’, eyes going from jenson button at the front of the room and back to them, “in front of jenson button?!” she scolded in a whisper.

“it humanizes you,” explained her team principal shortly.

she quieted. sucked in a breath and stare at him flatly, “die.”

mateo—her team principal—was unfazed by it, opting to ignore her comment instead and continue with the business they had originally set up for.

“now that you’re awake,” he started.

“whatever.” she rolled her eyes.

ignoring her, mateo continues, “i’m going to put this in simple words you’ll understand.”

“why do you hate me?”

“i know you don’t like to talk about… whatever the hell this year was, but one thing for sure, we—” he motioned towards himself, mikey, and olivia (her head engineer), “—decided it’d be good for you to have a manager.”

she stayed silent, blinking her thoughts in until she found her words;

“and he is… your best candidate?” she asked stiffly motioning to the british driver that she’s sure can kill her with a stare.

mateo looked anywhere but anyone, slightly dodging the question. he shrugged, “well.”

“seriously?!” commented the world champion. he rolled his eyes and made way to sit on the chair next to hers, slightly making the hair on her arms rise. “look, kid, i know it’s probably going to be hard for you to even be in the same room with me—but i promise, i would not be doing this if i weren’t sure of you. you are one of the best talents i’ve seen in my life and i think i could help you reach a lot more good things.”

she took in his words and she’d be lying if hearing all those things coming out of his mouth didn’t give her a type of sensation—butterflies in her stomach, warmness in her heart, and the burning tears building behind her eyes—and a surge of courageous in her veins.

she smiled, “no, i think you’re right. and, i mean, i’m in the same room as you right now and i’m all fine.”

after that, papers were signed and deals were made, and to her; the rest was history.

(including all her previously embarrassing moments.)

princess (mick) HSAZGFKJSDGS YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE i js died oh my god what did i do

te1enoviyuh 🎵 Simple Minds • Don't You (Forget About Me)

liked by f1porsche, atticusingh, and 4,476,928 others

tagged: jensonbutton

te1enoviyuh mischief not managed zzz

see all 487 comments.

roomcgrittle CONSTABLE REGGIE

buttoncunt JENSON????? kid r u even alive still

dunphyrrari did u fall asleep typing the caption

te1enoviyuh dunphyrrari okay thats funny u deserve a notice

dunphyrrari te1enoviyuh I WON

f1porsche Watch out (the rest of) 2024 they’re coming for you. 😉

selvnika i thought *i* was your manager...

te1enoviyuh selvnika if anything IM your manager. your around the clock arounf the world babysitter

sargeantist selvnika now hold on... back tf UP. WDYM MANAGER??

schupastry sargeantist JUST STAY CALM DO NOT MAKW ANY ASSUMPTIONS.

disneyprincemuke im just here for the ride tbh

bonus

mateo sighs at his phone, his employee no better than before she had management.

“do you ever regret this? ‘cause i do. —kinda.” commented the unlucky woman known as her pr manager (jackie.)

“who thought this was a good idea, again?”

being the self-aware king himself; mikey immediately choked on his water and quickly made his escape.

anyone noticed a cameo? not proofread | taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra @woozarts crossed out means i cant tag u

[msgexymunson]

One Slow Blink Part 2

Second part right here due to Tumblr restrictions

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

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

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

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

Masterlist Part 1

You must have fallen asleep like that, as once your eyes open it looks to be almost night, the sun dipping past the horizon. The light slipping past your makeshift curtain is a deep red. You ache all over, especially your shoulder, but it doesn't stop you from smiling. 

At some point he must have pulled you on top of him, both arms circling you possessively, holding you to his chest like a child's doll. His member has slipped out of you; you can feel the stickiness of his release coating the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. 

Breathing changes as he stirs beneath you, opening his eyes in a squint. 

“Hey you.” 

He murmurs a soft sound from his chest, licking your cheek with his long tongue. 

“Ew! Eddie, you've got dog breath.” 

“Charrrming.” 

You laugh, hitting his chest playfully, shifting above him so you're straddling him.

“We better get cleaned up, I've got to get to the hospital in a few hours.” 

Eddie whines, grabbing your hips as you try to stand, pushing your wet heat against his twitching bulge. 

“Eddie…”

You breathe out in a warning, but it sounds too needy. He's not listening, rubbing you back and forth over his swelling length. 

“Eddie I don't think I can take another round, you were- oh fuck-” 

The sentence falters as he catches your clit, setting a thousand butterflies loose in your tummy. 

“I’ll… be gentle.” 

You hiccup a little laugh, staring down at him with a raised brow. 

“I don't think you can.” 

“Forrr you… I can.” 

You reach out to stroke his fuzzy cheek and he nuzzles into the touch. The affection he shows from that simple gesture has you relenting, guiding his member into you, slipping in easily, his previous sticky release helping its journey. 

Sitting back and allowing yourself to revel in the beautiful stretch, you experience that familiar wash of relief, a calm caressing your very soul. Eddie seems to feel it too, letting out a long breath as his shoulders lose tension. 

“This feels right,” you confess, hand running down his chest, “like, like-” 

His gravelly purr interrupts your spill words, reverberating through your ribcage. 

“Like you… werrre made forrr me, sweet-hearrrt.” 

It's much slower this time, more of a languid grinding as you both move against each other, that undercurrent of need more of a smouldering heat, rather than the unquenchable fire from earlier. Eddie pants as he watches you, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth as you reach your precipice, your eyebrows knotting and body shuddering around him. 

Falling against his form, entirely spent, skin glowing with sweat, you hold onto him as he chases his own release. True to his word, he's much more gentle, gripping your hips and moving you to meet his shallow thrusts. You see his snout scrunch when he's on the brink, just before he pulls you off of him and holds you to his torso. You can feel his cock pumping out his orgasm against your stomach, glueing the pair of you together. 

“Eddie, you didn't need to-” 

“Last time we werrre… stuck togetherrr, for half hourrr.” 

You giggle, astonished at his words. 

“Really? Damn, I must have fell asleep.” 

“You did. Couldn't move. Was… nice.” 

Reaching up to play with the fur on his cheek, you think about what he just said. 

“You know, I think that's knotting. You know, like d-”

“If you say… dogs…” He warns, winding a finger in your hair and tugging gently. 

“Fine. Canines.” 

He grabs you, holding you in place as he slathers your face with his tongue, drooling all over you. 

“Eddie! Yuck, stop, stop!” 

“Thought I was… dog. This is what dogs do… rrrright?” 

You squeal loudly trying to extricate yourself from his hold. 

“OK, OK! You're not a dog! Stop!” 

He finally relents and you get up, unpeeling from the sticky skin and matted fur of his stomach. 

“Right, I'm gonna have a shower before you start humping my leg.” 

He snaps his teeth at you playfully as you leave. When you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you see why your shoulder hurts so much. There's teeth marks in it; pinpricks of broken skin tinged with blood. They aren't deep, but the redness around them looks like it's going to leave a hell of a bruise. For some reason, you're not mad. The opposite in fact. It feels like a claim. You are his, and this is so the world can see. 

Once you're clean and relatively dry, you go into the living area to find some food, throwing on one of Eddie's new t-shirts. It may as well be a dress, the hem kissing your mid thigh. 

Something doesn't feel right though. Suddenly there's a rolling in the pit of your stomach, a sense of impending doom. The light streaming through the partially boarded windows is still an ominous red. Risking a look, you peer out of the slats and see the sky. 

It's flashing red and blue, as if there's an enormous thunderstorm boiling the heavens, but there's no sound. It looks unnatural, colouring the landscape around in the same foreboding hues. You feel hot, and sick. 

Eddie barrels into the room with a towel still around his waist, tackling you to the ground. 

“Eddie, whats-” 

“Stay low… some-thing coming… smells wrrrong.” 

You whisper as quietly as you can.

“What can you smell?” 

He takes a moment, snuffling at the air with his eyes closed. 

“Outside… woods, dirrrt. Frrriends, coming. And… can't ex-plain in worrrds. Sticky… chem-i-cal… pulsing… grrey blue. Wrrrong.” 

You suppose that's what you get for asking a question about something you can't possibly understand, what with the stark differences in your senses. You try a different tact.

“Have you… smelled it before?” 

“Differrrent… but, similarrrr… to up-side-down.” 

There's the shoe that you were waiting to drop. Now the feeling in your gut made sense. 

“Eddie, you said… friends were coming?” 

“Harrrrrington… and Henderrrrson forrr surrre… smell the damn hairrsprrray.” 

In spite of the situation, you giggle. He flashes his teeth, dropping his guard for just an instant. 

There's a powerful knock at the door that makes you jump. Eddie leaps up and flings it open with such force that it slams into the wooden wall sending dust flying. 

You just about make out the figure of a girl with a shaved head and a bloody nose who thrusts an outstretched hand toward Eddie. Dustin's voice rings out behind her. 

“Elle no!” 

There's a strange force, like a gust of wind with no air that buffets around Eddie's snarling form. You feel it pulling you, ripping you backwards as you roll across the floorboards. Eddie seems unaffected, not moving from his spot. 

“Eleven, stop! You think monsters wear pink towels??”  

The girl looks baffled and turns to where Dustin is running forward, waving his arms wildly. Steve is following quickly behind. They both look battered and bruised. As Steve comes into focus you see his entire front is covered in blood. 

Instincts kicking in, you shoulder past Eddie and run toward him. 

“Steve, what happened!” 

“It's alright it's not my blood. Eleven, this is Eddie.” 

Ah, Eleven. It makes more sense now. The powers, the shaved head. 

“Who- is she?” 

Eleven stares at you with a confused expression. You introduce yourself, and explain what you think you are. 

“...I'm, er, Eddie's girlfriend.”

Eleven's eyes widen but she doesn't say anything. Dustin, however, can't possibly stop the words spilling from his mouth. 

“Girlfriend?? Seriously? But-” 

“Henderson, focus! That's not important right now!” 

“I was just asking, Steve!” 

“Well don't we have other stuff we need to-” 

“Hey!” 

