#the little one is Hendrix

[baconandvibrators]

Y’all my bestie’s partner is a vet tech and they have 3 dogs and now 2 cats and this summer has been just so many animal cuddle puddles and I could not be living my best life anymore than this

[dizzybizz]

mostly jrwi riptide but also @bardace's oc forts is here

[mickdalena]

i like to think peter tork had a crush on every man he ever spoke to

[leporinelou]

i like to imagine billy’s mom in that childhood au to be someone who wears colorful clothes and has every room in her house be a bright color because it makes her happy, who dresses billy in colorful clothes too and encourages him to express and stand up for himself, who has a garden full of flowers and paints in her spare time, who has pictures of her and billy strewn throughout the house, who smokes marlboro reds and dances with billy in the living room while her records play, who loves her kid so so much and would do anything for him

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Book Haul: Consolation Prizes Edition.

So I did Not make it to the finalist round for that first page contest I submitted to last month, but I did get boba and two (2) books about it, so who's the real winner here?? These both came VERY highly recommended, and I'm excited to read them one day that's not any time soon!

[scorpiosbite]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── INTRODUCING POUGE!READER

POUGE!READER grew up on the cut, spent basically all her time at the chateau before it burnt down because she was neighbours with john b, her parents died when she was 13, so the pouges are her only family and big john became her legal guardian, but when big john died she and the pouges all moved in together into the maybank house turned pougelandia. she has a lot of trauma and sadness that she buries deep below. unable to deal with her heavy emotions.

POUGE!READER is an earthy girl, she loves the beach and is often wearing a bikini under her long skirts and tiny tops. she has dainty tattoos littered all over her body, whether it be song lyrics down her spine or star like symbols on her sternum or flowers on her hip. more often than not she’s done them on herself and the pouges. she works at the local tattoo place on the cut.

POUGE!READER loves art, she paints pieces for the house and is always drawing in her sketchbook. she is a ride or die kinda girl, and she’s so sweet, so easy to fall in love with. but don’t ever cross her or come after her friends or family, cause then she has no problem getting her hands dirty.

POUGE!READER loves music, specifically sade, erykah badu, ms lauren hill, the paragons, led zeppelin, frank ocean and jimi hendrix, but she gets down to all kinds of music, she is constantly blasting music in her bust down car that she inherited from her mechanic dad or at home while cooking or painting. loves going on long drives with the top of the car down.

POUGE!READER loves smoking weed and occasionally drinks at parties, but she doesn’t have the best tolerance so weed and alcohol make her super giggly and horny. often leading to the pouges taking care of her.

POUGE!READER is everyone’s parents favourite pouge due to her sweet disposition. heyward often tells her that she’s too sweet to be dragged into the pouge’s bullshit, but don’t think that her sweetness is all she is, more often than not she’s the one getting her hands dirty or talking shit to the kooks.

POUGE!READER who has never had a boyfriend because she’s waiting for the right guy, many have tried their hand time and time again, pouges and kooks alike, but she doesn’t give them the time of day.

POUGE!READER is the prettiest girl on kildare, with her pretty plump lips and big almond shaped eyes, she oozes natural sex appeal but is completely unaware of the hunger she causes, especially in a specific kook. being the youngest in the group, the pouges are extremely protective of her especially the boys who see her as their little sister, but the girls know how dirty minded she really is.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ fics coming soon

about time i wrote for rafe, let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list for these fics!! and let me know what you think of pouge!reader!!

[angelsforthenight]

take care of me…

ellie williams x fem! reader

cw: mdni, modern AU, sub! ellie, dom! reader, loser!ellie, established relationship, use of vibrator, cunnilingus, slight degrading, overstimulation, bush! ellie 🤑, begging, crying, cursing, sub-space, aftercare + some fluff at the end :3

WHAT IS SUB-SPACE? sub-space is an altered state of consciousness that can happen during BDSM play. typically it’s when the bottom gets all high and floaty. subs in subspace may have a higher pain tolerance, have difficulty speaking, and lose all sense of time.

“nn—nnhhh… i can’t— i can’t, y/n, please.” ellie gasps out, on the cusp of release. she feels too much, too overwhelmed by the plethora of different sensations. grabbing your hair for some sort of anchor, her jaw falls slack: pathetic whines and pleasured sobs tumbling from her lips as they melt against the loud humming of the vibrator nudged against her clit. and your mouth only keeps moving.

hold on, run that back. wanna know how you got here?

“babe, i’m not even kidding, i think i ripped out a tastebud.” ellie’s been complaining about this for the entire day, but doing nothing about it. to be frank, it’s been pissing you off a little. ellie could just as well get up and take a look in the mirror for herself, but for some reason she insists on you checking it out.

this isn’t the first time you’ve had to play doctor. don’t get it twisted, it’s cute! having to take care of your girlfriend is a gift you want to keep safe in an enclosed haven. but only when something has actually happened.

when false alarms happen one too many times, it’s only natural you get at least a little annoyed, and you’re very positive that this moment is another one of that case, yet you never seem to get enough. you set the book you were reading down, sitting up on your bed.

“let me see.” you sigh, placing your fingers on her chin, tilting her head up. ellie sticks her tongue out and to no surprise at all, there’s nothing.

“you’re kidding me, right?”

“what? no! i just hurt my tongue so bad trying to shred the guitar!” ellie says defensively.

“well then you’re stupid.” you laugh, “who the hell does that?”

“jimi hendrix does…” she mumbles sullenly, hanging her head low and so very clearly trying to make you pity her and give in. and alas, it’s working.

“stop pouting and come here.” you roll your eyes, even if there’s a hint of a smile on your lips. ellie lights up too, shuffling closer and opening her mouth again.

you scrutinise your stare. it’s a little red, yes, but that’s the entire tip of her tongue. if ellie ripped out a tastebud like she claims she did, she would have at least been bleeding a little bit.

meanwhile, ellie keeps her eyes trained on you. it’s so quiet in the room apart from the whirring fan noises and the sounds of cars driving past every now and then. she likes seeing you all focused, with your attention on nothing else but her. secretly, that’s why she’s always pestering you about meaningless injuries.

“you didn’t tell me where…” you murmur, but you leave no space for her to respond when you clamp her tongue down with your thumb and forefinger; pulling her tongue down a little further so you can get a closer look. the pad of your thumb drags across it to feel something, even if you don’t know what it is you’re really looking for. ellie’s caught off guard by this move. in fact, it projects her into this sudden state of being very aware of what you two are doing, the feel of your fingers in her mouth, on her tongue. she can’t help but fidget, getting distracted.

“don’t move.” you mutter, oblivious to the way ellie’s feeling. that firm command stirs her up even more, her breathing uncontrollably growing heavier. she tries to lock in, but with the way she’s suddenly conscious? horny? fuuuck, it’s difficult. you feel her hot breath fan against your knuckles.

“if you ripped out a tastebud then you would’ve been bleed—“ you trail off in the middle of your sentence when you glance up at ellie. her cheeks are a light shade of pink, prominent even under the warm amber glow of your bedroom lamp lights. her eyebrows are arched upwards, staring at you with this helpless look on her face. she looks so, undeniably pathetic. surprised, you let go of her tongue.

ellie looks away, wiping her mouth with her fist. you realise she’s very faintly trembling.

“ellie…” you murmur softly.

“what are we gonna have for dinner, by the way? you cooked yesterday but i’m very shit at cooking so we could order door-dash but at the same time we did door-dash the day before yesterday and the day before-before so..” she begins to ramble, clearly flustered and embarrassed. you smile.

“ellie.” you say again, taking her hands in yours. she pauses, staring at you. her chest heaves, eyes all big and yielding.

“let’s do this again, ‘kay? wanna tell me what you really want?” you say slowly, and the way your tone is soft makes ellie’s head feel foggy. she takes a deep breath, which almost sounds like a whine.

“i… um…” ellie’s always had trouble communicating what she wants. she avoids your gaze, trying to find the right words to say. she feels like a glop of slime, slowly melting. you give her an encouraging smile, brushing your thumb against the back of her palm in repeated back and forth motions.

“i want you… to, um— i need you to take care of me.” her voice crackles with neediness, urgency laced in her tone. her lips are quivering. you can tell how bad she wants this, but you can’t help but prod her some more.

“take care of you how? lots of ways i can do that.” your voice is consistently soft, almost cooing. ellie’s mind keeps on slipping into this hazy state, lips quivering and eyes half-slits.

“y-you know. i don’t have to tell you…”

“damn right you do.” you tut. “you’re gonna use your words and tell me what you want. i’m not inside your brain now, am i?” the slight change in tone makes ellie flinch, as she’d quite frankly die before disappointing you. you can literally see the cogs in her head moving, calculating what to say so that you’re able to give her what she wants and simultaneously not being bad.

her eyebrows arch again, subtly scooting even closer to you so that her knees are pressed directly against yours.

“can we… uh… like, have sex? like you touching me and stuff?” she whispers, as if somebody else could hear. you initially try to stifle in your laughter, but it slips out.

