#mutt femme

[rabidbatboy]

MUTT FEMME ; for femmes who identify with the word ‘mutt’, like mutts or are related to mutts in some way

MUTT BUTCH ; for butches who identify with the word ‘mutt’, like mutts or are related to mutts in some way

🦇 ——— COINED BY ME

[ PT / mutt femme ; for femmes who identify with the word ‘mutt’, like mutts or are related to mutts in some way

mutt butch ; for butches who identify with the word ‘mutt’, like mutts or are related to mutts in some way

coined by me / PT ]

[azis-nebula]

listen, getting off by myself is great. But fuck it’s a lot of work. Humping my pillow and whimpering into the quiet of my room isn’t enough anymore. Fingering myself until my hand cramps up isn’t doing it for me.

I need need need a nice top or switch to just lay me down and ravage me. Show me more pleasure than I could ever show myself. Mark my skin with their nails and their teeth until it’s etched like a piece of art. I want them to sign their name with their tongue on my clit and show how I belong to them. An artist always signs their work, right?

is this too much to ask?

THIS IS ABOUT LESBIAN SEX. MEN AND MINORS DNI

[fxgdxkemutt]

femmes degrading me….. femmes humiliating me……. femmes feminizing me…….. im wet

[goodboypuppy489]

I don't think I'm gonna be normal until someone pins me down and breeds me like dog until I black out. and even then all it's gonna take to turn me into an unrecognizable whore again is a little dp or some edging

[thewriterg]

𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x afab!reader, john ‘soap’ mactavish x afab!reader, task force 141 x afab!reader

summary; You and Ghost weren’t the least bit pleased when you both were roped into Soaps shenanigans for a costume contest but deep down you’d do anything to see the smile on his face —flufftober day;1—

word count; 1.3k+

warnings(s); readers call sign is “coma”, soap having two of the most deadliest soldiers worldwide wrapped around his finger, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @silenthqll & @une-femme-de-lettres— OCTOBER IS HERE WRITERS‼️

“C’mon Hen it’s just dress up for one night” Soap pouted following behind you as you made your way to the cafeteria as you denied him for the seventh time in a day over the same thing he was prominent as hell over dressing up in matching costumes for Halloween and of course reasonably you declined

“Johnny, darling. You’re gonna drive me mad go sit down with Simon I’ll be there in a few” With a small huff the Scot was storming away with the attitude of a toddler as you stood in line for you alls lunch

Ghost perked up from his cup of tea in the furthest table in the cafeteria his chair against the wall as he watched the Scot approach him muttering things to himself with his arms crossed over his chest before sitting in his usual chair with a huff and before Simon could even humor himself in asking him what was wrong the Scot was already rambling of his troubles to the Brit

“You think it’s reasonable aye?” He spoke with a roll of his eyes while Ghost huffed mirroring his actions before grumbling under his breath his voice gruff and deep

“Sure MacTavish”

Soon you were walking towards the booth two trays of food in your hand setting them down gently in front of the men and taking your own seat nothing but a cup of coffee in your grasp as you had sparing right after and preferred to not vomit on your to save yourselves the trouble settling in your chair with a grunt as moments of silence passed you all Ghosts mask lifted below the tip of his nose so he could eat

“You know Ghost thinks it’s a good idea if we dress up” Soap stated suddenly causing the war criminal to clear his throat trying not to choke on the food in his mouth as you peered over you cup of coffee looking the Scot in the eye you gaze sharp like a siren as you hummed

“Is that so?” Your gaze adverted to the Brit who looked at you with blown pupils you had to learn how to read Simon since he pledged his face being covered like the plague but the main starter note you could give to anyone in need?

That man had more expressive eyes than a mime

“Come on love, you know the mutt it putting us against each other” It took everything in you not to chuckle or at least crack a smirk at the look he’d given Soap as if he wanted his head on a chopping block which he looked like he didn’t have an ounce of regret for the interrogation he caused and running out of options he pulled his last stunt

was is it petty? maybe

would it get his point across? absolutely

“It was jus’ a thought don’t worry too much ‘bout it” The Scott mumbled standing from his seat before taking his tray of half eaten food and walking away from the table with a drag of his feet causing you and Ghost to glance at each other little did you know that was just the beginning

💌💌💌💌

For the rest of the day the Scott was unusually quiet and only spoke when spoken to you picked up on the behavior quick and you weren’t stupid you knew that he was trying to manipulate you but you were sick of watching him sulk like a kicked puppy so when Soap had got up to leave the meeting room you threw a glance to Simon who stealthily followed in your footsteps as you went to go corner the Scott in the comfort of your shared chambers that had took too much paper work and a white lie with the help of Price about being married for you all to get to share a room and become each others next of kin

With non faltering steps and long strides you had made it to your room in a mere minute slipping through the door with no regard to see Soap standing putting on what looked to be his loungewear switching from the army print cargo pants, long sleeve compression shirt, and steel toe boots to grey sweatpants, a white wife beater, and thick socks