Shocked, you realise the shout came from you. 

“Everyone, just calm down and get inside so we can talk, OK?” 

Your words seem to cut through all arguments as everybody makes it inside, standing and looking at you for direction. Attempting to keep the authoritative air you've managed to concoct, you order them to sit down whilst you and Eddie get dressed. 

When you're no longer feeling so exposed, you come back into the living room holding Eddie's hand. 

“Right now, Steve, you first. What the fucks going on?” 

He weirdly looks at Eleven first, who gives a curt nod. 

“Right, right, so, it's a little-” 

Dustin cuts in. 

“-Vecna's back from the Upside Down with his Demogorgons and bats and stuff and they're taking over Hawkins and we need Eddie Dog to help defeat him!” 

Stumbling back a little stunned, your wide eyes search his vainly for the sign of some prank. There is none. 

“So… you're saying there's monsters in Hawkins??”

Steve responds calmly, juxtaposing Dustin’s trembling form.

“ ‘fraid so. Nance and Hopper and everyone else are holed up in the library. Everyone left in the town’s there. Well, everyone who's not dead or ran away.” 

“Wait, so Hopper’s alive??” 

“Yes! He was captured by evil Russians but Mrs Byers got him back and-” 

“Alright, alright,” you hold your palms up to Dustin, “what does Eddie have to do with this?” 

“Listen, Henderson's got this theory that Eddie's… powers… came out so he can stop Vecna.” 

“But that's absurd, he was bitten!” You turn to Eddie but he looks just as shocked as you. 

“Yeah but, we've seen a lot of people today who've been bitten by something. No one else changed.” 

“Exactly,” Dustin says, grinning, “Eddie's got super strength now, he's all healed, I bet he's got other powers.” 

Eleven starts talking unexpectedly. 

“I tried to throw him. He did not move.” 

“See!? He's a superhero.” 

“So, wait, Eleven can't throw him,” you begin, “but that doesn't mean she can't throw stuff at him. What's to stop Vecna throwing a car or something?” 

Everyone looks at Eleven.

Wordlessly, she focuses on a lamp that sits on a side table. To your astonishment, it begins to float in the air, then hurls itself at Eddie with remarkable force. Then the strangest thing happens. It hovers a few inches from Eddie as if stopped by an invisible barrier, then falls to the floor uselessly. 

Silence. You break it, voice splitting as it goes high pitched with worry. 

“Right, but that doesn't mean Vecna can't hurt him, just because Eleven can't, right? Right??” 

Eddie's the one to respond, holding your hands in one bearish paw. 

“Sweet-hearrrt, they'rrre rrright… I can help… I should help… need to prrotect the Shirrre… prrrotect you.” 

“But-but-” Tears well in your eyes as you stare back at him. 

“I need to… otherrrrwise… I am… this… is all a waste.” 

You nod, but pull your hands from his and walk into the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. The pain is too much to bear. It does make sense, if you were being rational, but right now you aren't rational. Nothing about this is rational. You've just found the love of your life and you might lose him to this stupid fight. 

Fuck. You love him.

It's finally clear. The feeling in your stomach, the draw you have toward him, the fire in your veins, in your heart. You barely know him, but you love him. 

And now that might get ripped away because of some damn fight that shouldn't have had anything to do with him in the first place. 

You perch on the bed, head in your hands as tears leak down your cheeks. There's no fight in you to stop them, grieving for something that hasn't happened yet but seems inevitable. There's whispering in the other room, plans being made, but it all sounds like it's underwater, drowned by the power of your tears. 

After a while, Eddie opens the door and shuffles in the room, sitting down on the bed next to you. He slowly starts to explain the plan to you, how Will can sense when Vecna or the monsters are near, how Elle will help clear a path, how he has the strength to defeat him, since Vecna's powers are all he has. He doesn't have the speed or strength that Eddie does. 

There's a loaded quiet when he's finished. You're angry, wiping away stray tears fiercely from your face, but you're not angry at him. You're angry at the situation, at Vecna, at the Upside Down. Angry at the powers that seem to be pulling you apart. 

“Fine. But I'm coming with you.” 

“No,” he snarls, pulling his arm around you, “they need… heal-ers. You… can help.” 

“But what if- what if you get hurt?” 

“Won't.” 

“Promise?” 

Staring up whilst you are brimming with tears, he cups your face, looking back at you with soulful eyes. 

“I'll do… everrry-thing I can.”

“No!” You shout, tears falling once again as your face heats up, “you can't say that, they say that in the hospital and people die!”

Wringing your hands, flipping them over and over each other in your lap, you barely notice Eddie falling to the floor in front of you. 

Then his burly arms are circling you, his maw pushed into your abdomen, inhaling you deeply, sweetly. It stops your incessant fidgeting, fingers resting in his long locks. They wind into his hair, twisting through to massage his scalp as he purrs into the flesh of your stomach. 

“Eddie, if you love me you'll come back to me. Do-do you love me, Eddie?”

He looks up at you, deep chestnut eyes searching your face. 

One slow blink. 

There's a soft knock at the door and Dustin opens it. 

“We have to go soon. Are you ready Eddie Dog?” 

Eddie growls low in his throat, swivelling to face him on all fours, hackles raised. Dustin immediately attempts to backtrack, arm raised to try and protect his face. 

“I mean, I didn't mean- it's from the demogorgon, you know, demodogs, Eddie Dog, I did think DemoEddie but Dog-”

Eddie pounces, pinning Dustin to the ground. Dustin's eyes scrunch shut as he screams, voice breaking in terror. 

“Shit shit shiiiiiiiiiit!!!” 

You giggle inanely as Eddie licks Dustin's face wetly. He bounds off him and shoots a wink at you, before lending Dustin a hand and dragging him to his feet. 

“I am not… a dog.” 

Dustin is laughing in relief, nerves racking through it. 

“No you're not, I'm sorry I'm sorry-” 

Steve appears in the doorway. 

“Guys, get in here.”

All mockery forgotten, you make your way into the living space in silence. 

“Steve, what's going on?” 

“That's just it. Listen.” 

You all stop, ears working in overdrive as you all try to hear what he hears. Breaking the quiet spell that had drifted over everyone, you speak. 

“I can't hear anything.”

“Exactly. Don't you get it? All over town, all through the woods, there's been these things. Demogorgons, bats, horrible things. But here, there's nothing.” 

“Eddie, you smell anything?” 

Eddie closes his eyes, snout wiggling in effort as he opens his preternatural senses. His voice rumbles out in its usual gravelly purr.

“That scent… it's herrre, it's on them… up-side-down smell… therrres nothing close by… except a few deerrr.” 

Steve holds a hand up, stage whispering to you.

“He can smell that?” 

“Yes… and hearrr acrrross rrrooms.” 

“Sorry big guy, I just- that's awesome.” 

Dustin is beaming, staring at Eddie like he's a superhero. Steve continues, making sure he's looking at Eddie, you notice, keeping him in the conversation. 

“So, if those things aren't nearby… maybe, maybe they're afraid of him? Hate to say it but I'm starting to agree with Dustin. Maybe you're supposed to be like this Munson.” 

Sighing in acceptance, you turn to Eddie. 

“Fine. If you think you can help you should go. Don't let me stop you. But you have to come back to me.” 

He gives you a slow blink, and you nod, accepting fate. Then you move into action, grabbing the partially used trauma kit, along with anything else you think might be helpful. Everyone else is doing the same, as if they were waiting for your approval. 

Pretty soon you're being bundled into what appears to be a stolen pick up truck with Eddie sitting in the back, as you race back into town. 

If you could call it town anymore. 

Your mind rolls to every post apocalyptic movie you've ever seen, but none of them compare to it happening in front of your eyes. Crumbling buildings that you recognise send spears of hurt through your heart. Over there, the gas station where you bought your first underage beers, now a smoking wreckage. On your left, the drug store where you used to pick up your mom's prescription, cracked and half buried in rubble. 

A cloud of chattering sound passes quickly overhead; you hear Eddie growling low as batlike creatures wing their way to another destination, seemingly unbothered by your presence. It's either that, or they don't want to tangle with your boyfriend. You pray that it's the latter.

Steve takes a sharp left turn and you fling to the side in your seat. 

“I thought we were heading to the library, isn't it that way?” 

“Yep, if you wanna cross a gorge. The roads opened so wide that nothing can get through.” 

The enormity of the situation is sinking into you, winding around your spine, fear clasping you in its unwanted clutches. 

Ignore it. Don't recognise it. Turn your back on it. There's people that need your help. 

Steve pulls up a few yards away from the library, and you clench your jaw, telling your tears to fuck right off. Now is not the time for tears. 

You and Dustin jump out of the truck, and he rushes to the library to bring everyone who needs to be part of this final stand. A final stand that doesn't involve you. A final stand that has the love of your life sitting front and centre. 

Running around to the back of the truck you grab Eddie's head firmly in both your hands. 

“You- you remember what I said? You need to come back to me, you hear me? ‘Cause if you don't I'll kill you myself. Get it Eddie? You do this and you come back to me!!” 

Eddie holds your hands in his enormous paws, enveloping your soft flesh instantly. Nuzzling his snout against your cheek, he breathes in your ear. 

“I'll come back… to what's mmine.” 

You press fierce hot kisses to the soft fur of his face, over and over, until he pulls you from him, holding your hands away. 

“You love me Eddie. I know you do.” 

One slow blink. 

In an instant, he's gone, quieter than snow. Falling to the floor, you hold your head in your hands, crushed by the barbarity of the situation. 

You didn't say it. You didn't tell him you love him too. Saying it out loud would make it more real. Saying it out loud would make the pain worse if you lose him. 

Soft fingers pry at you, leading you onward, inside. In a daze you follow, feet on autopilot as you clutch the trauma bag in front of you like a shield. 

Inside is a bustle of activity, a hive of ants that all have a purpose and none of them involve you. You're guided gently down onto a seat and the insects run about, fetching food, water, bandages. It all seems to be happening outside of you, following a rhythm that you can't hear. 