“oh yeah? how do you want it?” you giggle, amused by the way ellie’s fumbling over her words and constructing her sentences in this weird, adorable way. ellie scowls, not finding this the least bit funny.

“stop laughing at me.”

“how do you want it?” you repeat, grinning.

“i don’t know, you can do anything you want… just… please. i need to cum.” ellie groans, but it sounds more like a helpless mewl. you stare at her whilst ellie fidgets in her seat, eyes repeatedly flicking between your eyes, your lips and your lap. you can’t help but ‘awww’ in pity.

“anything, yeah? don’t hold your word against me, okay?” you raise your brows, expecting a response. ellie shudders in excitement.

“okay.”

so next thing you know, you two are kissing whilst ellie’s propped up on your lap. you’re aware of how she's grinding on you; trying to give herself flickers of stimulation. you let it happen, occasionally teasing her by bucking your own hips up. whenever you do so, ellie has a hard time kissing you back, losing composure and moaning in your mouth. it’s the hottest thing.

you pull away so you can marvel at the look on ellie’s face; quietly panting for breath whilst she stares at you with the most pliant look. so malleable it’s as if you could bend her into anything you wanted with just a command.

you smush your lips against hers again, only you’re more greedy this time: pushing forwards so you both drop onto the bed. you intertwine your fingers with hers, peppering wet kisses on her neck. the way your lips tug on her skin compiles ellie into mush, with no thoughts running through her head. she whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as her back arches, chest against chest. you continue to administer neck-kisses, leaving a few selfish marks whilst your free hand slowly inches it’s way towards ellie’s pants, tugging it down. ellie’s in her own world: wriggling free from the confines of her sweatpants as her head lolls against the pillow. next, your hand quietly reaches for the drawer. ellie’s eyes are closed, so she doesn’t realise when you pull out a vibrator with the head of a cute bear. you bite your lip, stifling in your amused excitement when you press the machine against ellie’s clothed cunt. ellie harshly gasps, eyes flying open before groaning.

“oh, i fucking hate you…” she laughs, head plopping back down, “you just had… to go for the— stupid bear one…” her words keep on getting broken up by moans slipping out.

“do you like this?” you grin. a wet spot slowly fades in the centre of ellie’s underwear. ellie whines when you heighten the setting. “yes or no?”

“yes….” ellie squeaks. “can we… t-take… aaah…” ellie’s having a hard time speaking with the vibrator flush against her. her underwear is growing wetter and wetter, outlining her vulva clearly. her stomach tightens.

“hmmmm?” ellie’s thighs twitch in delight at the sensation, back arching as she seeks out for more.

“my underwear… take it off, please.” she gasps out, her entire body buzzing. you turn the vibrator off so she has time to breathe, deciding to be nice for now: serving as a prior make-up for how much you’re going to ruin the poor girl. that’s why you do what she’s asked of you, slowly pulling off her undies. ellie shivers at the way it rolls down her legs, twitching at the air fanning her now bare cunt. your place your hand at the top of her mound, fingers spreading through her pubes as your thumb grazes against her folds, slightly opening it and watching as the juices eagerly flow out. you unconsciously lick your lips, pupils darkening. ellie watches you and blushes.

“you’re this needy? just ‘cuz of the tongue thing?” you taunt whilst ellie whines in response. you dip your head in between her legs, tongue flicking out to get a taste. “ohhhh my god, yesyesyesyes…” ellie whispers. you’re hungry, munching on her pussy like you’ve been starving for damn near weeks. ellie’s back flies off the bed, her hands desperately gripping the sheets.

“pathetic…” you mumble, and ellie moans at the way the word thrums against her pussy, sending vibrations in her entire body. her moans unabashedly rip out of her lips at the way you kiss and suck her heat. the frenzy consumes her, as her body jerks uncontrollably. to induce the cruelty, you suddenly pause: an idea flicking through your head like a light bulb.

“i’m really gonna mess you up. sorry, baby…” you murmur but ellie couldn’t care any less, so goddamn needy for release she’ll accept anything you give her. you grab the discarded bear-head and press down against her clit, the setting even higher than last time. it elicits loud reactions from ellie, helpless whimpers tumbling from her lips as she receives thrum after thrums of pleasure.

to make matters (better) worse, you resume your pussy-licking, so ellie can feel both the vibrator and your lips on her mound. ellie cries out, thighs instinctively trying to close themselves up. your hand firmly presses down on her thigh, keeping them open.

“nn—nnhhh… i can’t— i can’t, y/n, please.” ellie gasps out, on the cusp of release. she feels too much, too overwhelmed by the plethora of different sensations. grabbing your hair for some sort of anchor, her jaw falls slack: pathetic whines and pleasured sobs tumbling from her lips as they melt against the loud humming of the vibrator nudged against her clit. and your mouth only keeps moving.

you’re putting the work in, going to town on her and really fucking her up. thick tears stream down her face from how insanely good it all feels, her entire body twitching and jolting. your tongue laps strongly, whilst the vibrator is on the highest setting it can be. ellie’s bordering on becoming animalistic, letting out grunts and loud moans.

“g-gonna cum.. —cumming, i’m cumming..” ellie babbles pathetically, seldom coherent. jolting sharply, she grips your hair tightly, in which you groan from the slight pain, as you feel her warm juices flowing in your mouth. ellie pants as you turn the bear-head off, lifting your head up to glance at ellie.

you did succeed in breaking the hell out of her. there’s a heavy, dazed look written across her face; eyes glazed-over and as if she’s not really here. she looks boneless yet plush. you lift yourself up, gazing at her softly. it’s understandable she’s entered into sub-space after what they’ve just done.

“oh, baby…” you whisper, lifting her up so you two are sitting. ellie complies silently, weakly wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in the crook of your neck. there is no train of thought running through her head, and it’s almost as if she’s unconscious whilst fully awake. you run your fingers through her hair, kissing her head.

“my sweet girl… you did so good. so proud of you.” you whisper in her ear. ellie hums in response, burying her face even more. she’s all blissed out, liking the way the tip of your nails dance across her scalp. it makes her feel safe, but most of all loved.

hours later, when you two do end up ordering door-dash for the third time this week, ellie ends up flatly denying the state she had been in earlier.

“nope. no idea what you’re talking about.” she says, yet unable to hide her sheepish smile.

a/n: my singular contribution to kinktober 🧎‍♀️also i am a suuuuucker for sub! ellie like i was so giggly writing this!!! lmk if u were too (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)!!

[feeder86]

Fixing the Feeder

“Who’s that?” Hendrix asked his new friends as he gazed around the gay venue he was visiting for the first time. Having recently moved here for his job, Hendrix had arrived alone that night and quickly started introducing himself to the group of men who seemed most likely to visit the club on a regular basis. The guy he was asking about was clearly very attractive, with a tall, slender frame and pretty face. However, that wasn’t the reason why Hendrix’s interest had been piqued. It was the fact that such a handsome guy stood all alone and, unless Hendrix had been very much mistaken, he’d just seen him checking out a couple of the softer chubs in the corner.

Collectively, the guys all pulled a face. “That’s Felix!” one replied. “We don’t talk to him.”

Hendrix’s face lit up with intrigue; the cogs in his head were already whirring.

“He dated Lee, one of our friends,” another explained to Hendrix. “He was already quite a big guy, but he absolutely ballooned when he was with Felix.”

“And you think Felix was the reason for that?” Hendrix asked, pleased that his predictions had been exactly right.

“Definitely!” jumped in another. “We could all see what he was up to, with his cream cakes and fast food. Then, the moment we convinced Lee to go for the gastric band, Felix finished with him, just like that!”

“Oh, really?” Hendrix asked, taking another look over at the pretty boy in question. “That’s not cool,” he agreed. “So you think he’s a feeder, huh?”

“We know he’s a feeder,” came the swift reply. “And now everyone else does. He can’t hide it any more.”

“So you’re able to warn those you see him getting close to?” Hendrix smirked, knowing that he had chosen the exact right people to make friends with that night in order to learn all he could about the crowds in here.

“Absolutely!” they all nodded, like a team of justice warriors; their cold stares fixed firmly on Felix; the enemy walking amongst them.

“Well, well… it sucks to be you!” Hendrix chuckled as he headed to the bar an hour or so later and caught Felix on his own once more. He smirked at the guy, knowing he himself had already picked up the number of a deliciously doughy-looking chub he’d seen Felix staring longingly at earlier. “You’re about as popular as herpes around here,” he stated without sympathy.

“It won’t last forever,” Felix replied, seeming to instinctively know that he was talking with a kindred spirit after eyeballing Hendrix flirting with the fat boy he had been so keen on. “People soon forget these things.”

Hendrix couldn’t help but laugh at Felix’s naivety. “I don’t think they do,” he scoffed. “Dumping your boyfriend because he was going for a gastric band? You exposed yourself to everyone,” he explained unsympathetically. “Sure, they may have had suspicions before about you being a feeder, but you made damn sure to give them the final nail to seal your coffin.”