“Ye need somethin’ Bonnie?” The Scott mumbled looking to you with a tinge of mock sadness in the back of his throat that had Ghost rolling his eyes at the sight from towering behind you

“Stop mopin’ Johnny I’ll wear the damn costume” The words slipped pass the cloth of his balaclava into the air of your room accent prominent, voice gruff, and eyes annoyed and the Scott was as bright as ever again before his eyes adverted to you staring at him with a deadpan expression and before he could even start with his puppy dog expressions you were already nodding your head with the roll of your eyes

To say the Soap was ecstatic was an understatement and you began to regret your decision fairly quickly when he went on an hour long rant about what he wanted to dress up as and a even longer rant when you and Simon had no idea what ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’ was

So you had spent majority of your night watching the film with hushed giggles and laughter whenever Ghost would complain about the quality of the fight scenes which was fairly advanced for the time in the early 2000s But lt didn’t fail to amuse you when the blonde scoffed before muttering something like

“Amateurs”

“Yeah draw even slower you bloody daft”

But you had fortunately got through the movie in one piece before coming to the realization that

youd need two suits and a dress

💌💌💌💌

“Here comes the life of the party yea!?” Gaz announced as You, Ghost, and Soap walked towards the table everyone in the pub dressed up as a different range of characters you rolled your eyes at him a hint of playfulness in the mix of your eyes and before you could speak Gaz was gasping

“You didn’t!” The smirk on Johnny’s face was prominent as he wiped non existent dust off the shoulder of his black suit jacket identical to Simon’s who meekly huffed at the brunette as you smirked a fitted black dress against your body heels standing strong against the sticky bar floor and topping the look in the visible slit of your dress was a thigh holster that held a pistol that may or may not have been real identical to the ones in the belt of your partners

“You’ve done it” Gaz cheered along side Soap probably a few drink in dressed in slacks with a white button down that had blood staining the collar prosthetic fangs creating a small lisp when he spoke while Price shook his head at the sight of his two youngest recruits on their way to get a round for the first table the Captain himself dressed in jeans, a flannel, brown boots and a matching cowboy hat to match it was a sight for sure

You and Simon had took a seat in the booth making sure it was room for Johnny when he’d returned as you listened to Ghost tease your captain on his costume choice which caused a mock roasting session amongst them both as you held back the laughter in your throat

“Dinnae tell me party’s already started” The strong accent evaded your ears as a round of shots were placed in front of all of you

“As if anyone you forgot about you” Your voice carried sarcasm and the Scott just grinned in response before taking a Drink and toast it up which you were all soon to follow before downing it in one go

As you and Simon looked at each other you knew you were ruined

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[autisticangus]

a few thoughts on TAZ Vs Dracula:

this music is a banger i am losing my mind holy shit

lady is ftm (femme to butch) and i made this meme because im convinced its justins thought process every single time he designs a character

i also made this meme while mutts mom was talking

finally i propose an alternate name for this season

The Adventure Zone: Protestant

[switchinstraps]

thinking about my femme doing what she wants with me. yes she’s mine but I’m also hers, so her putting a collar on me and a leash, so she can keep me close, like a big guard dog for her. her tying the leash to the bed and making me hold still like the good mutt I am so she can ride my strap to her heart’s content. telling me to keep my hands to myself while she has her fun, and I obey her, bc I’m her good girl, aren’t I? her fingers in my collar when she wants a kiss, her body bouncing on mine, and me having to just watch, getting wetter and needier with every bounce, until I’m whining and panting like a real dog

maybe when I beg her to let me fuck her proper, she even shushes me, reminds me that dogs don’t talk. so I have to whine and bark for her, like an excited puppy, and I have to wait until she pulls herself off and presents herself to me and gives me permission before I can drive my cock into her and breed her like she deserves, wild and feral and desperate after so much time just watching her gorgeous body and listening to her pretty sounds.

yeah, that sounds pretty good right about now

[honeycollectswhump]

prompt:

you think i actually care about you? cute.

with pet whumpee who started to truly love whumper and believed whumper loved them too

Love and Worship

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, cigarette burns

There is a certain kind of satisfaction linked to spending one’s evening alone in the big hall, surrounded by nothing but gold and jewels, resting on only the softest cushions while occasionally being fed grapes by servants with shaking hands. Others may call it a dream; Mireille calls it a well-deserved daily life.

Everything is beautiful, just as it is supposed to be. The furniture is spotless, having been meticulously cleaned the second Mireille leaves the room, each gem is polished like the morning sun. The servants –about a dozen– wear only the finest clothes, which are almost as expensive and certainly prettier than anything they deserve. 

But what they deserve doesn’t matter, and who cares about the message trying to be sent, when the domestics look like they were taken from the streets? 