“Hey, hey!” One of the swarm seems to be addressing you. Tilting your head, you look towards them. It's an older woman; half her face is concealed by a makeshift eyepatch. 

“You're a doctor, right? We need someone over here now!” 

Instincts take over. Legs rising of their own accord, they march over to a camp bed that's been set up. Another woman lays there, breaths shallow and humanising. There's an enormous gash in her side. 

“OK OK, I can help, just don't move too much, I'll try and stop the bleeding.” 

Then the next person. And then, the next person. 

Mind floating into a subconscious haze, your memories take over. That situation before at the hospital, the textbook you once studied, a hypothetical conversation with a doctor. You take it, all at once, power beyond what should be possible, but you do it. 

You do it for him. 

Minutes pass into hours unseen as you tear through every available useful item, every strip of gauze from your bag, until it happens. 

A pain so profound that grips your shoulder and your heart hard enough for you to look around for the shotgun. It emanates out of the bitemark, pulsing into your veins with alarming force. 

“He's hurt.”

Collapsing to the side, you hold a firm hand to your own heart, as if you could will it to slow. Legs give out from under you, your rear landing on the hard surface behind. For a minute you sit, unable to move, unable to think, wondering why everyone around seems so controlled. Don't they realise your entire universe is shattering into splinters before their very eyes? 

There's a hand shaking you by the arm, someone asking if you're OK. They lift you, place you in a seat, and keep asking, and asking. Your tongue feels heavy, unable to form words to explain the hurt you're feeling. This deep hurt is rooted into your bone marrow; heavy, hard and cold. 

There's a familiar face in front of you, a round childish face with curling boyish locks and a worried expression. Dustin. 

“Hey, you there? Can ya hear me?” 

Nodding wordlessly, you point to your chest, directly over your heart, eyes wincing in pain. 

“Did you get hurt?” 

You shake your head, and manage one word. 

“Eddie.” 

Before Dustin can respond, Nancy runs in, face covered in grime and dark blood, panting for breath. 

“They… did it… Hoppers here with Eleven. The gates are closed. But, Eddie-” 

Hearing his name you rush back into your body. 

“Where is he?” 

“Steve and Jonathan are taking him back to the cabin. He's unconscious. He’s… in a bad way, but he's alive.”

He's alive. 

“I need to get to him. Dustin, grab any bandages you can find. Nancy, you got a car?” 

She nods and leads you outside. The sky has quietened, no longer flashing in supernatural colours. Looking upward, you  can almost believe this is a normal night in Hawkins. Taking in the streets, the truth is far from it. 

Three monstrous things lay on the sidewalk, covered in some slimy substance and splattered in unnatural blood. Their skin has a blue grey sheen to it, and their limbs are twisted awkwardly. Their heads seem to have been split open, but then you realise it's just one gigantic mouth, unfurling like a gristly lily. The fleshy petals are lined with dozens of tiny sharp teeth. 

You press a toe to one of them nervously. Its head lulls to one side, utterly lifeless. 

“Hey I got the band- Holy shit!!” 

Dustin's voice cracks mid sentence, then he sighs in relief when he realises the monsters are dead. Nancy calls at you both to hurry and you bundle into the car as she races through the cracked, ruined streets of Hawkins. 

The gas station, the shops, town hall, it's all unimportant. What matters is getting to Eddie. You need to save him. 

Suddenly a heavy feeling in your chest lifts, but not in comfort. It's as if someone's tugged a weighted blanket off of you, exposing your vulnerability for the world to see. Eddie's presence, once a firm hold coddling your heart, is reduced to a whisper of a thought. Gossamer threads tie you instead of lead ropes that you hadn't even realised were there until they were nearly gone. 

“Nancy, we need to hurry, he's almost gone!” 

She doesn't question how you know, just presses her foot to the accelerator and bombs through Hawkins and onto the familiar country road. She gets as near as the woods will allow, until you're yanking the door open and continuing on shaky legs, feet pounding at the bracken and tears streaming from the corners of your eyes. 

A singular thought races through your mind with each footfall. Save him. Save him. Like a heartbeat. 

The cabin starts to appear out of the darkness, the lights inside a beacon of hope. As you reach the front door it flies open, Steve standing in the frame. 

His hair is sticking out in every direction; part of it is plastered to his forehead with blood. A bat with nails in it is hanging limply at his side and his clothes are torn. There's gashes in his front, as if gigantic claws had swiped at him. Previously you would have stopped, gaping at his wounds in horror and done anything you could to help, but after everything you've seen tonight they seem almost trivial. 

“Is he here?” 

Steve takes a deep breath in, swinging the bat at his side as if on instinct. 

“He's here, I guess. He was awesome, then- he wasn't him, in the end. He's not said a word after Vecna, then when Mrs- well, he passed out. Just, be careful.” 

You nod and shoulder your way through, past a long haired guy with the intense expression who you assume is Jonathan, and into the bedroom.

It's a familiar scene, so much so that it borders on comfort. He's strapped down to the bed, a belt wrapped around his feral maw. His breaths are shallow and wet sounding. A snarling whistle of a snore escapes on each exhale. 

His wounds are deep, much deeper than before. There's blood pooling at his side from a gaping wound, it looks like one of those bastard monsters took a bite out of him. That seems the worst damage, that and a bite on his shoulder that almost mirrors your own. You'd laugh at the irony if you weren't so upset. On top of that, there are so many scrapes and claw marks and bruises that it makes your heart ache. 

“One of you, come in here and help me.” 

Steve appears in the door frame, bat held high as if Eddie were about to pounce. 

“Steve, put the bat down. I need your help cleaning these wounds.” 

He lowers his arm and moves nearer to you, but doesn't let the bat go. 

“I don't think you get it. When Vecna- when he realised he couldn't hurt him, those demogorgons got him. He fought three of them at once and then he… well, he tore Vecna in half. Since then he's not… he was a beast. Tried to attack me and Hopper, until Mrs Byers whacked him over the head, knocked him out cold. I'm not sure he's Eddie, anymore.”

There's a tug at your heart, a spindly web like thread that pulls you to your love. 

“He's weak, but he's there. I know it. Help me clean these wounds and bind them before he bleeds out.” 

The two of you work in silence, Steve flinching when Eddie stirs, but he doesn't wake up. When the hole in his side is padded with gauze and tightly bound with bandages, you work on the rest. There's just so many injuries, it's a wonder he's still alive and hasn't bled out yet. 

When it's done, with Eddie patched and bandaged as well as you know how, you collapse onto the floor, hands on your knees. All you can do is wait for him to wake up. That's if he wakes up. If he wakes up as him, and not some mindless beast. 

“Listen, you've done what you can. You're awesome, really.” 

Steve's hand grasps yours on top of your knee. 

“If he's gonna come back for anyone, he'll come back for you.” 

The smile he flashes melts your heart as he gets up to leave. A second later, he returns with a musty blanket and a worn cushion. You take them gratefully and get comfortable on the floor, hoping against hope that your love wakes up. 

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

A roaring growl shatters through your nerves and startles you awake, rocketing through your senses before you have a chance to think. Hot breath blows across your face, messing your hair and making you blink in its turbulence. 

Eddie's on all fours on top of you, crouched low and teeth bared, bindings in tatters all about you. The belt is gone from his jaw; you can only assume he managed to break it with sheer force. A dribble of slobber hangs from his maw; for some reason it's all you can focus on. It wobbles in your vision, as you scramble for some way to get through to him.

He barks roughly, snapping his teeth barely an inch from your face. 

“N-now, you listen to me, Eddie!” 

Your voice squeaks, belying the stern demeanour you're attempting to convey. He growls low, crouching even further over you, giving you an undeniable urge to flee. You can't, not with Eddie on top of you. Not just that, you know deep within your bones that if you attempt to escape, you're dead. 

It suddenly dawns on you that it doesn't matter. You could just throw yourself out there and be eaten. Sure, it'd be painful, but since he's hovering right over your jugular it'd probably be quick. Living without him seems far worse. Or, you might just succeed, and live. 

There's no time for hesitation and pleasantries. So, you grasp the fur around his maw and clutch it desperately, fingers winding into his pelt. His eyes widen, jaw closing slightly, and you take the opportunity to pull his head closer. Your forehead sits flush with his, searching his eyes for any sign of the Eddie you know. 

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me! You know who I am! Can't you smell it? My smell, your smell? You're mine, and I'm yours. You promised you'd come back to me! So do it, come the fuck back to me or I swear I'll kill you myself!” 

Releasing one hand, you pull your t-shirt over your shoulder and show him the mark he left you. 

“You see this? You know what this is? Remember, Eddie!” 

There's a flicker in his hard gaze, a flash of something that just might be your Eddie. Pressing his snout to the mark, he inhales deeply. Then, he's pressing his jaw to yours, nuzzling your neck with his nose. Moving your head to meet his affection, you rub your faces against each other. The tension in the room dissipates as you finally start to see the human behind the beast.

As he pulls his face away, you stare deep in his eyes. 

‘I love you Eddie Munson. I knew you'd come back. You had to, because you love me too. Right?” 

One slow blink. 

Then, he's falling to the floor on his side, seemingly exhausted with the strain. There's no way you'll be able to get him back into the bed, so you throw your blanket around you both and snuggle into his warm pelt before you fall asleep in his arms. 

When you finally wake up, he's still asleep breathing heavily through his nose. The breaths sound much better than before, a stark difference from the heavy, wet sound he was making previously. 

Every joint hurts from sleeping on the wooden floor. You stretch in place, click your elbows, and glance back down at Eddie. 

Even a few hours seems to have helped Eddie with his recovery. The small grazes you didn't bother to cover up are completely healed; just tiny fine lines of scars are all that's left, like the inking of a delicate pen. 

You try to stand up but Eddie's heavy paw is resting on your hip, keeping your back flush to his torso. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, half ashamed to disturb him, “I need to move, my back hurts.” 

One chestnut eye blinks roughly at you then opens, shrivelling from the light pouring through your ad hoc curtains. He's not said a word yet, a fact that is eating your insides up with worry, but you don't mention it. 