Felix grunted bitterly, but he couldn’t deny the truth of what Hendrix was saying. “So, that means more fat boys for you then, huh?” he asked. “Your biggest competition has been eliminated from the game.”

Smirking once more, Hendrix looked Felix up and down. Yes, the boy was handsome, but it was Hendrix’s upper body strength that made sure he never lost out when it came to picking up the guys he wanted. Felix thought of himself as his competition? In Hendrix’s experience, guys always chose the ‘muscle stud’ over the ‘pretty boy’ every time. He collected his drinks, heading straight back to the fat boy he planned to take home later, looking back over his shoulder to ensure that Felix was watching as he placed a hand on the chub’s deliciously soft, under-exercised butt: the first of many fatties that he planned to fuck around here.

The next day, Hendrix squirted a little extra aftershave on himself as he got ready for his new job. He already knew that he was going to smash it. He’d consistently been the most successful car salesman since his second month at the last dealership he’d worked at. Now, moving up to the higher end of the market, the commission he was about to start earning would at last give him the life he deserved. Tight pants never hurt, nor shirts that showed off his excellent muscular physique. It was a fine balance, making himself look handsome enough to attract the female market, yet with a clear muscular athleticism that would encapsulate how the male customers aspired to be and ensure that they felt free to talk sports with him as he guided them towards a hefty sale.

Nothing had surprised Hendrix on that first day, apart from the identity of the pretty-looking dude, sitting in the accountancy office. It couldn’t be, surely? Felix, the fallen feeder, worked here too? He’d smirked and shaken the guy’s hand, keeping up the pretense that they had never met before. What a small world they lived in, he laughed to himself, staring back over his shoulder from the main floor and noticing that Felix was staring back through the glass walls that separated him from where the real work happened.

The mechanics in the back were friendly enough, if a little quick to grumble about how the site was managed. But Hendrix was a natural at smooth talk and soon ingratiated himself with them all. Within two hours of being there, he’d made his first sale: a company record.

It wasn’t until Day 4 that the new golden boy, Hendrix, found himself unaccompanied as he grabbed a coffee from the back room. That was when Felix crept in. “Hello again,” the man smiled, as if pleased that they were both able to speak freely at last. “How did things go with the chub after you left on Saturday?”

Hendrix laughed as he poured himself a cup from the machine; of course that was going to be Felix’s first question to him. “Pretty good!” he nodded, turning back around. “That doughy ass took a good pounding and there was plenty of decent back fat to grab onto.” He closed his eyes for a second, emphasising how perfect the memory of it was. “His whole body jiggled beautifully.”

Felix seemed to flush with arousal at the thought, surprised at how immediately open Hendrix was about it all. “Lucky you!” he mumbled.

“The foreplay was nice too,” Hendrix continued. “I squirted a can of cream over places and made him lick it all off,” he boasted. “Let’s just say… fat boy was VERY good at that part!”

“You like to feed them as well?” Felix asked, his eyes alert, as if this was the most important conversation he would have all day.

“Of course,” Hendrix nodded. “It’s rule number one in my book,” he explained. “When you fuck chubs, you’ve always gotta leave them a little bit fatter and softer for the next guy.”

Felix swallowed. “I hope that next guy is me,” he mumbled.

Once again, Hendrix chuckled, patronisingly patting Felix on his butt. “It won’t be!” he smirked. “After your little stunt, all the fatties know to stay well away from you.”

Sighing, it was somehow very obvious that Felix was turned on and frustrated. “I’ve gotta find some way to fix this,” he rambled, seeming as if he might burst if he didn’t get some fat boy action soon.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Hendrix gloated, putting his coffee on the table and throwing his large, muscular body down onto the couch, before fixing his hands at the back of his head and relaxing. “You’re just going to have to move somewhere very far away, where no one knows you,” he teased.

“How jiggly was his butt?” Felix asked next, sitting down with him and keen to return to hearing all about Hendrix’s experience.

“Very!” Hendrix grinned, happy to indulge the horny boy. “Great rippling when I thrusted against it! You know, like those fat boys who don’t do any exercise whatsoever. Although, he wasn’t that used to taking guys as big as me, so he squealed a little bit in places.”

There it was: the little boner pressing against Felix’s pants. He really was every bit as kinky as Hendrix, who smirked at the sight of it. This meant that there was an opportunity to be exploited, should Hendrix play things very carefully…

“We should go for a drink after work; compare notes on the fatties we’ve had,” Hendrix suggested next, already lifting his great body up with a nonchalance that suggested Felix’s answer would mean little to him either way.

“Sure!” Felix shot back, not getting up from the couch and knowing full well that he would have to stay down for a little while longer; until the hardness retreated.

Hendrix had never spoken so openly about his experiences of being with chubs as he did that evening with Felix. He suddenly found that he had a way with words and storytelling that made each and every one of them sound so sexually charged and erotic; he could see Felix hanging on his every word.

“So, he actually ate it all?” Felix laughed, hearing the end to yet another of Hendrix’s kinky tales.

“Of course he did!” Hendrix nodded. “Look at me. Would you deny a stud like me anything if I asked it? He gobbled it all down straight away, then couldn’t button his pants the next day. It was so fucking cute!”

“That’s amazing!” Felix smiled, his eyes full of awe.

Hendrix checked his watch, sighing as if it was getting late. “Shall we sort that out?” he asked casually, pointing down at Felix’s bulging erection that hadn’t gone down all evening.

Felix looked surprised at being asked, yet Hendrix’s tales had wound him up enough that there was no chance of him saying no. He was one of those men who just seemed so much more malleable when he was horny. Soon, he was back at Hendrix’s new place, dropping his pants and relieved to finally have someone stroking his dick at long last.

Hendrix was determined that it shouldn’t be a quick fix, despite how desperate Felix seemed to want to climax, slapping the guy’s hand away each time he seemed to grab his own hardness in an attempt to make himself finish. He could see why the fatties had fallen for him. Felix had a fine body, with cute, pert little glutes that Hendrix knew he would need to stick his dick between soon. It was how he came, twenty minutes later, ploughing his harness into the delighted Felix whilst the guy lay on his front, pressed into the bed. 

After climaxing, Hendrix rolled them both onto their sides, still keeping himself fully erect and inserted. He moved quickly, reaching behind the pillow to where he had stealthily hidden a can of whipped cream. “It’s your turn!” he whispered, knowing just how achingly horny the boy was by that point. He couldn’t see his reaction as he took in the can of cream, but Felix would have been naive if he hadn’t known this was coming. “You know my rule…” Hendrix whispered, inserting the nozzle between the guy’s lips. “If I fuck them, I fatten them.”

There was a click as the fresh can sprang into life. Felix’s submissive mouth was filling with cream whilst Hendrix slid his other large hand up and down the guy’s shaft. This was it: the moment Felix was at last going to be allowed to climax. The boy swallowed and swallowed, desperate for Hendrix to keep on working his erection and not stop. He seemed to intuitively know that every scrap of pleasure Hendrix provided would be conditional upon this one concession of his: swallow the cream down.

Hendrix chuckled, unable to help how amusing he found it all. “Good boy!” he cooed into Felix’s ear as he felt the hardness pulse and almost quiver; the can of whipped cream getting lighter by the second as it was mercilessly pumped down Felix’s throat. There was something so pathetically sexy about the way a guy would relax when this was done; their bodies limp and full of complete unjustified trust in him as Hendrix brought the inevitable explosion closer and closer. Felix whimpered as his erection spluttered and then shot out forcefully across Hendrix’s sheets, making quite the mess. Only the tiniest amount remained in the can, which Hendrix quickly scurried away so that he didn’t see. By the way Felix was looking at him, mouth agape, Hendrix knew that he had just given the guy the best orgasm of his life.

The next day, Hendrix’s only contact with Felix had been to nod at him in mutual appreciation of the very large, deliciously overfed guy who came into the showroom: legs of pure blubber and an ass that was bordering on being too big to be accommodated in the seats of the cars, Hendrix knew that this was a body that they both could drool over. Despite having a sixth sense that the guy didn’t have the money to be a serious buyer, Hendrix indulged the man for a full forty minutes, delaying the inevitable chat about finance options which always sent them running. 

“Why does Felix keep looking over here?” complained one of Hendrix’s new friends at the gay club that weekend. 

“Oh,” smirked Hendrix. “That’ll be me,” he chuckled. “It turns out we’re now colleagues. He works in the finance department of my new showroom.”

“Unlucky you!” growled another. He hadn’t stopped scowling at Felix since he’d first come in.

“He’s developed a bit of a thing for me,” Hendrix went on to explain. “Not that you can blame him!” he winked at them all.

“He’s bad news,” warned Pete, the oldest of the group.

Hendrix nodded in falsely sympathetic agreement. “But I know how to handle guys like Felix. Plus, it might be good to give him a taste of his own medicine…” he laughed, looking squarely at Pete. “Get some revenge for your friend, Lee.”

The guys all leaned in closer; every last one of them. “What were you thinking?”