This, the big hall, the rooms, every single floor is art. They are a stage for only the finest performers, and sometimes that means having to clothe simple actors in garments more expensive than their life is worth.

It’s a price Mireille is more than willing to pay. Money is never an issue and of course, they don’t outshine her.

Mireille leans back, letting her long black hair drape over the backrest, and takes a drag from the cigarette held loosely in her hand. She looks like a painting, like the pride and joy of a knowledgeable collector. Every single movement is deliberately elegant in a way that has been taught to her since childhood. A woman like her is worth her weight in gold.

Smoking is just another habit she picked up along the way. It’s part of a perfectly curated image, the mysterious lady, the untouchable femme fatale. A calculated show, one that Mireille cannot go without and the thought of abandoning it makes her hands shake, even though she’d rather die than admit it.

Decidedly, she stops that train of thought before any conclusions could be drawn that would be unbecoming for a lady of her calibre. 

Mireille draws in a deep breath through her cigarette and blows the smoke in the air, watching it drift lazily through the hall. Right next to her, her ashtray kneels on the floor, waiting patiently. 

Out of all of her purchases, he’s her favourite. He is undoubtedly beautiful, about as fine as a diamond, with golden hair and shining blue eyes. But then again, Mireille paid good money for his looks. His beauty is not a compliment, it’s the majority of his worth. She would not be satisfied with anything less than perfection.

Her adoration for her companion-decor goes further than his beauty and the entertainment he brings into her life though. There is something about this particular item that her other servants lack, whose fondness for her doesn’t go beyond an innate, natural sense of loyalty.

Her ashtray worships her. Mireille doesn’t need to hear him say it (and it’s not like he was made to speak in the first place). She can simply tell by the way he looks at her with nothing but pure reverence in his eyes. He offers himself up with eagerness and wears the burns like compliments on his skin. 

It’s intoxicating. 

All of her life, men and women alike have adored her, but this is a different, addicting kind of love. Without a doubt, she is the centre of his universe and Mireille would not have it any other way.

The cigarette is nearly burned to the end. After one last drag, she turns her attention towards her ashtray, pondering how she is going to leave a mark this time. There is so much to choose from, although the little round scars are beginning to pile up. It’s a game for her and a blessing for him. 

“Give me your tongue, won’t you?” Mireille purrs and the ashtray complies immediately, of course. He straightens, eager to have received a command –both mindless puppet and loyal mutt–, and holds out his tongue for her. The thought of disobeying her order would never even cross his mind. 

Something about the way he offers up such a vulnerable part of himself without hesitation gives Mireille a rush every single time. She presses the still-glowing cigarette end into the soft but marred flesh. It should cause a visceral reaction, even after the scar tissue must have numbed the nerve ends.

Her servants would whimper and cry in his place. They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves, shaking in anticipation and fear of the pain. Instead, her ashtray barely shudders and keeps his body rigid and still until she is done.

Only then does he lift his eyes to her face, searching for her satisfaction. Just being allowed to look at her is reward enough for her ashtray, and his eyes shimmer with devotion. When she graces him with a smile, he vibrates with excitement and joy. 

She lifts her hand to his head and pets him and the ashtray all but presses into her touch, content with a job well done. That’s the difference between her servants and her ashtray. He is looking forward to getting burned by her, there is nothing in the whole wide world that he’d rather do.

“You really are enjoying this, huh? Do you actually think I care about you? That’s so cute.” Mireille smiles.

And her stupid little ashtray just melts under a touch he thinks speaks of mutual affection.

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0 let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

[prettypup-silly]

♡puppy's blog :3♡

♡hii!! welcome!!! for personal reasons, i don't wanna share my name or face here, and i don't do pictures, period. but you can call me :

♡puppy, mutt, doll -(practically any pet name, but i prefer puppy)

♡ mommy :3 @hecateslostlover

MDNI, NO AGE = BLOCKED.

♡20

♡single

♡bisexual

♡femme afab, possibly genderfluid?

♡pronouns - she / they / he(?)

♡dms always open, moots are free to do anything here :3 (i love when people send me asks & dms, it makes me all needy and pliant, all kinds of people teasing poor little puppy😵‍💫)

♡5'3 // 102lbs :3

♡Kinks/Yes : MASOCHISM, voice kink, humiliation, chok1ng, biting, cnc, p3tplay, free use, kn1feplay, bre3ding, size/strength difference, orgasm control/denial, overstim, restraint, hair pulling, spit, praise, degradation, monster fucking, somno, intox [weed, alcohol], edging, (oral fixation), inspection (possibly more)

♡hard nos!! : piss/scat, rac3play, lactation, v0re, genuine b3ast1ality

[cozzzynook]

Must give Preceptor a spark attack. Hot Rod coming back from playing with the other sparklings with a large supposedly dangerous predator acting like a puppy to him, desperate for head pats and praising.

Oh my gosh i can see this!!!