He pushes himself off of the floor, managing to stand shakily before flopping to the bed. Even this small movement has him exhausted beyond what should be possible. 

“Eddie, do you want me to get you something to eat? You know, to help the healing?” 

Those soulful deep eyes bore into you, stretching time for just a moment. Then he blinks deliberately at you, twice. 

“No? So, what can I do?” 

Wordlessly, he holds his arms out. You crawl into his embrace as he clutches you to his chest tightly, as if he's scared you'll run away. You couldn't though. Not now, not ever. 

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

After a few hours, he's breathing deeply, and you risk moving to the living space. Once you enter you see Steve and Jonathan there. Nancy climbs out of an armchair and makes her way towards the group, diplomatically standing exactly between them. 

“We didn't want to disturb. How's he doing?” 

Nancy's soft voice breaks the quiet and you allow her a small smile. 

“Great. I mean, he's healing like crazy, seems to be something he can do, and he remembers me for sure. He's not spoken yet, but give him time.” 

She beams at you, then flashes a thousand watt smile at Steve. Shaking her head slightly, apparently at her own actions, she grabs Jonathan's hand and gives it a squeeze. You don't miss the slight frown that flickers on Steve's face, or the little wanton appraising look he gives Jonathan. It's funny, viewing something from an outsider's perspective. They're the perfect little threesone and they don't seem to even know it. 

There's a stirring noise from the bedroom and you run immediately toward it. Eddie's sitting up in bed; it looks like he's trying to inspect the hole in his side with clumsy fingers. 

“Hey, it's OK Eddie, don't touch it. I'm gonna look after you, alright?” 

A flicker of relief passes across his face and he settles down into the mattress, placated. 

You inspect the wound; his recovery is remarkable but there's still a way to go before it's healed. By rights he shouldn't be breathing at all. 

“It looks good, it'll take a while to heal completely but I think you're gonna be alright.” 

A large hand reaches tentatively to your face and cups it, shaking slightly with the effort. His face scrunches, an internal pain crossing it that seems too much to bear. Then, words emerge. 

“...love… you.” 

Instantly welling with tears, you cup his hand in your own. 

“I love you too Eddie. Now sleep, you need to rest. I'll bring you some water, and some food in a while to get your strength back up.” 

He blinks slowly at you, then settles his head back into the mattress, palm dropping from your cheek almost instantly as he falls asleep. You take the cushion from the floor and anchor his head up, slipping it underneath so he doesn't strain his neck. 

Staring at him for a moment looking so peaceful makes your eyes well. Wiping furiously at your face, you disperse the tears and turn towards the doorway. 

“You alright?” 

Steve's standing there, thankfully no longer holding a bat. You nod and walk out of the room with him, after a final glance at Eddie's sleeping form. 

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

Now the danger has passed, the rest of them leave to go get some much needed sleep. The snippets you've been told about the battle for Hawkins sounded bloody and taxing, they all need to recuperate. 

When Eddie starts eating you breathe another sigh of relief. It's a good sign. He seems to be having trouble again with picking things up and using words but it's getting better by the hour. 

Collecting a bucket from outside, you fill it with warm water and grab some soap and a washcloth from the bathroom, then take it to the bedroom. Eddie's sitting up in bed, having just finished a whole chicken. He's licking juices from his furred fingers when you walk in. 

“Hey, that good? Want any more?” 

“Good… forrr now.” 

You smile at him and waddle over with the heavy bucket. Placing it on the ground with a heavy thud, you soak the cloth and add some soap to it. 

“What… doing?” 

“Oh, well you've got too many bandages on for me to clean you in the tub, so I thought I'd wash you in here, if that's alright.” 

Flashing his teeth in the epitome of a wolfish grin, he purrs out a response as he whips off the blanket covering him. 

“Hot nurrrse…. Giving me… sponge bath? Yess please!” 

You roll your eyes but you're smiling as you do it, and help him wriggle out of his sweatpants. He's naked, cock already kicking up with your proximity. 

“This isn't about that, Eddie!” 

“-Orry.” 

“And don't just drop your s'es to be cute, I know you can say them!” 

He gently grasps your hand in his and you melt just a little. 

You start cleaning him as best as you can, tenderly mopping in between the bandages, taking care to remove as much of the crusted blood and grime as possible. 

As you work, you feel his furred finger curl under your chin, guiding you to look at him. 

“Eddie?” 

“You… rrreally carrrre about… mme, don't you?” 

Trying to move out of his grip shyly, he holds your chin firmly waiting for your reply.

“I mean, yes, of course. I told you Eddie, I love you.” 

Damp fingers twine in his thick burly hand. His eyes are on you but seeing through you, deep in thought. You squeeze his fingers in encouragement. 

“What's on your mind, Eddie?” 

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. 

“It's stu-pid… I just thought… when it all ended… when gate closed… I'd go back… be norrrmal.” 

Emotion floods those brandy hued eyes, you force a lump in your throat to go away. 

“Eddie, you've never been normal,” you say, smiling at him, whilst he growls a little chuckle in his throat, “but that's not a bad thing. You're different Eddie. You've always been different. You're odd, and funny, and intense. I love you, and not in spite of those things. Because of them. Because you're you.” 

Eddie roughly rubs a hand over his eyes to disguise the tears. 

“Love you… what the fuck… did I do… to deserrrve you.” 

“Don't know, but it must have been pretty awesome.” 

You smile as you finish cleaning him, drying him off as best as you can, and let him get more rest. It seems each time he naps his healing quickens exponentially, so you encouraged as many as you could. 

It was late evening by the time you saw him again. You had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the TV, curled up wearing Eddie's black t-shirt and nothing else, with a cushion between your knees for comfort. 

There was warm pressure just on the inside of your thigh, a heaviness that for some reason made you feel safe. 

Cracking one eye open, you see Eddie is sitting on the floor facing you, his furred cheek resting on your leg. His snout is just breaching the hem of the t-shirt, dangerously close to your heat. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” 

He takes a deep breath in and your cheeks flood with embarrassment. 

“I miss-ed you… miss-ed this.” 

“We can't, like, do anything Eddie, not until you're healed.” 

Lifting his head up, he points wordlessly to his side. The bandage has been removed. Amazingly, it's knotted scar tissue; a few tufts of fur are growing on it already. In a few days you'd be surprised if you could even tell the near life threatening blow had even happened. 

“Wow, thats- fuck, that's incredible. You're amazing!” 

He makes a little satisfied noise at the praise and sits up, towering over you on the sofa. 

“So… arrre we good? Forrr… a little game?” 

Tilting your head, you mockingly appraise him, looking him up and down and checking each knot of scars. 

“Well… seems I can give you the all clear. What did you have in mind?” 

Opening his maw, he flicks his tongue over his teeth, and stares at you hungrily. 

“I've got… an i-dea.” 

He stands up and pulls you to your feet, reminding you again of the sheer size of him, and wordlessly leads you to the back door. 

When you're outside, the lack of noise really strikes you. There's not a sound in the woods. An eerie quiet washes over you, making each breath, each heartbeat all the louder. The air is crisp, but not freezing. It nips at your bare legs, trailing goosebumps up your thighs. You look up at the sky; a beautiful array of shining stars fill it, and the moon provides a little light so you can make out the dark shadow of trees about you. It's ethereal and beautiful. 

“It's really pretty Eddie, but what's this got to do with a game?” 

He stands just behind you, firmly grabbing you by your hips as he bends to speak in your ear. 

“We'rrre tied… in ourrr little chases… thought we could…” 

“Out here? In the dark? Eddie what if theres-” 

“Nothings herrre… animals fled frrrom the monsterrrs… can smell. It's just you… and mme.” 

The thought sends a little shiver down your spine, pins and needles rushing from the base of your neck. 

“You like the… i-dea. Can tell.” 

You curse your own body for betraying you, but he's absolutely right. You're already wet just thinking about it and it's starting to dampen your thighs. A heat floods through you, making you forget about the cold. 

“OK… say I'm interested, what are the rules?”

“Two minutes head starrrt… then, when I catch you…” He playfully licks the shell of your ear, “I can do… whateverrr I want.” 

“Within reason?” You say, voice already shaking. 

“Within… rrreason.” 

“Five minutes.” 

“Thrrrree.” 

“Done.” 

Immediately you tear away from his grasp and run, giving him no time to think about it. The forest floor is surprisingly soft under your bare feet, a carpet of pine needles allowing you to run comfortably, unhindered. 

Your ears are occupied by the sound of your own beating heart. It's pumping wildly in your chest, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins, making each decision. You zig zag, double back a little, and turn in a circle, to try and throw him off the scent. A part of you wishes there was a river nearby to help confuse the trail further. Then again, most of you is glad there isn't. It's not like you don't want to be caught. 

A fallen branch makes you trip and you sprawl unseen in the dark. The rush is still there, but you try to be more careful and take a little time looking for anything on the ground that could harm you. Squinting in the dark, you make out a huge stone in front of you which could have seriously injured you. Skirting around it, there's a copse of close together trees to one side. Then, there's an alrighty roar. 

He sounds so close, you must have made less progress than you thought. Dashing for the trees, you enter a little circle of pines and press your back against one panting for breath. You can hear him now. It sounds like he's galloping through the forest on all fours, crashing through branches and twigs like a hot knife through butter. 

You daren’t move, you daren’t breathe. This close there's no chance he won't hear you. Thighs clenching so hard you're in danger of losing blood flow, you feel your slick covering them, nearly slipping apart because of it. It's uncanny; you don't know why your body seems to have this visceral reaction to his presence, but really you don't need to know. All you know is that this feels so right, so natural for you, that it's accepted without hesitation. 

The absence of noise is what makes you jump. One minute there's crashing and breaking branches; the next, silence. You grip onto the rough bark, fingers white knuckling in fervent anticipation. 

You hear him then, soft footfalls crunching and sniffing noises. Keeping your back pressed firmly against the tree trunk, you try to breathe as quietly as you can. Each second that goes by feels like it stretches on for an eternity, as you hear him get closer and closer… and then walk past behind you. Breath leaving you in a gasp, you relax your muscles slightly. 