“No luck this evening?” Hendrix asked half an hour later, strolling over to Felix.

Felix appeared delighted to have Hendrix beside him. He shook his head. “Just the usual chubs,” he replied, without glancing to double check.

“That’s a shame,” Hendrix smiled. “You’ll have to come home with me instead,” he offered, placing his large hand on Felix’s slender butt as if he owned it.

Electricity seemed to crackle in Felix’s eyes. “That doesn’t seem like a bad consolation prize,” he mumbled back, his voice breaking slightly. When Hendrix held out his hand, Felix took it, allowing himself to be led out of the club; completely oblivious to the amount of knowing eyes that were upon him.

“Who the hell is that?” asked Felix, hearing someone knocking at the front door some time later as he made out with Hendix on his couch.

Hendrix lifted himself up and pulled out his wallet to tip the delivery person, returning to Felix’s side holding two large boxes of meat and cheese-filled pizzas. “You know my rule,” he grinned, opening the box and letting out a plume of delicious scents, “If I fuck them, I fatten them…”

Felix raised his eyebrows, as if trying to work out when Hendrix had even had time to order pizzas since they had arrived back at his place. He wriggled nervously in his seat, unsure whether he should lie back or sit up. Meanwhile, Hendrix set to work stimulating the guy’s little dick, ensuring it was pumped and ready for some kinky fun. “Alright… maybe just a bit of pizza,” he conceded. 

In Hendrix’s experience, in order to flip a feeder, you needed three things: a definite, unrelenting admiration of fat guys, a potential submissive streak, and a super hard, easily excited dick. That last one had become tonight’s focus. Hendrix worked that sensitive muscle between Felix’s legs with a cherishing love, knowing that it was the key to everything that would come next. If Felix had ever been a feeder of any sort of substance, he should have realised how keenly Hendrix was educating himself on how best to stimulate his dick: the grip strength, the speed of the stroke, the positioning. If he could edge him well enough, he knew he could make Felix do anything he wanted in time. Tonight, Felix wanted to climax, there was no doubt about that. Hendrix just had to make sure that he had maximum results on the calories front before that happened.

Three weeks into all this and Hendrix knew that Felix was ready for the chat. He’d witnessed a slight softening in the torso and a subtle broadening in the guy’s rear. “You know I’m going to get bored of all this soon, unless I start seeing some results?” He shrugged his shoulders, looking at Felix earnestly. “I am what I am,” he sighed. “A feeder soon gets bored without some blubber to play with.”

His timing had been good, with Felix having spent the last 30 minutes sucking on cream and getting pounded until he practically exploded everywhere. It was obvious from the soppy eyed expressions Felix gave him that no one had ever pleasured the boy quite like this. “I’m up five pounds,” he tried to answer.

Hendrix scoffed. “Five pounds?” he repeated back to him, as if emphasising how pathetic it sounded. “You know what I am,” he whispered smoothly, sliding down the bed and spooning the naked guy until Hendrix’s semi-erection nestled back between Felix’s butt cheeks, where it belonged. “I want a piggy!”

“I’ve never thought about gaining myself,” Felix replied quietly.

“Until now…” Hendrix reminded him, kissing the back of his head sweetly. “You can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed those five extra pounds I’ve put on you.” His hand reached into Felix’s groin, feeling that the guy was indeed getting hard again. Slowly, he began to tug it, knowing how much more malleable the boy became when he was horny. In reality, the guy should have been wise to this sort of manipulation, were he really as adept at feeding as he had previously claimed to be in his previous relationship.

Felix moaned in agreement, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“And you want to put on more weight for me, don’t you?” Hendrix asked him, pushing a much firmer erection back inside him. “You want to make me proud to fuck you, right?”

Felix’s body completely relaxed, enjoying the submission as he prepared to be fucked once more. “Yes,” he whispered diligently back, as if hardly comprehending what a momentous milestone he had just passed.

Over the years, Hendrix had met a few guys like Felix; sling a hard dick inside them and they gave in entirely. The only difference here was the fantastic, instant access Hendrix had to Felix for so much of the week. Hendrix could whip up his most devious calorie shakes, then chuckle as he’d watch Felix discovering it in his desk drawer at work; slowly sucking it all down throughout the morning in the hope that Hendrix may pleasure him in the bathroom come lunchtime.

“You’ll see when he comes in,” Hendrix boasted to his friends at the gay bar. “His face is puffing up quite a bit and those tight little glutes of his have swollen out somewhat!”

“Is he actually getting a belly?” asked Pete, surprisingly thrilled by Hendrix’s genius plan to enact revenge for them all.

Hendrix considered for a second. “It’s more of a paunch than a belly. But if you want me to put a gut on him, I can definitely make that work,” he smiled obligingly.

The whole gang chuckled, nodding their heads. “Do it!” they cried, as if this was all one giant, elaborate prank.

Hendrix sighed, pretending to find this to be one long, tedious homework assignment; as if he was doing all this out of a kindness to them all. “Very well,” he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

When Felix arrived twenty minutes later, Hendrix was delighted with the fit of the guy’s pants, stretching across the broader, softer glutes. Even in the middle of the bar, Hendrix couldn’t resist gently stroking the tubbier rear, knowing that the eyes of everyone were watching his every move. He paraded the boy for a good thirty minutes, before slowly guiding him out; taking him back home to fatten and fuck him; much like every night.

“I’ll tell you who’s packed on a few pounds recently,” grunted Roy, one of the mechanics in the back. “Have you noticed Felix’s stomach recently?” he asked Hendrix and a couple of the other guys as they took a few moments outside to chat at the end of the lunch break.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” nodded another mechanic. “He’s starting with a right little beer gut,” he agreed.

“Well, what do you expect?” Hendrix shrugged. “The guy sits on his butt at a computer screen all day,” he explained, rolling his eyes as if Felix was nothing more than lazy. “He’s not up on his feet all day like we are.”

The other guys nodded, feeling that, despite whatever the admin-pushers like Felix believed, it was really their hard graft that kept this place running. “I have a cousin who ballooned after he got an office job,” agreed one. “It’s not good for you at all.”

At that moment, Felix appeared from around the corner; his portly little stomach straining the buttons of his shirt after quietly consuming two of the calorie shakes Hendrix had left for him that day. He called across to one of them, asking if certain parts had arrived so that he could finish writing up an invoice, then spun back around, giving them all a perfect view of his thicker glutes. Once out of earshot, the guys all looked at each other and burst out laughing. There was no doubt about it: Felix was slowly becoming quite the fat boy.

Perhaps Felix hadn’t even noticed how much more he was able to eat over the coming weeks and months, but the change had been nothing if not deliberate. With each kinky act of foreplay, Hendrix had slowly raised his expectations for what he expected Felix to consume. The fat itself was packing on beautifully across Felix’s sides, giving him deliciously cute, plump-looking love handles that completely altered his previously slender shape. Simply watching them emerge had given Hendrix a thrill unlike any other.

“Time to step on the scales,” Hendrix cooed, rousing Felix from his sleep that Sunday morning.

Felix groaned a little and rolled over in bed. It had only been four hours since he had been woken and fondled until he was horny enough to swallow down a gainer shake for Hendrix in the middle of the night. Ultimately, however, he was a good boy, dragging himself out of bed for a quick bathroom stop before the scales were ceremoniously brought out in front of Hendrix’s full-length mirror.

“Look at you!” Hendrix marvelled, admiring the way the blubber had continued to spread itself around Felix’s waist that week. There was no denying the fact that the guy was getting little moobs, with even the tops of his arms starting to puff up in a way that only happened with a consistent period of prolonged weight gain. Hendrix pulled down the tight boxer shorts that Felix had slept in, noticing all the little marks where they had been quietly digging into his plushier flesh. 

A lover of fat, even Felix couldn’t help getting hard as he saw it all and felt Hendrix’s large hands bouncing his heavier glutes up and down. His thighs had taken on quite a lot of fresh lard the last couple of weeks, making even Felix’s most resistant clothes absolutely redundant.

“Are you ready to find out how fat you are today?” Hendrix whispered into the boy’s ear, playing with Felix’s dick to ensure he was super turned on before he saw the new number on the scales. It had been a good week for gains, that much Hendrix was sure of; the traces of Felix’s former slender 145lb body slowly disappearing.

Felix nodded and stepped on; his cute little double chin showing itself as he looked down over the top of his developing gut at the building numbers. Two weeks ago, he had crossed 200lbs for the first time. Now the numbers were crossing that threshold with ease: 208…211… higher and higher.

“Fuck!” Felix gasped as it was obvious where the number was going to settle. He turned to Hendrix, catching the sparkling joy in his feeder’s eyes as. “How have I put on so much this week?”

“Because you’re a greedy little fucker,” Hendrix chuckled back, making his lover step off and onto the scales a further two times, just to be certain of the measurement. He grabbed a handful of lard from Felix’s stomach and held it proudly. “I’ll have another eight pounds on you next week as well,” he declared. He’d practically moved Felix in to get these sorts of gains on him, but with results like these, it had all been absolutely worth it.