His innocent little bitty!!

Just coming home covered in dirt and smiling as he walks carefully with a tiny tiny servo on a cyberwolf that was extremely huge in comparison and trotting alongside his bitty who kept his spark wires clean.

“Carrier, look! I made a new friend! I named him Brew! He likes me,” his bitty happily giggled, rubbing his servo carefully along surprisingly clean fur. The mutt sat next to his sparkling looking around on guard and made no move to leave his bitty and when Perceptor was close enough he snatched his bitty away and used himself as a shield only for the mutt to look at him with a flat expression and roll their optics.

The mutt just huffed and trotted close and stood on hind paws to lick at Hot rods palm and leg to get the dirt off and Perceptor was just bewildered at the sight.

Cyberwolves were not known to act like this or be kind for good reason, it was mechs and femmes fault he understood, so he was completely shocked his bitty managed to befriend one.

“This…Brew…where did you meet him?”

“Woods, by da lake. He tackle da mech hiding in da bush.”

His bitty was so small and innocent, he didn’t have a clue the danger he was in but the mutt…

He looked to the mutt who was back on all fours and standing guard while wagging his tail a little.

“You protect my sparkling, I let you stay in my house and see my bitty.”

The dog looked at him as if he were going to do that anyway and he was exasperated by it but…anyone protecting his sparkling, he would tolerate.

Later on when his bitty and the wolf were clean, he made the daycare sitters cry with how vicious he cursed them out and let the other creators know what happened.

Honestly. Allowing his sparkling and a small group of them wander off the property to the lake behind the building in the woods alone was just unforgivable. Especially since his sparkling had a spark condition that made him worry sick every klik of the day.

The wolf was surprisingly a good sitter and loved attention from his bitty. Always eager for scratches and licked Hot rod clean of dirt and stood guard. He didn’t mind the wolf sleeping with him and his bitty because the wolf curled up on Hot rods other side and was very alert.

Be it Hot rod needing medical help, he was beyond grateful the wolf could sense those things, to the wolf waking one night when an intruder tried to break in.

They were in for quite the surprise when Brew ran out the door and bit their leg clean off and tried to eat them.

He would’ve let them..if he weren’t worried about his sparkling seeing it.

The wolf was a wolf after all and the mech shouldn’t have broken in.

Perceptor ended up falling in love with the cyberwolf and found himself giving the mutt treats and high quality mesh and metallico. The mutt was far too spoiled and sassy, but he liked them that way and so did Hot rod.

-

I 100% made the wolf like a husky. I love them.

[fxgdxkemutt]

i need to call a femme mommy. like in a power imbalance humiliating way. please

[goodboypuppy489]

anyway if you've ever sent me nudes or threats just know I've scrolled back to them and masturbated to them at least a few times (yes every one)

[t-boyf4g]

Minors and ageless blogs fuck off <3

Hey whores! You can call me Niko, Mutt, Puppy, Bunny, Dog, Faggot, whatever you prefer. I'm a genderfluid transmasc autistic switch whore <3 my pronouns are generally he/they/it but very rarely I like she/her. I'm 20 years old. This account is solely for me to have horny ramblings and repost hot shit. I might do anons at some point if I feel confident.

I'm single and not really looking, I have a crush on a guy so I'm trying to be a good dog about it

You can call my body basically whatever you want, tits, cunt, pussy, tdick, clit, hole, boobs, idgaf. I like most compliments too

Now onto the good stuff

YES YES YES:

BDSM, Cnc, petplay, omorashi, impact play, breeding/pregnancy (no birth), hucow, monster fucking, somno (if I'm dom), exhibitionism, public sex, grinding/humping things, wax play, cumflation, degradation, praise, biting/hickeys, edging, overstimulation, daddy/mommy in title only, crying, body worship

Meh, Depends:

Forcemasc/femme, consensual drugging, blood

Hard Fcking No:

Feet (I have a phobia), detrans kink, feedism/weight gain, abdl/ddlg and variants, fauxest/incest, gore, somno (if I'm sub), scat, emeto, raceplay, vore, necrophilia, beastiality/k9 kink

That's it, I'm not gonna tag this it's just for me to pin, I'll update it when I need to. If you post shit on my "bad" section or are a minor, block me

[duskier]

Put myself on anon for this one because I am SHY, but I wanted to know...does your oc Clara have any weird/niche kinks?

OH YAY CLARA QUESTION!!

She is a closet sadist for sure, not in an extreme sense but just that she likes the idea of a girl who is into getting hurt trusting her with it. Likes how it can be something intimate and tender, violence without aggression.

She's both a sub and a dom however when she's subbing and topping she's always wanted a girl to treat her like a dog about it. She's so embarrassed so she would never ask but she wants to be collared and leashed and fuck a pretty femme into the mattress while her girl yanks on her chain and calls her a filthy mutt.