Until he's directly in front of you, completely naked, the sheer weight of him pressed up against you as he pins both your arms by your sides. His cock is throbbing against your stomach, huge and painfully hard. Bending his head to your level, his snout nudges your ear. 

“I win… you’rrre mmine.” 

He nips at your neck, his sharp teeth breaking the skin. Pain blossoms out from the mark, but it's followed by a wave of pleasure that sends another wash of wetness out of you. 

Eddie growls so deeply that you shiver, and suddenly your world is shooting upward as he grasps you firmly by the ass and lifts you up, your t-shirt riding up to your chest. The hard bark of the tree is pressing into your naked skin as he holds you there like a play thing, claws digging in your flesh. His tongue laps through your folds, tasting you with such ferocity that it makes you moan wantonly, your nails scraping into his scalp, hanging on for dear life. 

Cloying heat is surrounding you, suffocating you. You pull the shirt over your head and toss it in a vain attempt to get some relief but it's no use. Eddie's tongue is buried inside your tight cunt, a dizzying tornado that's making your head spin, but you need more. 

“Fuck- please Eddie, I-I need- oh God- I need you inside me.” 

He lifts your back off of the tree, then slams your spine against the rough wood, expelling all breath from your lungs. He's shaking his head back and forth, long snout rubbing over your clit. A hard no, but it's setting fireworks off inside you all the same. He lets up for a moment, just one, rumbling out words so close to your pussy you feel the warm air of his breath and the vibration of it on your clit. 

“You want me… so bad… then fuckin’ cum. Now.” 

His thumb breaching your weeping sex is a complete surprise. It's just so thick; moving inside you with such animalistic intensity that you're clenching and coming with an obscene scream directed at the heavens. You crumble to ash and dust within his very clutches, the smouldering fire flaming bright and burning all of you, inside and out. 

There's no time to recover, to breathe. He slides you down the tree trunk and onto his waiting member, forcing it inside with barely any warning. Tears spring from the corners of your eyes as he forcibly lifts you by your hips and slams you back down, over and over, his powerful thrusts pulling whimpers out of you. You're just so full, his swollen length pulsing inside, throbbing you to ecstasy. 

The strings tighten inside you, firming the pressure in your belly, which suddenly snaps, dissolving into an intense wave of pleasure that gushes from your hole and threatens to push him out due to its violence. He shudders with you, holding you close and grinding into you, helping you ride it out with almost gentle movements that bely the ferality he displayed only moments ago. Your foreheads touch softly, breaths in tandem. 

For a second you think he's finished. You couldn't be further from the truth. His voice is strained, as if he's trying to keep it under control. 

“You… do that… again.” 

Before you can blink his knuckles are dragging harshly over your clit, back and forth, sending a shiver through your spine on each rough pass. 

“Eddie- oh holy- oh fuuuck!” 

You're barely able to speak, to think. Sentences fail to form, in fact your bordering on drooling at the way he's fucking you dumb. In moments you're clenching around him, walls fluttering uncontrollably as you sob out another release, muscles contracting involuntarily and quivering all over your body. After a while, you realise you're weeping, tears streaming with no barriers to stop them. 

It still doesn't stop Eddie and his violent conquest over your form. He seems intent on owning you, ruining you, taking every last ounce of pleasure out of you to leave you a shattered blubbering mess. It's as if he needs to get his pain and anguish out; it's pouring from him and into each movement of his hips.

“Again.” 

Sobs are bubbling out of your mouth, wet and round, spit gathering at the corners. 

“Eddie, I- I can't-” 

“Again!” 

Then he's pinching your clit hard between thumb and forefinger, as his teeth nip at your breast. The overbearing pain and the zealous pleasure are too much. Shamefully, you release yet again, slick running down your legs and onto the forest floor in a sticky web. 

It's only then that he holds you close, hard arms snaking around your back as your legs shake wildly either side of his hips. His bearish hands grasp you tightly as he throbs his own messy climax deep inside you, roaring loudly, pulsing and pulsing until you've milked him dry. Even then he remains, hard and swollen, locked in and unable to separate. 

His touch is far more gentle now, lifting you by the hips as if you are to be cherished and placing your back softly to the pine needle covered ground. He hovers over you, almost in fear of breaking you, one rough hand stroking at the delicate skin of your cheek. Staring into his eyes, you see the shame harbouring within them.

Before he can speak, you're grasping his furred cheeks and holding his gaze. 

“Eddie, it's OK, honestly. I mean, it was a little rough… but fuck me… that was amazing. You're amazing.” 

He nuzzles into you, deeply breathing in your smell as he cuddles you in the softest embrace. 

“-Orry.” 

“You trying to be cute with me again, Eddie Munson?” 

Your stern words just earn you another squeeze, a slightly tighter hold from his firm arms. For a while you lay there, feeling the other's heartbeat and listening to nothing but the wind between the trees. 

It takes a bit, but the knot finally subsides and you are able to extricate yourselves from its hold. As soon as Eddie's comforting arms are no longer around you, you start to shiver massively. 

“Need.. get you home… climb on.” 

He's on all fours, crouching low in front of you like a tamed lion. 

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” 

There's a soft rumble in his throat that almost sounds like laughter. 

“Get on… beforrrre you frrreeze.” 

You can't really argue with that. 

Hesitating with your knee up high, you're trying to work out where you need to be. You've never ridden a… a wolf? A lion? A monster? Briefly, you think you've never ridden an Eddie, but you blush profusely when you remember that's simply not true.

Finally deciding on swinging your leg over near his waist at the thinnest part of him, you settle into the soft fur. He swings a paw up and grasps your hand, leading it toward the longer hair down his spine. 

“Might want… to hold on… sweet-hearrrt.” 

You twine your fingers delicately into the thicker part of his pelt. That is, until he starts running on all fours through the trees. You grip tightly when you feel the sudden rush of speed, fingers losing blood as you hold on in fear of crashing to the floor. 

Once the initial shock is over, it's electrifying; a thrilling, hedonistic mix of riding a horse and a motorcycle at once. The wind whips through your hair and stings your uncovered skin, making you feel oh so alive. The constant push and pull of powerful muscles beneath you make you realise just how strong Eddie is. It suddenly dawns on you that no matter how rough he's been with you, he's holding back. If he showed you half his power you doubt you'd live to tell the tale. That stark realisation has you falling for him all over again. 

It's that power that seems to flow up from him and through you. You feel like some sort of heathen queen, riding through the forest on your monstrous steed, naked as the day you were born. Wild, savage, and formidable.

Too soon, your impromptu ride is over as he lopes toward the lights of the cabin, eventually coming to a stop. Sliding off of his mighty form, you land on both feet practically buzzing with excitement, caring not a jot for the fact that you were still naked. 

“Eddie, that was incredible! We need to do that again, like, every night. Fuck, I'm shaking!” 

You beam at him, glowing inside and out. 

“If anyone else… said that… I'd bite them. But… it's you. I'll be you’rrre… steed.” 

“You just want me to ride you again.” 

In the short time you've been together, you've gotten used to the subtle signs in his face, in the looks in his eyes, enough to be able to read him. You don't need any of those though, not when his usual whiskey eyes are blackened with desire. 

“You… not done?” 

Grinning profusely, you open the back door and beckon him with your finger. 

“Nope.” 

“You… animal.” 

You laugh; a messy, loud, belly laugh at the pure irony of the situation. 

Walking into the bedroom, you watch him follow you in. There's pine needles stuck in his fur, and mud crusted into his hands and feet. The very air surrounding him is of forests; of damp and bark and moonlight. 

All it's doing is stirring up your insides further. Right now, this heathen queen needs her monster king. 

“Lay down.” 

He huffs lowly, towering over your tiny form. 

“You… telling mme… what to do?” 

“Yes. I am. You got a problem?” 

You push lightly at his chest, making him collapse mockingly onto the bed, face twisted in taunting pain, as if you had caused him serious harm. 

“Don't… hurrrrt mme, prrrincess.” 

“I wasn't going to… hurt you, exactly.” 

You straddle his body, backwards, mouth hovering near his already firm length as your ass swings tantalisingly just out of reach of his drooling maw. 

“Now…. Sweet-hearrrrt, fuuuck… so unfairrr…” 

You can feel the breath expelling from his mouth, the way the sweep of his tongue creates air that is failing to make it between your folds. It makes your cunt throb from the lack of attention, still puffy and drooling from your encounter in the woods. 

You lick a firm stripe from his heavy balls to the tip of his engorged purple member, watching it shiver with the affection. There's a salty, brutish taste to him, mixed with the sweet, feminine tang of you, that makes you want to lick him over and over. Rolling the tip of his weighty length into your mouth, you roll it around with your tongue, licking any trace of you and him together away, to be stored in your memories forever. 

“Sweet-hearrrt… please!” 

He's panting, each short breath firing bursts of air at your cunt. You don't let up, not yet, suckling at his tip, pressing firm kisses to the slit on the tip. He's growling and whining, muscles twitching all over. 

There's no way you can take more than a third of his threatening member into your mouth, but you do what you can, stroking firmly with both hands what you cannot take. Spit dribbles out of your mouth and down to your fisted palms, wetting the rest of his length with soaked, messy need. 

He roars, lion-like behind you, fingers pressing further bruises into your soft flesh. You don't let up, you can't. You need to make him tremble beneath you; to feel those controlling muscles fold under the feel of your mouth. 

The thrust up into your wet lips has you gagging around his length, gargling and spluttering around his thick head. You can't chide him for it, not since the movement sets your insides ablaze with need. 

He curls as hard as his spine will allow; the tip of his tongue ghosting over your slick heat. Quivering, you let up on your assault with your mouth, and twist so you can face him. Whines and whimpers expel from his throat as his thick fingers wind around your waist. Before they can contort into growls and snarls, you sink down onto his slippery cock, all the way to the hilt, as if he were the perfect sword to your tight sheath. 

“Lay back and relax… There's a good boy.”  

Instead of taking control, he gives it to you. A whine, high pitched and needy, rolls out of his mouth. 