Hendrix turned Felix back to the mirror, grabbing the boy’s hands and making it grab onto the flesh blubber. He took a step back, watching the former feeder’s love of fat start to wash over him. Felix’s own hands touched all those areas a feeder could never resist. Felix jiggled and bounced himself, raising his arms to admire the new love handles and twisted to see the remarkable transformation of his butt. The boy had always loved seeing fatter bodies, but it was obvious that he had never anticipated the next chubby body he got to play with would be his own. The guy’s dick was so irredeemably hard, Hendrix couldn’t help but laugh. This fatty had the potential to be taken all the way.

Hendrix was greeted as a hero as he strolled about in the gay bar a couple of months later. Whenever Felix went off to the bathroom, someone would come up and pat him on the back, telling him what an amazing job he had done teaching the guy a lesson. They spoke as if it was all done, as if the love handles and the double chin that Felix now owned were the end of the road. To Hendrix, it seemed like the most ridiculous concept to simply stop there. 

“He’s quite a greedy boy, y’know,” he told them all with a grin. “He almost seems oblivious to how much he overeats now. I definitely don’t think he’s done growing yet. That fat ass of his is pretty much made from pure ice cream!” he chuckled.

The guys nodded. They couldn’t help but notice the ridiculous shape of Felix’s glutes in the tight pants he’d worn that night. “Well, no one can deny that you’re committed to the cause!” they’d laugh back.

Hendrix smirked and nodded, spotting Felix making his way back towards him. “Karma’s a bitch!” he winked at them conspiratorially as they all drifted away once more, leaving Hendrix to play his games with Felix.

“How come they all still love you so much?” Felix asked, frowning at the fact that his lover was always so popular here. “Look at how much weight I’ve gained! Surely they must know that you’re a feeder?”

Hendrix laughed, slipping his large hand over Felix’s heavy glutes, rubbing and patting them with pride; the feature he most adored on Felix’s overweight body. It felt even more erotic to enjoy touching him like this in here, where everyone had known his previously slim physique so well before. “I’m just a bit cleverer than you,” he whispered back. “I could turn you into a literal mountain of lard and still have them love me.”

“But, how?” Felix pressed, having his fat stomach rubbed by Hendrix right there in the middle of the bar. He clearly could not comprehend how easily his lover was simply getting away with it all, whilst he himself had been ostricised. 

“Oh, it’s even better than that!” Hendrix smiled, pulling out a coupon for the ice cream joint down the street. “You wouldn’t believe how many of them keep giving things like this to me. They’re all so ridiculously fixated on disliking you that they don’t even realise what I am.” He laughed as he looked around at the faces in the bar. “They all think they’re in on it.”

“They do?” Felix asked in surprise, realising that he’d never quite understood the status Hendrix had in this bar. “No one is trying to stop you? At all?”

“Not one!” Hendrix smiled victoriously. “I’ve got free rein to do with you as I like,” he whispered, resuming his stroking of Felix’s oversized rear once more. “So I’m going to keep adding pounds and pounds and pounds of pure blubber to you. Then I’ll watch as it slowly dawns on them all how they all foolishly enabled and encouraged me…”

Felix looked around, clearly noticing how admired Hendrix was in here. “How long do you think that will take?” he asked, sceptically.

Hendrix smirked again. “Who knows?” he laughed. “Another one hundred pounds… two hundred… Hell, I might need to fatten you up forever in order for them to realise they invited an actual feeder into their circle of trust.”

“You really want to keep going that far?” Felix asked, stroking the back of his head nervously.

“Let me ask you, would you have ever stopped fattening your ex if he hadn’t wanted surgery?”

Felix looked a little sheepish. “No, I guess not,” he mumbled.

Hendrix nodded. “Exactly!” he declared. “Once you’ve sunk your claws into a fatty, there’s no letting go!”

Sometimes, there was a misty eyed look that Felix gave whenever Hendrix let out his most harsh and blunt thoughts. A lust would come over him that was so obvious to Hendrix. The guy became putty in his hand; ready to be pushed and cajoled in any direction Hendrix wanted. 

“How about we get out of here, Piggy?” Hendrix whispered into Felix’s ear. “I’m in the mood to watch you gorge yourself into oblivion tonight!”

Despite the kinkiness of their situation, Hendrix was genuinely delighted to have Felix in his life. Not only was he the guy who was the most sexually compatible with him, but he was also genuinely quite sweet and thoughtful once all his kinks were being managed. However, untamed, Hendrix could see what a nightmare the boy would have been to date previously. Just like Hendrix, he could get turned on at the drop of a hat, and Hendrix could imagine how slyly manipulative he would have been to push calories onto his former lovers. Now, whenever he got horny, he would take himself off to the well stocked kitchen cupboards and rip open a box of something tasty, feeding himself as Hendrix watched on with pleasure. It definitely helped that he too had once been a feeder. He had at least some understanding of how Hendrix’s brain worked. He knew how to dress himself to emphasise those gains and could wrap Hendrix’s fingers around those fleshier regions of his body that no feeder could resist touching.

“I never imagined I’d one day be over three hundred pounds!” Felix laughed to himself, admiring his fat body in the mirror as Hendrix climbed into the bed behind him.

“Well, believe it, buddy!” Hendrix laughed, enjoying the sight of Felix’s round, chubby glutes. For him, the boy was just entering the sweet stage, where even his hips were starting to pile on the pounds, altering his shape into that of a man of more extreme obesity. He was blowing up out of everything he had worn in the last few months; older stretch marks fading and newer ones coming in. There was something so comical about a guy with nipples drooping like Felix’s had started to do; the way the fat was spreading into his chest and bulging under his arms; those fat-filled upper arms and the complete domination of fat under his chin. “I’ve got plenty more pounds I want to add to you!” he grinned, smiling at the indestructible hardness that was straining from Felix’s body, even as a sizable pouch of fat pressed it down slightly in the guy’s groin. His body rippled and jiggled as he strutted over to the bed, the blubber spreading out onto the mattress once he finally lay down. He didn’t flinch as Hendrix reached across to his bedside table and picked up the nightly calorie shake, inserting the nozzle into Felix’s mouth.

Felix moaned, rubbing his little dick as he swallowed and swallowed. A lot of the time, he would simply gaze submissively into Hendrix’s eyes as he did this; adoring the muscular stud, freshly returned from his evening gym session, ready to play. It was the perfect lifestyle for him. Hendrix didn’t ask anything more of him than this: the blissful act of consuming and growing for him. And so he drank every last drop as if this was all he had ever wanted for himself.

One of the things that had bonded Hendrix and Felix together so much was their shared experience of growing up with undeniably crappy parents. The only major difference was that Hendrix had picked himself up and moved his entire life away from all that, whilst Felix had remained close by, keeping them at arm’s length. 

Not having to worry about impressing Felix’s super religious parents had certainly given Hendrix a freedom he would not have otherwise had as the date approached when he would have to meet them both. “You know what I love about you?” Hendrix smiled, watching his lover gorging his breakfast that morning. “You’re a great little stress eater!”

Felix smiled faintly. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he shrugged.

“It’s the first time your parents have seen you since you turned into such a fatty,” Hendrix bluntly replied, stroking the broad back of his three hundred and fifty pound lover and already plotting how many extra calories he could get into Felix that morning whilst he was in this heightened state.

“Is my large black sweater out of the wash?” Felix asked.

Hendrix rolled his eyes. “You’re planning on wearing that?” he sighed disappointedly, knowing just as well as Felix did that it was the one item of clothing that best disguised that impeccable size of Felix’s stomach.

“What else would I wear today?” Felix shot back.

“The pink sweater?” Hendrix shrugged.

Felix couldn’t hold back his laughter. “No way!” he chuckled. “That thing stopped fitting weeks ago, You only like it because it makes me look enormous!”

“You are enormous,” Hendrix shrugged again. “What’s the point in trying to hide it? I’m proud of how fat you are. I want people to see it.”

Felix smiled back, feeling a closeness with Hendrix he had never experienced in a relationship before. Sometimes it seemed like it was the two of them versus the entire world. He nodded as Hendrix planted a loving kiss on the top of his head. “Alright then,” he sighed. “I guess we’re really doing this…”

A few hours later, the two men tumbled through the apartment door, wrapped around each other and desperately trying to remove their clothes in a fit of steamy lust. The meeting couldn’t have gone worse and, consequently, it could not have inflamed both their kinks more. Felix’s parents had been in complete shock at the size of their boy, referring to Felix as a ‘fat pig’ and a ‘fatty.’ They’d been disgusted at how much Felix had ordered to eat and had called Hendrix out as they could see him trying to slyly push more food onto their son. Hendrix had loved every second of it, agreeing with them that he enjoyed the shape of Felix’s body and even thanking them for raising a son with such a hearty appetite. For the first time, Felix had let himself go in front of them, feeling strong with Hendrix by his side. The shock and horror on the older couple’s faces when Hendrix had told them about their musing about getting married. It wasn’t enough that they staunchly disagreed with gay men getting married, but the idea of their boy tethering himself to a feeder had almost sent them into a blind panic, leaving the table just as the main course was arriving.