I feel like she's got a huge fetish for tongues/spit. Like French kissing sloppily will actually get her going in less than three seconds but she could do it until her lips are numb and her skins irritated!! She sees a picture of a girl sticking her tongue out (not ahegao, never that) with drool coming out and suddenly she's squeezing her thighs together.

[starlightsearches]

Hysteria was so good omfg….. so good in fact it could be a lil series 👀 Would you consider doing a part 2 please? If not, that’s okay!! :)

Hysteria pt. 2

Part 1 Here

Thank you so much, my love!! I really hoped that this would just be a two-parter, but what i have here has already taken me AGES and i wanted to give the final smut all the attention it deserved. let me know what you think pwease!!

Eddie Munson x Femme Cheerleader! Reader

Requests are always open! Comments and reblogs make my day 💖

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, RC is not a nice person, Eddie is also not nice but RC probably deserves it, infidelity, a very bad relationship between RC and her boyfriend, lots of mentions of fucking but no sex in this part, some delicious fucking ANGST!!!!, threats of violence and drama, bad bitches having a hard time talking about their feelings, you'll probably want to read the other part first but i'm not a cop.

You should not be staring at Eddie Munson. Especially not in the middle of the cafeteria. 

But you can't take your eyes off of him. Not because of the way his frizzy hair catches the light like a halo, or how he's smiling wide enough that you can see his dimples from the other side of the room, torso stretched long over the edge of the table. It's not because you know how the little hollow spaces around his mouth feel against your skin.

It's what he's got caught between his fingers that has you tripping over your feet to get to him.

A shiny white polaroid picture.

Somebody was talking to you—one of the girls from the squad blabbing in your ear about fuck all as you step into the crowded lunch room. You don't even mumble out an excuse, pushing past the bodies in your way, ignoring the glares that follow you all the way to the freak table.

"Give me that."

Eddie's passed the photo to one of his friends, and that's who you snatch it from. He's a freshman, clearly, with a mop of curly brown hair covered in a dorky looking baseball cap. He lets out a soft cry of protest; you silence him with a look.

But you're not in the photo. Nobody is in the photo. 

You were expecting something explicit—expected to see your own fucked-out body spread on his sheets, his rings glinting where they laid against your cheek and his spit smeared across the insides of your thighs. You expected a picture that would have you dripping through the cotton panties you were wearing. You were expecting some kind of thrill to know that Eddie had been looking at it where anybody could see it. 

So the reality is a little jarring. 

It's a polaroid of a fucking dog.

Not even a cute dog—a little mutt, laying on its belly in the dry grass, washed out in the bright sun. A waste of fucking film, if you didn’t know what it was really for. 

Your mouth presses into a tight line, lips pinched between your teeth, and you keep your gaze down, unsure what will happen if you look Eddie in the eyes when you’re feeling so insane. 

Now is not the time to laugh so hard you’d snort, or rip his throat out with your teeth for getting under your skin. Now is not the time to fall all over him like you’ve been fucking craving. 

None of the boys at the table are brave enough to make a sound when you look up—not even Eddie, although he wears quite the grin.

It takes more than one deep breath before you feel safe enough to speak.

"Cute, Munson,” you deflect, popping a hip as you flip the photo back in his direction, “I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"Don't worry, princess,” he smiles, cocky as all hell, “we're not exclusive."

Somebody laughs. It’s a high-pitched, nervous little giggle that sticks out amid all the heavy silence of listening ears. Eddie leans back in his seat, hands cupped behind his head the same way he had the night you went to his trailer. Echoes of the same shivers he’d pulled from you brush across your skin. 

You want to say something biting. You open your mouth, ready for it, and nothing comes out. Eddie's shirt has ridden up a little, a thin sliver of pale skin revealed beneath his black t-shirt. Maybe even the edge of a tattoo.

Fuck.

He sees where you're staring. He could call attention to it, if he wanted—people at the nearby tables are all waiting to watch shit go down—but Eddie doesn't say anything. His cheeks grow a little pinker.

"What's going on, baby?"

Double fuck.

Connor’s here. You feel his thick arm squeezing possessively around your waist, tightening like a snake sizing up its meal. Your whole body goes still. 

“Hey, babe.”

Your boyfriend smiles in a way he probably thinks is charming, and one meaty finger steers your head in his direction. You're given no warning before his tongue is in your mouth, cracked lips brushing clumsily over yours.

Fuck. Fuck. A millions times fuck.

You slip your hands behind his head, out of view. You don't want anybody to notice the way your fingers curl into fists, nails digging against your palms as you count down the seconds until he stops touching you—pretending to kiss him back and pretending to like it even as your throat and stomach burn. 

Eddie’s noticed. You can tell the second you look at him, his brows divoted towards each other, gaze twitching between your tightly-balled fists and Connor’s sneer. 