Bending down, with him still flush inside you, you press your pretty lips against his slathered maw. Open mouthed kisses are pressed onto his jaw, tongue sneaking in and feeling his pointed fangs delicately. He licks purposely into your mouth, dancing against your tensed muscle. 

Grinding hard into him, his solid weapon presses harshly against your g spot, stars forming in the corners of your eyes. He sits up so he can lace his thick arms around you, as if he needed to be even closer somehow. Responding in kind, you position your legs around him, holding tight as he thrusts up into you. 

Sweat is glistening, dripping down your spine at the proximity of his boiling hot body. Your fingers wind into the thicker fur on his spine as he rocks into you, feeling him in your very core. 

Suddenly he's grasping your hips, about to pull you off him. Whining, you shake your head, forcing yourself back down. 

“I'mm gonna-” 

“I know, please, I need to feel it, fill me up, please!” 

Those words are all it takes for Eddie, pushing him over that precipice, free falling into ecstasy. You join him, plummeting into your own release as the feel of his knot consumes you. 

For a while you hold each other, the only clue that time had failed to stop being your panting breaths. Your head is snuggled into the soft coat of his neck, his chin resting on the top of your head. As his hardness finally begins to subside you still remain, the sanctitude of the moment ongoing. It feels as if it will be an ongoing memory to play on a loop in the back of your mind, forever. 

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

The following two weeks flew by in a hum buzz of activity. You're pulling shift after shift at the hospital and helping out at the emergency shelter when you can. The town is pulling together, trying to heal and coming to terms with what will forever be a little bit broken. 

Eddie's mood has been in a shifting, unstable state since the night he defeated Vecna. The nightmares were the worst part of it; on more than one occasion you've had to physically hit him to get him to wake up and stop thrashing in panic on the bed. You try to soothe with words, soft touches and kindness. It's helping, but you know he's got a long way to go. 

Being busy has helped. He and Hopper have come to form an odd friendship. To his credit, Hopper never treated Eddie any different despite his appearance. In fact, he said he's one of ‘Hawkins’ finest upstanding citizens’, since he can't go out and cause trouble. It's not like he can be the town's weed supplier, after all. 

Eddie needed something to do. Hopper understood that deeply, he explained, from his own past traumas and grief. So, he started towing cars to the cabin, getting Eddie to fix them up and send them back as an impromptu mechanic. Fixing things and earning a little money have certainly improved his mood. When he wasn't doing that he was working on the cabin which was starting to feel like home. 

You're on your way there right now. After the conversation you had with Hopper this morning, a huge smile is glued to your face. 

Approaching your home, you see Eddie outside working on a car. When he sees you he bounds over, grabbing the two enormous suitcases you've been struggling with and lifting them with ease. 

“What's all… this?” 

“Take them inside, I've got some news.” 

He does as you ask, depositing them on the floor before he holds you close, snout breathing in your scent at the crook of your neck. 

“Eddie, I spoke with Hopper. He's agreed to give us the cabin for nothing. I just gave away my apartment, so I can stay here with you.” 

Eddie barks with delight, picking you up and spinning you around. You giggle, holding onto his shoulders. He presses his maw to your tummy, breathing you in. 

When he puts you down on the floor, there's a queer look in his eye. 

“Eddie, something wrong?” 

Shaking his head, he falls to his knees so he can look you in the eyes as he holds both your hands in one enormous paw. 

“Not wrrrong… differrrrent. We'll need the cabin, forrr all of us.” 

You tilt your head, confused. 

“What do you mean? There's only me and you.” 

Staring at you as if to gauge your reaction, he presses one bearish hand to your stomach reverently. The hint isn't lost on you, eyes widening in disbelief. 

“Eddie, are you saying that you think I'm… pregnant?” 

One slow blink. 

Legs wobbling, you sit on the floor in front of him. 

“I'm on birth control, I mean, surely I can't be… are you sure?” 

Eddie taps his nose. 

“I'm sure. Is it… a prrroblemm?”

Searching your thoughts you realise it isn't. It really isn't. There's nothing you want more than to spend your life with him, to have a family, no matter what that looks like.

“No, not at all. It's a little… fast, but I want this.” 

Holding your cheek with his rough hand, he makes sure you keep your eyes trained on him. 

“Are you surrre? What… if it's…” 

He gestures to himself, in all his monstrous glory. Cupping his hand on your face, you shake your head.

“I don't care if we have a baby, or a-a cub, or a pup, as long as it's yours and mine.” 

He holds you then, softly and close as you twine your fingers into his thick pelt. 

A life lies before you, one that you couldn't have possibly predicted. A fairytale life; one where the monster gets the girl, and gets the happily ever after. 

Taglist (if you want to be added/removed please PM me)

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

[cherrycranes]

omg I absolutely loved your recent smut about judge jonathan crane 😍 especially the bit of praise for his beloved wife, could you make a part 2 where he "gets back" at the reader after his courtroom blow job? with some extra praise please! thank q so much I really enjoyed reading Under His Desk & have an obsession for Jonathan Crane too, i hope you have a lovely day!! 😍

On His Desk (Judge Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Judge Jonathan Crane x female reader Summary: After your husband's work is done, you two can't be bothered to get to a bed before getting freaky. Word count: 2,538 Contents: (Minors DNI) Smut and fluff! Praise, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie Author's notes: I absolutely adore your idea, so here it is! Thank you for your message, I really appreciate it, it was so motivating, and believe me, I always need the motivation. (I'm such a yapper, this fic is double the size of the last one bye. Mandatory 'english is not my first language' disclaimer along with a 'this is my first time writing p in v sex' one, you know the deal.)

"Court dismissed!" Judge Crane announced with a slam of his gavel. Cheers of freedom that he could only compare to those of his students back in Gotham University over a decade ago filled the courtroom. People always loved being allowed to go home, even if those homes belonged to a reign of terror.

Despite that, Jonathan loved going home too. Bane had granted him the upper floor of the courthouse as a personal living space. A makeshift royal chamber for the King of the kangaroo court and his Queen.

You loved home too. You don't remember the last time you had so much freedom over your place of residence. You and Jonathan had been placed in Arkham or prison cells far too many times over the years. And obviously, the iron bars or the cheaply cared for hospital rooms didn't follow your personal taste and sense of style.

The entire Gotham courthouse, all its rooms, chambers, halls and offices were yours now. Your apartments were full of exquisite decorations and stolen fancy furniture that you had only dreamt of when you were doing time. You were the proud Queen of this castle of chaos, and every day, when your and Jonathan's jobs were done, you loved relishing in the fact that this was all yours.

In a high-morale, the attendees left the court. You watched over them, sat comfortably on your throne: Jonathan's lap. Just an hour ago you had been on your knees under your husband's desk, giving him some sneaky attention just to rile him up. And most naturally, you expected his sweet revenge after work.

"So... My sweet angel..." Jonathan murmured warmly into the crook of your neck, his hands pulling you impossibly closer.

"Yes, my perfect Georgia peach?" You asked in a playful but tender tone. The mischief of your previous actions still lingered upon you like his taste on your tongue. Jonathan scoffed and rolled his eyes with a smirk. His hands held you by the hips as he shifted you into a straddle on his lap.

"You're feeling silly today, aren't you, love?" His voice was soft and perfectly warm, nothing like the tone he'd use when announcing the death sentences. It almost seemed like Judge Jonathan Crane and your husband Jonathan were two different men who happened to be madly in love with you at the same time.

"Don't act like you don't love it." You retorted in flirtation. Your lips found him for a moment, giving him a teasing chaste kiss that made him grip your waist and groan.

"I can't fool you... I live for it, baby... And for you too." His hands helped you back into his kiss, this time adding passion into the mix.

Instinctively, your hips ground on him, on his lap. His grip on you grew tighter. Soon enough his tongue was asking for permission to enter your mouth.

Lips parted for him and he went in so slowly, savoring you like the most delicate of desserts. The hand that wore a wedding ring traced a path from your waist, over the fabric of your dress and towards the skin of your back. His hands were rough from the work on the farm he grew up in and the experiments and fights afterwards. The entire life story of your husband along with the smooth metal of his ring finally found your hair, and he held you there. At just a lick away from him.

You moaned softly into his mouth, and he echoed you. He had a firm grip on your hair and your waist, but nothing painful or aggressive.

“But what you did today… It was very very bad, love.” He broke the kiss just to murmur. His beautiful eyes heavy-lidded behind his square glasses.

“What? You didn’t like it?” You asked in a playful sarcasm. One of your hands ran across his hair, brushing an unruly salt and pepper strand away from his forehead. The other took off his glasses with care. Your husband had a mild case of myopia, he wouldn't miss a thing up close.

“I hated it.” He returned the sarcasm with a smirk. His eyes watched the care with which you set his glasses aside, adoration in such a small gesture and in the way he perceived it. His cock had grown harder in his pants. You chuckled with mischief when you noticed.

“Does that mean I’m getting punished?” It was a cheeky question with a hint of true background to it. Sure, your husband had his kinks and so did you, but you could tell in his eyes, in the way he was holding you that, right now, all he ever wanted to do was to be with you, to feel you and finish what you had started down on your knees.

“Maybe...” He chuckled before leaning in for another kiss, just as deep and slow as the previous one. 

He held you really tight. The emptiness of the courtroom amplified every single noise you made. And he couldn’t get enough of it. His every sense had to be filled with you. Hearing, touch, sight, taste and smell. It all had been conquered a long time ago by his beloved wife and he strived to keep it that way.

His lips went further down, from the corners of your lips to your jaw. Open-mouthed kisses trailed their way towards your neck. He growled at the scent of your perfume, unable to resist pressing his face against you.

“Me neither.” You whispered back, your arms were busy wrapping around his shoulders, brushing past the ripped parts of his suit jacket, and he took it as a green light to act. 