The two men had stayed behind, with Felix quietly coached into consuming both of his parents’ meals as they further discussed the idea of getting married should Hendrix get the dream job he wanted in Seattle. All that eating, the talk of commitment and the exciting plans; it had sent them both into a spiralling horniness that could not be undone. The failed catch-up with Felix’s folks had proven one thing: they needed to live their lives for themselves, and no one else.

Back at the bar a few weeks later, the distrust of Hendrix had never been more apparent. Despite throwing the rug from under them by announcing that he was leaving town, the fact that he was taking Felix with him, and had even become engaged to him had completely thrown them all. At last, they could see what they had been a part of. Hendrix had never really cared about the things that had gone on before he arrived, He’d simply been riding a wave that had allowed him complete freedom to get his kicks in exactly the same way Felix had in the past.

Everyone had been polite, despite the many things that they may have been muttering to themselves under their breath as Felix’s ass crack and underbelly became more and more visible as the beers went down. One thing was for certain: these two freaks deserved each other. 

“No regrets?” Hendrix asked, finally sitting himself down next to Felix on their new couch, overlooking the Seattle skyline from the large window.

“None,” beamed Felix back.

The pair kissed sweetly before Hendrix pulled out his cell phone. “Well then, I guess it’s time to start trying out some of these new take out places,” he chuckled. “Buckle up, Fat Boy! You’re in for a tough few weeks ahead!”

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Going to the library with Harris is a great way to escape the heat. But with Harris and Hendrix? You just might lose your mind.

TW: pregnant!Reader, mentions of postpartum difficulties, just a ton of fluff

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

August 1999

It’s hot. 

The sun beats down on you the moment you step out of your car and begin walking across the parking lot.  

“Wait for me, Har,” you call out from where you trail behind him. 

You used to spend summers lounging by the public pool—usually with a book in hand. Though being a parent to Harris meant that you found yourself donning a swimsuit and joining him, dodging the water that splashed each time he kicked his feet. 

This summer is different, the heat less tolerable now that you’re six months pregnant. Being anywhere without air conditioning for an extended period of time is akin to torture. Which is why you and Harris spend most of your days at the Hawkins Public Library.

Harris slows to a stop, only walking again once you’ve reached his side. 

“Can we take Baby Brother to the library when he’s born?”

You take his hand in yours. “Of course.” A pause, then the necessary clarification. “Well, not right when he’s born. But once he’s a little older, we can definitely bring him along.”

Harris nods, content with the response, as he bounds towards the doors. He holds it open for you, leaning his whole body up against the frame. It was something he’d learned after watching his dad hold doors open for you. If baby brain doesn’t interfere, you’ll have to tell Eddie about it.

The library hosts various kid-friendly activities, and Harris is no stranger to arts and crafts. Since school let out, your home has become increasingly filled with glitter-coated popsicle picture frames and macaroni necklaces. But there’s nothing on the schedule today, which means an afternoon spent reading.

You find a seat in the children’s section, making yourself as comfortable as you can in the small chairs. Harris flits from shelf to shelf, grabbing every book that catches his eye until he has a pile he can barely hold.

“Okay, Mom,” he grunts behind his stack of books. “I’m ready.”

With a wince, you stand up and help him carry the books to the table. There’s the slew of usuals: Green Eggs and Ham (he insists you read each page in one breath), If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, and The Mitten. But Harris plucks a new one from the stack: Where the Wild Things Are.

“I’m gonna read this one to Baby Brother,” he says, plopping down on the chair next to you. “If I teach him about monsters now, then he won’t grow up to be afraid of ‘em.”

You nod, refusing to argue with his logic. Who knows–he may be right.

Harris opens to the first page, placing one finger on the first word. “The night Max w-w-wore his wolf s-s-s-uh…” He looks up at you, a wrinkle in his brow. “Can you help me? Just with the tricky words.”

His reading has vastly improved thanks to the extra instruction he receives at school, and you’re more than happy to fill in when he needs it. “Suit.”

“Right. Suit.” He starts again. “The night Max wore his wolf suit and mad–made mis-cuh-huh…no, wait, that makes the ch sound…” His little tongue pokes between his lips, another habit he’s picked up from Eddie.

“Mischief.” Your eyes sparkle. “Like what you like to cause.”

He giggles, continuing to read until he gets to the pages where the full pages are illustrations of the wild rumpus. “Is Baby Brother listening?” He peers down at your bump and rests his hand on top. “Hey, are you listening in there?”

You can’t help but laugh at his questioning. “He must be. He hasn’t moved too much since you started reading. And lately he’s been squirming around in there.”

It’s a good enough explanation to Harris, and he picks up where he left off. “Okay, I know you can’t see this, but now the wild things are having, like, a dance party. They’re going stomp, stomp, stomp.” He mimics the monsters’ movements, feet stamping the colorful carpeted floor.

He finishes the book, closing it with a triumphant thwack. “Can you read to me now?” he asks you.

“Of course.” You take Green Eggs and Ham–his favorite. Something about the repetition tickles his brain just right. Before you know it, Harris is doing his jumps, leaning on the table and jumping each time you read a sentence starting with “I do not like…”

It’s the last summer of just you and Harris, and you take an extra moment to cherish it. Next year, you’ll have two sons to read to–what more could you ask for?

August 2000

You’re exhausted. Running on fumes.

Hendrix has been waking up multiple times per night, thanks to the tiny teeth ripping through his gums. Since you’re off of work for the summer, you take the brunt of the night shift. It makes sense, but you still find yourself scowling at a still-sleeping Eddie each time you pad past his side of the bed and into the nursery.

When Hendrix woke up just after 7 A.M., you walked in to find that he’d had a major diaper blowout. How any nine-month-old could produce that much poop was beyond your comprehension.

Once you’d disposed of his soiled pajamas and bathed him, you hit another roadblock: a Harris tantrum. In your sleep deprived state, you had forgotten to pick up his latest go-to cereal at Bradley’s Big Buy. And when Harris opened the pantry and found an absence of Chex, melted down. You finally got him to catch his breath by promising to stop off at the grocery store on the way home from the library–if you ever got there.

Despite the odds, you managed to get both boys into the car. With a baby on your hip and an almost-third-grader by your side, you take a deep breath and push aside the morning’s frustrations. 

Harris places his old books on the return counter and makes a beeline for the children’s section. The moment he’s out of sight, Hendrix begins to wiggle and whine. 

“Okay, buddy,” you murmur, fielding glares from library patrons who had been savoring the silence, “just give Har a second to get some new–”

Hendrix’s shriek pierces the air, filling you with embarrassment and sending you rushing towards Harris to hurry him up.

“Mom, look! It’s the book I read to Hendrix when he was in your tummy!” He holds up Where the Wild Things Are. “I wonder if he remembers it.”

The baby wails again, and you gently shush and bounce him, though your efforts appear futile.

“Maybe. Why don’t you check it out and we can read it to him at home?”

Harris scrunches up his nose. “We’re not gonna read here?”

You shake your head. “Not today. Hendrix isn’t in a very good mood. He’s teething, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” Harris purses his lips. “Can I see something? Can you put him down for a second?”

“Har, he’s gonna crawl–”

“Just for a second, Mom!”

You sigh, defeated, and you place the baby on the carpet. Sure enough, he starts crawling away, under tables and chairs and heading for the bookshelves. But before you can scoop him up, Harris kneels on both knees, book open, and begins scooting after him.  

“The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mis–mischief of one kind,” he reads as he follows his little brother, unbothered at the prospect of being on the move. “And another…”

Hendrix weaves in and out of the aisles, but Harris is right on his tail. Screeching is quickly replaced with baby giggles, and the next time Hendrix peeks his head out from behind the shelves, there’s a smile on his face that shows all five of his teeth.

“C’mon, let’s have a wild rumpus!” Harris glances at you. “Mom, you gotta rumpus with us!”

And who are you to deny your son–and your lifesaver for the day–a wild rumpus?

--

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Be My Wife: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A “friend” freaks out when you split a Coke with Eddie the Freak.

Warnings: references to A Clockwork Orange, bullying, STI/STD mention, backwash drinking

A/N: So… I know this isn’t a Christmas fic. But I wrote this because I had those times in my youth where someone spread horrid rumors about either me or my friends, and I had to make those split second decisions to determine my loyalty. I always try to be loyal as best I can.

Thank you to @writhingg for giving the green light on this fic. And big thanks to @rxqueenotd and @melodymunson as well. And big thanks to viewers like you. Thank you. ❤️

Resources: @strangergraphics-archive for the dividers.

Taglist: @ali-r3n @melodymunson @twihard28

“Hey droogie, can I have a sip of your Coke?”