“What’re you doing talking to these pricks, babe?” Connor asks you, totally ignoring Eddie and his friends. You shouldn’t roll your eyes at him—shouldn’t make it obvious that you’re growing a little tired of the prom king attitude—so you freeze your expression like plasticine, and keep all the hate on the inside. 

You hand him the polaroid between your fingers, put on a bitchy exterior that doesn’t look much different from your normal exterior. 

“Eddie was just showing us all his new girlfriend.”

Connor squints at the photo, huffing a dumb little laugh from between his lips. You’ve set him up for about a thousand good punchlines. Of course he goes for the most obvious. 

“Finally found a bitch who’s willing to fuck you?” Connor asks, tossing the picture at Eddie.

It smacks against his chest before falling pathetically to the floor; Eddie doesn’t move an inch, eyes on the ceiling, jaw tight. But everybody hears him when he mutters, “not the only bitch.” 

Then his gaze slides to you.

Oh. fucking. shitting. bitchfuck. The surrounding tables go silent, and then burst into activity, filling the room with little murmurs. You watch the stunned looks change, realization blinking on expressions like a string of Christmas lights, feeling every pair of eyes crawling over your skin.

Connor’s breath is hot and heavy in your ear, and he explodes in a rush of movement, gripping the collar of Eddie’s jacket in both meaty fists.

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Connor! Jesus.”

He shrugs you off where you grab at him, his elbow hitting hard enough in your chest that you fall back a few steps. You rub at the spot with your palm, forced to watch like everybody else.

And even though Connor’s got him in a grip tough enough to keep his feet off the ground, it takes Eddie a generous second to rip his eyes from you. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, freak,” Connor spits right in his face, “or what kind of shit you’ve been smoking, but you better watch it. ‘Cause there’s no way a girl like mine would ever want a greasy little prick like you within a mile of her.” 

And Eddie could ruin everything for you in this one shining second. You can almost see it—the smirk of his lips as he tells Connor, tells everyone, about how he made you fucking scream for him, how you begged on hands and knees for the freak of Hawkins to fuck you, and how he refused.

But he doesn't. And, to his credit, Eddie's hardly phased by Connor’s random outburst. He keeps his face neutral, raising his hands in surrender.

“Hey man, listen—I didn’t mean anything by it,” Eddie tells him, and it’s only a little bitchy, “promise.”  

The cafeteria wouldn’t be quieter if it were empty, all eyes on the freak table and your boyfriend and the guy you can’t stop thinking about fucking. 

After a tense second, Connor’s grip loosens on Eddie’s jacket. Maybe he believes what Eddie told him. Or maybe he’s just remembered that if he got suspended again, coach would bench him for the rest of the season. 

“Stay away from her, got it?”—he steps away with a final threat—“or I’ll bash your fucking head in.” 

Connor yanks you away with a hand at your bicep, and your fingers are numb when they curve around his jacket sleeve. It’s like he hardly feels you there, all deep, heavy breaths and poisonous stares back over his shoulder. You want to look back, too. But you know better.

“I’m gonna kill that fucking freak, swear to god,” he tells you.

And he means it. 

You skip fifth period. 

Nobody even looks your way when you push past the clanky metal doors into the pale sunshine, probably passively assuming you’re on your way to hotbox in the parking lot or make out under the bleachers—which, to be fair, you’d done before. But you don’t stop walking when you reach any of your usual hiding spots, past the goal post at the far end of the football field and into the damp leaves beyond the tree line.

It’s quiet out here. Which only makes more room for your racing thoughts, rattling through the leaves and dead brush that soften your footsteps to an almost silence.

But you're not sure where you're headed. Guys talked about it all the time—the picnic table in the middle of the woods where Eddie did business—but none of them ever brought their girlfriends with them.

You thought it was because Eddie was a creep, that Connor was protecting you from his dealer’s lewd comments and stares when he left you alone in his Jeep every time he went to go buy. 

But the way he looked back in the cafeteria, how easy it was for him to grab at Eddie and how unphased Eddie had been by it all . . .

Maybe your safety wasn't even on Connor's radar.

Luckily, the journey to the table is a straight shot through the woods. One second there's nothing but green leaves and branches in every direction, and the next you're stepping on beer cans and candy bar wrappers at the edge of a clearing.

It's about as underwhelming as you pictured it. A dinky old picnic table in a sea of flattened, molding leaves. Piles of them lift beneath your shoes, releasing the smell of damp earth into the air with each step.

Might as well sit while you wait.

The slats dig into your ass, not that that matters. You'll sit here all night if you have to. You can peel the splinters from your cheeks later.

Your fingers run along the scratches on the table's surface, names in hearts and gossip from two, three years ago, maybe more—all overlapping and criss-crossing until you can't read any of them.

Except for one, near the edge. Eddie's name is carved deep with repeated wear, the lines black and thick enough to snag at your fingers when you trace at his clumsy scrawl.

Ugh, fuck him. This dickhead makes you cum one time (or more—whatever) and now he’s got you thinking in metaphors. 