"Smells good." He purred in delight, nuzzling his nose against your neck once more. "Is that the perfume I got you, love?" Your dream perfume, to be exact. Jonathan had sent some of his men to raid the fanciest Gotham stores with a list of expensive gifts for you. In the anarchy money wasn't a problem anymore. Good old 'finders keepers' had played in your favor. Jonathan now made sure to bathe you in the riches his status as a wanted villain wasn't able to afford back in the day. You hummed your ‘yes’ with a proud, flirty smirk, drawing a smile out of Jonathan.

“It suits you so well… Makes me go insane…” He whispered, giving your neck a few more hungry nibbles and kisses. “I'm definitely not waiting until we get upstairs, baby.” Despite the seductiveness in his voice, he was being completely honest. And after all, the courtroom was empty, the pile of desks was strong enough, and he was too hard to handle being patient.

With you secured with the embrace, and with a gentleness intended for a fine piece of china, Jonathan slowly laid you down on his desk. Moving away any sort of clutter that could be an obstacle to your beautiful body before fully setting you there. His lips never once abandoned your neck, the sounds of his sucks and nibbles fusing with the sound of some paper sheets being tossed aside.

"Godammit, you're perfect." He whispered in fluent desire when he pulled back to take a good look at you. Once your head was safely laid on the wooden surface his hand traced the shape of your body over the fabric of your dress. All the way over to your thighs where the hemline rested, although not for much longer. 

Reverently, he slid the dress up to your hips, his baby blue eyes already fixated on your lacy black panties that left nothing to the imagination. 

“Oh, love… You’re perfect and you’re a perfect tease…” He remarked, the corners of his lips were tugged up into a smirk. His eyes reverently tracing the shape of your cunt. His favorite place to be in.

Not wanting to wait any longer, Jonathan yanked the panties off your body, letting them join the sheets of paper. He pushed the backs of your thighs down and hooked each leg on each of his shoulders hungrily. 

In a moment, he gathered up saliva in his mouth and carefully spat over your pussy. Your wetness could be enough on its own, but he was a firm believer in having you completely soaked before taking him in.

“That’s it… Nice and easy…” He whispered with proud hunger, his hands were already taking his cock out of his pants for a second time today.

“Forgive me for not foreplaying you more, love. But if I don’t do this right now I’m going to cum in my pants…” He confessed and got a sweet laugh out of you that shifted into a soft moan when the tip of his penis pressed against your entrance.

He exhaled a hot, lustful breath of relief when his saliva and your own wetness eased his way inside you. You moaned again, your hands held onto the edge of the desk as the familiar sensation took over. Every vein and inch engraved in your memory, your pussy so warm and needy for him. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth opening for his own moan when he pushed all the way in. One of his hands caressed your cheek softly and his eyes opened to seek your permission to go on.

You nodded, your tongue darting out to lick his thumb mischievously as it brushed over your lips. He groaned at the sight and at the rush when he started to move, fucking you slowly and deeply into the desk.

“Ohh, love… My beautiful love…” He muttered, his breathing was starting to get heavier the more he pounded in you, yours was too. You moaned, you cunt getting even slicker. You clenched once around him, just to bask in the pretty sound he made. To get back at you, he plunged his thumb into your warm mouth, pressing the digit against your tongue. You diligently sucked it and clenched your walls around him again in playfulness.

With a groan that tested the edge of a moan, Jonathan pulled his now wet thumb out of your mouth. He found both of your wrists and held them down firmly but not aggressively, just in a search to hold onto you and return the banter. His hips bucked faster now, the sound of your skin slapping against his added to the lists of sinful sounds echoing in the courtroom.

“God, you’re always so tight…” He thought out loud, the pride in your eyes made him thrust into you harder.

“Jonathan!” You semi-complained, your wet throbbing pussy had nothing against him, but your remaining consciousness did just a little bit. It was more of a playful banter in all honesty.

“Told you you were going to be punished, love…” He explained himself with another hard thrust that made you yelp. “Just… Not as roughly… You’re far too gorgeous… To be treated like that…” Dirty liar. You had been spanked or facefucked for much less in the past, but Jonathan seemed so needy for you today, you decided to let it slide for now.

“Oh, God…” You cried out multiple times as his thrusts went on, his grunts and moans usually replying to you each time. His grip on your wrists was passionate, keeping you there and sinking his nails into your flesh, adding a soft hiss to your repertoire of sounds. 

Your pussy kept clenching around him like your life depended on it, to the point where you started to do it automatically. You threw your head back with another moan that was driving your husband mad. Incredibly so.

The tip of his cock hit the right spot inside you, and he took advantage of the way your body trembled and how you let your guard down when your eyes closed to start his final attack. He left your wrists alone now, and your hands were free to return to your vicious grip on the desk. Something that you would definitely need.

The pleasure that boiled in your depths suddenly turned into an intense haze when Jonathan one-upped your clenches with skillful circular motions that he pressed on your clit. His body-hand coordination showed off as he maintained the fast pace with his hips but treated your bundle of nerves with a practiced care. All you could do was gasp and yelp, moan and hold onto the wooden edge and then moan again.

Jonathan kept abusing the hell out of your g-spot and your clit with pride and mischief, definitely taking his revenge on you. Still, he couldn’t deny just how precious you were to him, how beautiful you looked, how delicious your tight little pussy felt around his cock. You were his perfect angel, and he craved to treat you as such.

With love, he leaned in, holding the top of your head with his free hand and kissing you senseless, his tongue tasting yours and swallowing your moans straight from the source. He was going wild, his circles applied more pressure to your clit and his pace became faster. He had to push his body weight on you a bit harder now.

His left hand then traveled from your head to your face, and then all the way over to your clothed breast, cupping it and squeezing it. He purred and massaged it over your dress, a satisfied smirk formed against your lips when he felt your pussy’s reaction to it. You were so close to the edge for him.

Intelligently, he went all out. His hips pistoned so hard your g-spot didn’t have a single second to rest. His fingers moved so fast over your clit it felt like a vibration. You moaned out his name and probably left curved marks on the wood from your nails.

“That's perfect… So perfect, my love, you’re doing so good!” Jonathan struggled to speak in his own pleasure. He was so close to another orgasm but he held it back, even if his slapping balls felt tighter and tighter. He was not cumming until you did.

“Jonathan!” You cried out. You took a weight off his shoulders when, unable to take it any longer, the tension and heat that coiled in your insides snapped, making you come all over his cock before him.

His own endurance was affected with the feeling of your wet, thick orgasm. Your throbbing cunt eagerly milked his twitching cock. He pounded into you a few more times before groaning and finally allowing himself to release. Your slick and the remnants of his saliva now mixed with his cum. His body rested lovingly on top of yours, distributing his weight so he didn't crush your panting, post orgasmic form.

With adoration, he kissed your neck, his fingers allowed your clit to rest as he drew them back towards his lips, licking the digits that had touched it in both an act of desire and utter love.

You were his life, his love, his driving force, his literal partner in crime and most importantly, his wife. And despite the way things were now in Gotham, he was grateful that he had you here, in his arms, full of him like he was of you.

[corrodedcoughin]

thinking about how if Eddie was cornered for a fight he’d probably play to his strengths and try to freak out his attackers by bouncing around like old timey boxers, looking like a kangaroo and punching the air while saying ‘oh you wanna go??? You wanna go??? Well let me tell you! There’s going to be three hits!!! Me hitting you, you hitting the floor and the ambulance hitting 80 when it takes you to the hospital. That’s right. The old left, right, goodnight. The ol’ razzle dazzle!’

And the guys just…leave? Because what is this guy doing? And why is he moving like that?

Eddie munson: 1, bullies: 42. Things are finally looking up.

What Eddie doesn’t know is that Steve Harrington was standing just off to the side and waved the bullies on when he saw it all kick off. Not wanting to interrupt Eddie’s…technique…he did what he could without raising suspicions

[san-fics]

Damian: after the kangaroo, I almost decided that I was going crazy Bruce [with caution]: what kangaroo, Damian? Damian: yesterday I took Alfred the Cat to the vet and there I saw a kangaroo Damian: all 5 stages of making a decision about an inevitable visit to the mental hospital flashed through my head in half a second…

[sideblog-9000]

Average s7 House Md episode

Patient: help me I'm dying from something uninteresting for once. I need helellpppp

House: takes the case without fighting because he's Cuddy's bitch.

House: this case is uninteresting. Run every test...NOW....masters kys you're fired okay who do you want to do the tests with Blondy mc kangaroo, black or shorty?

Masters:

House: break into his house. Find the dildo he's hiding underneath his bed...

??

Chase: I am now going to bang 16 women ☝️

Foreman: .... (He has no plot line)

Thirteen: *crickets*

Patient: houseeee please come back stop hanging out with your girlfriend I am going to DIE

*stupid, uncoordinated plot for 30 minutes, probably including cuddy and Rachel, completely stupid. I don't give a shit*

*The gang trying to contact house via phone for an hour but he won't pick up because he's either banging cuddy or cuddy is banging him, with a sledgehammer*

*patient has emergency*

*cuddy and house make up*

*house shows up at the last minute at the hospital like danger mouse and saves the day*

House: you're all morons, he obviously ate raw kangaroo meat he found In Chase's pocket, haha just kidding, cancer bye

House shimmeys away

Wilson: I too am in this episode

[katelynnwrites]

The Very First Night | Laura Freigang x Baby!Reader

warnings: mentions of preemie baby medical stuff

word count: 586

summary: your first night at home with your Mama isn't as smooth as she would have liked

a/n: part of Laura's Honigbiene

The first night that you are home with your Mama is the scariest of her life.

You are still so tiny, so fragile and she’s terrified to hold you without the nurses and doctors around.

You’d been so calm the whole way home from the hospital and for the first few hours that you spent alone with Laura.

Then you start crying.

And no matter what your Mama tries, you don’t stop.

She attempts to give you a feed but you refuse to accept the bottle. Your diaper is dry and she can’t figure out what’s wrong.

‘Please Honigbiene. Oh please you have to stop.’ She begs, cradling you in her arms as she paces the length of her apartment.

You are exhausting yourself with the way your little arms and legs flail around but your screaming doesn’t stop . Or even lessen and Laura is near tears herself.

‘Please baby please.’