You looked up from where you were perched on the pony wall by the Seven Eleven bike rack. You had been chatting with a classmate, Chessie Hagar, about purchasing a purse from her mother’s Avon Colorworks catalog. It was a new collection for the year 1977. Said eye catching magazine with its spread of rainbow themed products was currently held between the two of you, and the pages began to rattle as Chessie shook in fear upon hearing the deep voice.

A flutter-smack sounded from the girl dropping the catalog when Eddie The Freak approached. His stride was casual as one could be, whilst battling both midwestern humidity and pit sweat in a white hand-me-down Jimi Hendrix shirt and sleeveless denim vest. As one of the middle schoolers who had been blessed with a growth spurt, his lanky height, shredded second hand clothes, and shaved head often made those in your grade— and some of those above— piss their pants.

You alone did not fear him.

The Fates had elected to weave you both in a tangled web of coincidences: you had been his project partner in every shared class since you started at Hawkins Middle School together, and you just so happened to live in the same neighborhood on occasion. The distance from Al Munson’s janky two bedroom home to yours was but a hop skip and a jump. Eddie used to ding dong ditch your house when he was six, until one day your mother caught him by the ear and brought him in to mend his tattered jeans and offer up a hot meal.

To any other rando, he was an unstable pariah. But to you, he was just Eddie Munson— the cute boy next door who sometimes ate at your place. And you had become his droog after spending winter 1972 sneaking into the Hawk Theater, and making Stanley Kubrick films your new big boy personalities.

Without thinking, you handed the soft drink over. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the Coke out of your grip and went for a swig, with plush pink lips wrapping around the transparent jade glass of the lip and neck. His protruding Adam’s apple was bobbing with the rhythmic gulping, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Thanks.” He belched out.

“You said a sip, not half the goddamn bottle!” You whined.

Eddie grinned sheepishly and backwashed a good mouthful. Giving a half assed apology and a promise to pay you back mumbled under his breath, he handed the bottle back.

“Still up for doing last minute project prep?” You asked, swirling the leftovers he’d saved for you.

“Nah, let’s take a break from the train wreck brothers. Catch you tomorrow, though?” He said, scratching a blackhead off his nose and snorting a bit, “I had an idea for the oral report that might earn us a little extra credit. Think you can mimic a British accent?”

“Eh. Can’t do an accent without sounding like fucking Alex DeLarge.” You groused.

“We can work on that. Leave your milk-plus at home, though. Don’t want me own droog reenacting some Roman ultra violence on me.”

“Just don’t go popping out from behind your curtains at me again, that’s a good way to get stabbed in the neck with my mom’s kitchen scissors.” You snorted.

“Ahhh, the droog’s no fun. I guess I can tone down the surprise pop ups, though. If you insist. Catch you later?” Eddie said, waving.

“Later. Peace out, man.”

Chessie let out a shaky, sobbing exhale when you made to drink the dregs of your soda, and you turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Whassamatter?” You asked.

“Are you nuts?! You just shared your drink with the freak!” She blurted out.

… since when the hell was sharing with Eddie a crime?

“Yeah, so? It’s hot out. He looked thirsty.” You said.

“Did you seriously forget everything we’ve heard about him?!” She whisper-screamed, “Don’t you care what everyone talks about?!”

You rolled your eyes. Everyone talked about Eddie. If you hadn’t heard at least one rumor from a faceless student whenever he walked by, you were either stupid or living under a rock. They said he was a bad boy— yes, even with a full vocabulary of slurs and insults available, they still called him a bad boy. Like if he was still in diapers drawing with crayon on the wall, and needed a spanking.

Depending on who you asked, Eddie either did or sold drugs, it was never clear which. Some of the other trailer park kids said he was a mean scrapper when he went to his uncle’s on alternate weeks. Women’s restroom lore stated that he carried a switchblade in the back pocket of his Wrangler jeans, and that he used it to torture animals for his Satanic rituals.

A million and one things were said about him on the daily, but you knew none of them were true in the slightest. None of the talk deterred you from spending time with him. Sometimes he came to your house, more often than not you went to his.

Every other day found the two of you parked in front of his mom’s turntable, jamming to Deep Purple and putting together an elaborate poster board with some spray painted fake leaves made into laurel crowns, along with a block of text about your chosen co-emperor of the early Roman Empire.

You had wanted to write about Caligula so you could use the word ‘orgy’ in the report without getting in trouble, but Eddie had insisted he had a better idea when he discovered a two years tumultuous ruling of brothers from 209 AD to 211 AD.

“As much as I love a good sex party on paper, you just know that’s what everyone else is gonna write about. Let’s write about this nut job Caracalla instead! Dude killed his brother in the arms of his mother, and struck his name from the record. That’s like, the most metal shit ever! Also, here’s a better word for you to learn: fratricide. Apparently there’s a whole list of technical terms for when you kill a family member.”

“… what’s the rumor mill gotta do with my Coke?” You deadpanned.

“If you drink after him, you’re gonna get mono like Cindy! You gotta throw it out!”

Cindy Bishop in your science class had told everyone that had functional ears— swearing up and down on her life— that Eddie Munson had kissed her and given her mononucleosis. A dreaded affliction whose nickname to you sounded like one of the variations of sound formats for any sort of audio.

“Mono…?”

“Yes! Or the syph!”

You knew Eddie had to have heard Chessie’s vitriol. Turning around, you could see him staring at the two of you from across the parking lot, one leg over his bike. There was a stinging look of betrayal on his face. Telltale signs of a wet cherry nose and shameful red cheeks gave away his mistrust; as if he was expecting you to do as your friend told, and throw the bottle he drank from in the trash.

His imaginary affliction was just that: imaginary. You knew that to be gospel.

The kiss with Cindy was real, unfortunately. It happened way before Cindy was kept home with mono, and you remembered the incident well. Eddie had come running to your house just to brag that he’d finally gotten his first kiss, and that pretty soon he’d be popping girl’s cherries left and right.

Just learning about the simple kiss had pissed you off, because the closest you’d ever gotten to kissing Eddie was sharing the same fork whenever you both roasted Vienna sausages on the gas burner in his kitchen. Eddie hadn’t been sick when Cindy stayed home, he came faithfully to school to trap you on the playground and speculate about the thousand and one hidden meanings behind the kiss.

With all the excitement, he never noticed the smallest details like you did. One of the guys in your PE class had been sent home with a rash and a high fever, and it was only a month after Cindy was rumored to have also kissed the collapsed boy that she got sick. You had always shared cups, utensils, and other things requiring mouth use with Eddie and had been fine. Yet Cindy and Tommy Hagan swapped spit once, and both were out of commission.

But no one would ever say anything about Tommy Hagan getting mono. They’d always redirect every disease outbreak to the poor loser who split time between Cherry Street and Forest Hills Trailer Park. The same poor loser who had the misfortune of wasting his first kiss with Cindy; a girl who frenched behind the portable classrooms with anything that had a pulse. People could be so blind and stupid, they failed to notice the sickness timelines were not matching up.

No one deserved their first anything to be with Cindy. Not with the way she stabbed people in the back.

You took a long, hard pause as you stared into Eddie’s wet brown eyes. He was asking you a silent question you already knew the answer to: were you a stinking traitorous droog, or a loyal one? Were you, his one friend in the entire world, going to stand against him?

Without saying a word, you looked at Chessie, then looked back again at Eddie.

In a world of traitors— where brothers stabbed brothers in the arms of their mothers, or where violent men disowned each other with drug laced milk bottles to the face, you would always pick instead to be Eddie Munson’s loyal droog.

You lathed at the lip of the bottle and stuck your tongue down the neck, and shotgunned all of Eddie’s backwash.

Chessie’s mouth dropped open as she began to gag, and Eddie opened his mouth in an obnoxious and breathless laugh as you chugged the entirety of his germs. The carbonation caught up to you, so you let a belch rip before turning back around to face him.

“I GOT YOUR MONO NOW, MUNSON!” You screamed out to him, “NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!”

“IS THAT HOW IT WORKS, DROOGIE?” He shouted back, a shit eating grin stretched across his face, “YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KNOW BEFORE I TOOK A SWIG, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE I GOT YOU A RING POP FIRST!”

“IT'S GODDAMN ROMAN CONFARREATIO LAWS, EDDIE! YOU GAVE ME MONO INSTEAD OF SPELT BREAD, NOW YOU GOTTA MARRY ME!” You joked.

You noticed from the big, smart ass grin that he was about to do something outrageous, and your heart began to sing. He immediately got to his knee on the asphalt, everyone in the Seven Eleven parking lot watching as he began to scream like an orator in the colosseum. He used your full government name and everything when he called out to the small parking lot audience.

“HEAR ME, CITIZENS OF HAWKINS! I AM BUT A VESSEL FOR THE GODS, A BEARER, A MESSENGER OF THAT MOST HOLY WORD FROM MOUNT OLYMPUS! I HAVE SHARED OF THE COOTIE WITH A WOMAN, AND THUS OUR MARRIAGE BETWEEN EMPEROR AND DROOG IS SOLEMNIZED-…!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, FREAK!” Someone called out, immediately flinching back when Eddie rounded on him.