The waiting doesn't take away any of your worry—just multiplies it, like you've got to make enough to fill all this empty space, have to send some of it back to Hawkins High and keep a cushion between Eddie and his obvious death wish.

Maybe Connor wouldn't beat the shit out of Eddie at school, but there were plenty of places he and his friends could corner a loner.

Places without witnesses. Places with a lot of beer and their own cheers multiplying off echoey walls.

Places where there'd be nothing to make them stop.

“I’m not gonna fuck you out here, if that’s what you were thinking.”

" Jesus,"—you jump, and a few more splinters implant themselves on your landing—"Eddie."

He's standing at the edge of the clearing like you summoned him—thought his name one too many times and he appeared by magic.

If that worked, though, he'd have showed up in your bedroom every night for the past week. And your shower. Maybe at least once during your math class.

"I would be kind of hot, though," he continues without meeting your eyes as he wanders over to the table, fidgeting with his rings. You swallow the lump in your throat when he curls his thick fingers under the table top, giving an experimental thrust of his hips.

Eddie wears a cool look when the table wobbles, metal supports groaning from the movement. "But I don't think she could take it."

"Eddie—"

It's like you hadn't said anything. He’s on a roll, rubbing a hand over the uneven stubble on his jaw, considering the options with his hip popped.

"I've always wanted to fuck someone on the edge of a table, though. Think your boyfriend would come looking for you out here?"

"Eddie."

A smirk blooms across his face. "What do you think he’d do if he found me balls deep in your pretty pussy?"

"Eddie—"—you slam your palm on the table, make him look you in the eyes—“stop.”

Whether you wanted him to or not, he listens. Maybe it's too bad. You were kind of hoping to hear more about the whole fucking on the edge of the table thing.

Eddie's arms cross over his chest, jaw jutting toward you.

You're stunned silent for a second. He's actually gonna stop talking long enough for you to speak.

"You- you can't pull shit like that again."

Eddie plops down into the seat across from you, hands clasped together, wearing this look of false innocence.

"To what shit are you referring?"

"Fuck, Eddie," you reach out for emphasis, "this is serious."

You're surprised by the feel of his hands—the soft heat of his skin and smooth contours of his veins—even though you're the one who reached for him, fingers slipping under the edge of his sleeve and circling his wrist.

His expression softens, big eyes getting bigger, pink tongue sandwiched between his lips. You're not even thinking about the way you felt the last time he had his tongue pressed to your skin. Just touching him like this has your heart pounding.

You slip your hand back, palm flat to the wood. "You can't antagonize Connor like that, okay? He's fucking crazy."

"Uh, I was trying to antagonize you. Your boyfriend showed up uninvited."

You want to laugh, but that would give him the wrong idea. "Well, you shouldn't be antagonizing me, either."

Eddie kicks his feet up onto the bench, hopping on the table top so he can lean in close. “Probably not, sweetheart. But have you ever thought maybe you shouldn’t have a boyfriend who’s, uh— I don’t know—fucking crazy?”

He tries so hard to look nonchalant, but you’re picking up on the signals. The shake in his hands and the twitching muscle in his jaw. 

Oh, god. He's fucking serious. As serious as you've ever seen Eddie get.

The breeze blowing through the clearing sets goosebumps across your arms. “I can handle Connor, okay? But you have to stay the fuck away from him.”

Eddie rests his chin on his hand, pursing his lips together. “What if I don’t, sweetheart? You gonna punish me?”

Jesus Christ, he’s stubborn. He’s a lot of other things, too, but you gotta focus on the stubbornness right now or you’re gonna end up bent over the table.

Eddie’s eyes go wide when you don't respond, hand dropping away from his face.

“Oh my god. Are you, like, actually worried about me?"

It’s the way he says it—like you weren’t even human to him until now, like he can hardly believe you’re capable of feeling anything but apathy or rage. 

And it shouldn't hurt. You didn't climb to the top of the social ladder of Hawkins High by caring what every dumbass guy whispered behind your back. Or what they said to your face.

You had skin like armor, and normally a comment like that wouldn't even make a dent.

So why do you feel like crying?

“Fuck you, Eddie.” 

You're up from the table before the look of surprise solidifies on Eddie’s face, already into the trees when he catches up with you. It doesn’t matter, anyways. He’s already seen it.

You care about Eddie. You care about the freak. And you don’t want to see him get hurt because of you.

“Hey—” Eddie catches you with a hand at your wrist, circling it in his big, warm grasp, “shit, don’t—”

You throw his hand off you, wild, too big for your body. “Don’t what, Eddie?”

You're just so fucking tired of this. Of thinking about him all the time. It's like you're drowning. Wanting Eddie Munson is going to kill you.