She’s extremely worried now because your breaths are coming in sharp gasps and you seem to be choking on your own tears.

Your entire face is red and scrunched up, your Mama trying her best to soothe you.

You haven’t eaten in hours and the striker knows how crucial it is to get you to drink your milk.

As a preemie, your growth is even more important than that of a normal newborn.

It had been heavily monitored in the neonatal intensive care unit and you had been steadily putting on weight there.

Laura is anxious to have you continue your progress but she doesn’t know how to do that if you won’t even stop crying, let alone accept your bottle.

Your distressing cries take its toll on your Mama and she lets out a heartbroken sob.

‘Honigbiene, I’m sorry but I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.’ She whispers.

It’s already in the middle of the night and Laura is seriously considering just getting you in the car and taking you back to the hospital.

She wants to call her own mother for advice but it’s too late for that. She is certainly asleep by now.

Desperately, she tries one last thing.

Lying against the headboard of her bed, your Mama strips her shirt and bra off and you of your onesie.

She rests you against her bare chest, hands carefully holding you in place.

‘Let this work please. Please baby, you have to calm down. All this crying isn’t good for your breathing.’

The German woman hasn’t given you kangaroo care in a while, not since the doctors told her she could safely cradle you in the hospital.

But she hasn’t forgotten how much you love it.

‘Mama’s here Honigbiene.’ She murmurs, gently wiping away some of your falling tears.

Laura thinks she must be imagining it when your sobbing starts to taper off.

Then she realises she’s not because with one final hiccup, you quiet down.

‘Is this what you wanted?’ She half laughs, half sighs with relief.

Gingerly, she reaches for your bottle and her relief intensifies when you begin to drink eagerly.

There’s only the soft sound of your sucking filling the room and she soaks in the much more peaceful atmosphere.

The feeling of your body against her chest calms Mama down as much as it does you.

Your Mama keeps her eyes on you, watching carefully as you drain the bottle.

‘You’re going to be okay, Honigbiene. We’re going to be okay because we’ll figure it out as we go along. I love you so much.’ She promises.

German Translation:

Honigbiene - Honeybee

[skele-bunny]

CW - MENTIONS OF DEATH

(but this is a fluff post! I promise!)

So, we know about quints being assigned to the hospital, of course, yes!

But what about fire ghouls?

Fire ghouls who are usually seen in the intensive units. Being the ones to have skin-to-skin with the kits and infants in the NICU as baby huggers/kangaroos. Holding them so securely and being a part of their every day routine, comfort, and care.

Fire ghouls who are in the ICU rubbing coma patients legs and arms to keep blood flow going but not too much to disrupt their cold-care for healing.

Fire ghouls who hold hospice patients to soothe their death-cold tremors, letting them have that relaxation and sweet comfort; even as it's their last breath and last time they close their eyes.

Fire ghouls who lay delicately against hypothermic patients as they lay underneath their warming blanket to help raise their temperature and keep them at a safe level.

Fire ghouls also seen in the physical therapy unit (along with waters) to help ease pains and stiffness, cramps, and just general pains.

[chobani-flip]

BEHOLD my bucktommy prompt-kisses fic series!

short one-shots! many kisses! fluff and humor! attempts at character studies! woohoo!

they're from this kisses roulette list

night strewn salt across the sky for @apartmentsmoke

24. a sleepy kiss, 1k, T

Buck can’t help the little melody that escapes him along with the next breath as he rubs his face against the pillow and arches into the touch. The fingers settle in his hair again with short blunt nails shiveringly nice against his scalp. “Mmmmzzt?” Buck says through his barely opened mouth and feels an absurd sense of accomplishment when it makes Tommy let out a short rumbly laugh, the current number 5 in the top 10 sounds Buck can make come out of Tommy’s mouth.

an orange, peeled and quartered, flares for @bucktheally

33. a kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking, 1.4k, G

There’s a part of Buck that wants to nonsensically demand that Tommy better not get injured ever again. It’s the part of him that roared to life when he arrived at Tommy’s house to an empty driveway and got an “be up to let you in in a sec. Took an uber home from the hospital so the car’s back at Harbor. ” in response to his “U home? Everything ok?”

humming a tune I haven't heard in years for @wakeupnew

4. a forehead kiss AND 40. an impulsive kiss, 1.1k, T

“Have you ever seen kangaroo genitals?” is not a question that Tommy ever expected to be asked in his life. And likely, he never would have been, were it not for one Howard Han first saving said life in a fire 20 years ago, and then introducing him to who Tommy has come to realize might just be the fucking love of his life.

Read on AO3

[dreamwatch]

I tell you folks, it's harder than it looks

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest April warm-up round.

Prompt: Taxed | Word Count: 996 | Rating: T | CW: Language, description of injury, hospitals | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Exhaustion, Eddie Munson needs a hug, arguments, but it all works out, workaholic Eddie Munson

(So... I forgot to get something written before today, so this is a bit of a speed write and I hope I got as many typos and redundancies as possible. For anyone interested, the idea came from another fic I wrote a while ago, where you can see Wayne's POV.)

****

Kangaroos. That was the reason Steve had picked Australia to join the tour. Eddie called from every continent, trying to tempt him with far-flung locations, but in the end it was the kangaroos that got him. And thank god, because if he’d got the call that Eddie had collapsed on stage, or worse, saw it on the news, he’d be losing his mind right about now. So yeah, thank fuck for kangaroos. 

They’re holed up in a hospital in Sydney, trying to keep the press away from Eddie. Jeff and Ben hover near Eddie’s bed, Gareth standing as close to the door as he can, arms crossed and eyes firmly fixed on the floor. The atmosphere is uncomfortably tense.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay then. I mean, as long as you’re sorry—”

“Gareth,” Jeff interrupts. Always the peacemaker.

“Don’t ‘Gareth’ me, man. I’ve been saying for months, for fucking years, we need to slow down before one of us gets hurt. And here we are. But hey, I’m just the drummer, no one fucking listens to me. Or any of us for that matter. Just him.” He gesticulates at Eddie. 

Steve feels like an interloper and it’s a little uncomfortable; he’s got no desire to be the Yoko Ono in this situation but he’s not leaving until Eddie tells him to. His eyes drift back to Eddie who’s staring out into the Sydney skyline. The fierce bruise on the left side of his face has come out in anger now, gauze and tape covering stitches. It makes his heart fucking ache.

Steve had been there at the edge of the stage watching the show when Eddie wobbled and went loose-limbed, watched him just drop, the sickening snap back of his head as he hit the drum riser. Ben had got to him first, Jeff signalling for help, while Gareth stood behind the drums, frozen. He had looked terrified. Steve stood there watching helplessly, heart in his throat the whole time. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide with panic. “Shit. Wayne.”

“Taken care of,” Steve tells him. “Called him a few hours ago. He’s fine. Getting your room ready as we speak.”

“Press too,” Jeff chips in. “You don’t need to worry about anything, it’s all taken care of man.”

“Shouldn’t need to be,” mutters Gareth.

Jeff sighs, “Jesus Christ, man, will you quit it?” 

Gareth finally looks up, first at Jeff, and finally at Eddie. But there’s no anger there. Steve can see the worry in his eyes and he gets it. He’s spent years of his life worrying about bad things happening to his friends and being powerless to do anything about it. It fucking sucks. 

Ben puts his arm around Gareth, leading him outside. “Let’s go rustle up snacks, dude, I’m fucking starving.” 

Eddie picks at the edge of the tape holding the IV in the back of his hand. “Well, that went well.” 

“Hey,” says Jeff, shaking Eddie’s ankle to get his attention. “He’s not angry, okay? He’s just scared. We all were, but… you know what he’s like. He’s our sensitive little flower.”

A little ghost of a smile settles on Eddie’s lips and it unlocks something in Steve, eases the worry just a tiny bit. 

“Yeah, I know. I am sorry, you know? I didn’t want this to happen, man. I just… I just thought it was the right thing to do for us. The tour. All of it.”

Jeff sighs. “Listen, when we get back, a few things need to change. Firstly, we’re taking a fucking break. A long one. We’re all burned out.”

Eddie nods softly. “Of course.”

“And we are never doing a tour this long again. Non-negotiable. Strict date limits going forward.”

“Absolutely.”

“And one last thing.” Jeff shifts uncomfortably. “He didn’t say it the right way but… Gareth wasn’t wrong. About no one listening to us. To Phil, specifically, not listening to us.”

Steve knows Eddie has a near-pathological fear of losing everything, but he’s since learned that their manager, Phil, has preyed upon it, tapping into the fear, pushing for more albums, more interviews and appearances, and longer tours. And Eddie just can’t say no. “You never know when it will stop,” he told him once. 

Steve would love to get his fucking hands on Phil right about now. 

“He’s got to go.”

And Eddie agrees, just like that, because it’s Jeff. To the public, it’s Eddie’s band, but to everyone who truly knows them, it’s Jeff who keeps them together. It makes Steve smile to think about the nerdy kid from high school, comparing him to this man who stands at Eddie’s side in front of thousands, night after night, confidence oozing from him.

The door clicks open, and Ben wanders in with a Coke, Gareth slinking in behind him. Gareth shuffles forward and Eddie reaches up with his free hand, and Steve finds himself letting out a huge breath when Gareth takes it. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” Gareth says, softly.

“I know. I know man. I was an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

Steve is expecting a snappy comeback, but Eddie’s starting to wilt, and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I think we should let Eddie get some rest,” he says. “Long flight tomorrow.”

The boys say their goodbyes, and Steve pulls his chair as close to the side of the bed as he can manage. Eddie smiles at him, their fingers entwined.

“Close enough there?” Eddie says, smiling fondly.

“No,” he replies, smiling back. He never wants to let Eddie out of his sight again. “How you doing?”

Eddie drops his head back onto his pillow. “I feel like shit.”

“Maybe I’ll need to move to LA to keep an eye on you.”

A soft blush blooms across Eddie’s cheeks. “Maybe you do,” he says shyly.

“Go to sleep then. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As Eddie drifts off, Steve thinks about how to tell Robin he’s moving to LA.