“Don’t-” he stares at the tips of your white Keds, digs his own shoes into the dirt, “don’t go back to him.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laugh at him, harsh and mean because maybe that’s who you are at your core. “And you and I can live out our Litte House on the Prarie shit here in the fucking woods? He’s gonna come looking for me, Eddie. He already wants to kill you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

You know what he meant. You can see it in his big, brown eyes, the way he’s fucking terrified to look at you. And he’s probably right to be, after everything you’ve done.

Whatever. Fuck this. Fuck your feelings and his pretty baby cow eyes and anything else that made you believe that things could be better.

“Did Tommy invite you to his party Friday?”

Eddie kicks a clump of leaves in your general direction. “I’m always invited to Tommy’s parties.”

That’s not true. You’re always invited to Tommy’s parties. Eddie’s always invited to deal. There's a difference.

You wrap your arms over your chest, fighting off the chill from a gust of wind that isn't there.

“Don’t go."

Jesus, you sound needy. Needy and weak.

Eddie scoffs. “Are you fucking serious? I make, like, a month’s worth of gas money selling to Tommy and his stupid friends—”

And would get the ever-living shit kicked out of him if Connor saw him there.

You stomp towards him, ending up chest to chest, your words coming out harsh through your teeth.

"I will buy you out."

Eddie's lips part with a soft pop, eyes tracing your face. You can't tell if he's offended that you've offered him money (which was kind of a dick move, if you’re being honest), his expression—normally so easily decodable—coolly masked.

Okay,” he says, pausing, like this is just some deal, "while we’re making demands . . . break up with your boyfriend.”

“Eddie . . .”

You can’t remember the last time you felt like this—throat tight and raw, barely balancing on the knife’s edge of tears. It’s been a long time since you’ve cried over a stupid, fucking boy.

You wish Eddie was just another stupid fucking boy. 

He shoves his hands deep in his pockets, staring up through the leaves. “Just- think about it, okay?” 

And he walks off without looking back. 

tagging: @dotslabyrinth

[veryqueermovies]

Upcoming Queer Shows and Films! Most of these are TBD because of the Writers Strike but these will hopefully be coming out within the next year. The upcoming Queer shows list is lacking because it's actually hard to find out about upcoming shows.. especially finding if a show that's not even out yet is Queer. This is also not every Queer Film and Show coming out soon this is just what I could find within a few hours of searching. I also added Renewed Queer Shows because we need that in our lives..

Upcoming Queer Films: 🏳️‍🌈

Theater Camp (July 13th)

Kokomo City (July 28th)

Passages (August 4th)

Red, White & Royal Blue (August 11th)

Mutt (August 18th)

Bottoms (August 25th)

Rustin (TBD)

Good Grief (TBD)

My Animal (TBD)

Eileen (TBD)

Femme (TBD)

Ganymede (TBD)

I Wish You All The Best (TBD)

Aristotle & Dante Discover The Secrets Of The Universe (TBD)

The Old Guard 2 (TBD)

New Queer Films Out Now: 🏳️‍🌈

Nimona (Netflix)

Fanfic (Netflix)

Eldorado (Netflix)

Jagged Mind (Hulu)

Romeo And Isabella (Prime Video/Tubi)

Remembering His Touch (Prime Video)

Nelly & Nadine (Prime Video)

Monica (Prime Video)

The Neighbor (Prime Video)

The Stroll (Max)

Upcoming Queer Shows: 🏳️‍🌈

Fellow Travelers (Coming this Fall)

Gen V (TBD)

Untitled Queer Ghost Hunting Series by Kristen Stewart (TBD)

Newer Shows With Queer Characters Out Now: 🏳️‍🌈

Glamorous (Netflix)

Class (Netflix)

Fake Profile (Netflix)

Wolf Pack (Paramount+)

School Of Lies (Disney+)

With Love (Prime)

XO, Kitty (Netflix)

Renewed Queer Shows: 🏳️‍🌈

What We Do In The Shadows: Season 5 (July 13th)

The Dragon Prince Mystery Of Aaravos: Season 5 (July 27th)

Good Omens: Season 2 (July 28th)

Heartstopper: Season 2 (August 3rd)

Only Murders In The Building: Season 3 (August 8th)

Loki: Season 2 (October 6th)

Yellowjackets: Season 3 (TBD)

Young Royals: Season 3 (TBD)

A League Of Their Own: Season 2 (TBD)

Warrior Nun: Season 3 (TBD)

The Last Of Us: Season 2 (TBD)

Our Flag Means Death: Season 2 (TBD)

The Sandman: Season 2 (TBD)

Alert Missing Persons Unit: Season 2 (TBD)

Fire Country: Season 2 (TBD)

9-1-1: Season 7 (TBD)

9-1-1 Lone Star: Season 5 (TBD)

Interview With The Vampire: Season 2 (TBD)

Chucky: Season 3 (TBD)

The Sex Lives Of College Girls: Season 3 (TBD)

The Newsreader: Season 2 (TBD)