“THE GODS. HAVE. SPOKEN!” Eddie screeched, a glob of spit flying out of his mouth and onto the hot asphalt.

He was wide eyed. Deranged. Eddie lifted up the hem of his denim vest and held it out and to the side, to look like wings unfurling, screaming to the heavens as you began howling with him.

“YEAH!” You screamed out, raising your bottle and shouting every bit of nonsense you could think of, “GOD SANCTIONED DROOG MARRIAGE CO-RULER ULTRA-VIOLENCE! MAZEL TOV!”

“THE IMPERIAL HUSBAND NOW DEMANDS TO KISS THE DROOG BRIDE!” Eddie screamed, “PLANT ONE ON ME, GODDESS DIVINE OF THE REPUBLIC OF HAWKINS!!”

You looked at Chessie, who looked as if she was going to throw up or scream. It wasn’t immediately clear which. Instead of ending the joke, you grinned. Shrugged. The glossy magazine paper pages of the forgotten Avon Colorworks catalog ripped under the tread of your shoes when— without warning— you took off towards Eddie, and planted a fat wet kiss on his mouth. He froze for a moment, but returned the kiss with fervor, making an obnoxious hum and wet smack when you pulled away.

“Yum.” You gushed, licking your lips and changing your cadence to the unhinged Kubrick Cockney, “Them’s tasty cooties, they are, brother sir!”

“Yeah? Them false cytomegalovirus germs are what taste good to ya, droog?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and putting on his own terrible accent.

“That they are, sir, that’s what gives all me food and drink that plus flavor.” You grinned.

The two of you cackled, thoroughly enjoying throwing out random quotes and various insanities that to the normal person would put them off of your insanity and edge-lord humor. Chessie had long since taken off for the gated community of Loch Nora on her bike, but you didn’t care. You could live without a selection of eyeshadows, a rainbow tote purse, and all of your false friends if the choice came down to choosing them, or Eddie.

“Wanna go into the gas station and split another bottle of mono before we blow this joint?” You asked.

His grin could have rivaled that of Malcolm McDowell.

“Now, how can I say no to my new wife?” He grinned, holding out his arm for you to take, “But I am a man of my word, so you’re getting a new Coke, plus that Ring Pop so’s we can make this thing official.”

“Spare no expense, huh?” You grinned, and he pulled you in closer. Both of your hips knocking together.

“Hey… Only the best and finest gems and refreshments for Empress Droog the First of Hawkins, Indiana.” Eddie said with a confident smile.

You smiled at him, nudging one another with your bodies all the way into the gas station, until he pulled you in for another sloppy kiss in the middle of the snack aisle.

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Outreach Gala

Another uneventful day for Gotham's environmental intern...

The Intern: Gotham x reader

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern Small Talk with a Dead Man

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

Gotham's public library appears unrecognizable under the cloak of night. Broad leaves shroud the outside exterior of the Gothic pillars while ivy cascades down the large door frames. Harris raises an eyebrow.

"How many forests do you think Wayne destroyed in his quest to save the planet?" He questions with a smirk.

Each grey hair is perfectly gelled out of his face. Ditching his glasses for the occasion, Dr. Harris may actually care about tonight's guests. The bouncer outside the door seemed to think the dress code was not a laughing matter.

Taking his extended arm, I roll my eyes. The security guy nods to the two of us as we walk through the door.

"Professor, if you keep saying things like that Gordon's going to question your stances on Gotham's resident Eco-terrorist. " I whisper with a smile. "....but at least 12."

Thanks to the joint collaboration between Wayne Industries, Goth-corp, and the Gotham Department of Environmental Protection. Gotham City is hosting its first Environmental Outreach Gala for the nearby tri-state area.

My heart flutters a little bit as a realization hits me. I’m actually here… surrounded by giants in clean energy and the scientific community alike. Award-winning journalists... All for the future of our planet. Passing my reflection, I smile thinking of how far I’ve come from that little river rat back at home.

A figure in the corner of my eye draws my thoughts away from the Grandma debrief. Dick Grayson, the Billionaire’s son, charms the group of ladies by his side. I take a mental note to find time to talk to him when there isn’t such a big crowd. It's been a long time since we last spoke.

The walls echo with the idle chatter coming from the rich socialites of Gotham. Waiters in tuxedos maneuver silently with a tray of champagne flutes in each hand. Considering, that most environmental professionals wear cargo pants from the early 2000s to work... the dress code was definitely a choice. I scan the room for familiar faces. Gordon flashes me a smile from across the room. I nod back. The Mayor works his way around the room with a large smile. It must be an election year.

My throat gets tight. I'm not ready for this. Looking to my right, I find that Dr. Harris has vanished into the crowd.

"Y/N L/N?" A voice calls distracting me from my nerves.

A well-dressed man strolls over. Something about him puts me on edge. Maybe it's his wicked smile or the large emerald ring on his outstretched hand. He walks with an easy air of confidence.

"Lex Luthor."

My heart does a little tap dance in my chest. The tight fabric of my rental dress makes it hard to breathe. I shake his hand politely. The party-goers go quiet around us. From the corner of my eye, Lois Lane, an investigative reporter from Metropolis, shoves through the crowd. So much for being a fly on the wall.

"I recently worked with a Professor of yours. She had a lot to say about your graduate proposal."

This cannot be happening. Memories of those long fights in the lab flash in the back of my mind. Mr. Luthor's cat-like gaze observes my reaction curiously.

I cover my face in embarrassment. That woman deserves hate mail. I could have at least been asked to type or spell-check it beforehand.

"To be frank, I originally chose the topic to get a rise outta her. Dr. Hendrix had me doing dishes for 3 weeks straight after I accidentally messed up a sample, so I wrote a proposal I knew she wouldn't like."

When I finally uncover my face, Luthor stares down at me with an amused grin.

"Even so. I'd like to discuss potential funding opportunities in Metropolis. If this is something you would think up out of boredom, I'd love to see what you can do when you put your mind to it."

That brings a smile to my face.

"Really? Everyone who I've brought it up to has been apprehensive about researching Kryptionian radiation.

"We need more scientists to ask questions Ms. L/N. Even the ones, that people don't want to know the answer to. "

The sullen green glow draws my eye once again to Mr. Luthor's ring finger... Wait, that's not an emerald. That's Kryptonite.

"Is this a personal interest of yours?" I ask slowly glancing between his eyes and his ring.

"In some ways."

An unspoken conversation occurs when he notices my acknowledgement of his strange choice of jewelry. The silence only creates more questions. Why would you wear something you know is irradiated?

"I hope to hear from you soon." Mr. Luthor concludes after handing me a business card, "There is always a spot at Lexcorp for a future scientist with your talents."

I stand there in silence watching him leave. The sleek modern design of the card lists only the bare essentials: his name, office address, and contact information in silver lettering.

Four hours ago, I was hauling boxes for the decorating committee. Huh. A nearby waiter offers a champagne flute from the tray. Respectfully, I turn them down. This dress costs more than my rent.

“Oh no. Thank you. I am… working.”

"Does work-life balance not apply to interns?” A voice interrupts.

I try not to roll my eyes at the "intern" comment. The constant reminders of my status are getting old. Starting at his perfectly buffed dress shoes, my gaze drags along the fabric of his black designer suit. Dick Grayson sure does like to make an entrance. With his dark curls and friendly blue eyes, his familiar smile knocks over my defenses. Sipping on his drink, he waits for my response with a teasing grin. His energy is contiguous. I ignore his question to ask my own instead.

“Has anyone told you that you tend to appear out of nowhere?”

His striking eyes light up with a mischievous glint.

“You have no idea.” He laughs, "It's nice to see you back in Gotham. It's been a long time."

"It has. From the rumors, you have been up to quite a bit of trouble." I joke gesturing to the envious eyes from across the room.

He raises a curious eyebrow.

“Good things I hope?”

Glancing around the room, I ignore the dozen eyes staring daggers in my direction. Academia can be such a bitch.

“Nothing too crazy: a few murders, unfounded accusations, and you might be an alien?”

Dick grimaces while tilting his head ever so slightly. He swirls his drink, yet doesn't take a sip.

“Sounds about right. Anything you believe? “

I pause... Do I play coy?

“I’m not sure an alien could do a quadruple summersault.”

Something flashes in his eyes that I don’t quite understand. For a moment, I wonder if I should have held my tongue. His suspicion morphs into the first genuine smile I've seen all evening.

“You’ve kept tabs on me Y/N.”

Before I can respond, a scream causes the ballroom to descend into chaos. Vines shoot out from under the floorboards while the native plants start attacking the guest. A woman with flaming red hair paces the floor. Her vines wrap around each person one by one…. A thorny bush springs out of a fallen leaf snagging my delicate rental dress.

Dammit Pamela. We talked about this.

Glancing at the bartender's horrified expression, I frown.

“I change my mind. I’ll have that drink now.”

[deeswrld]

Random astro observations

Some content is 18+

I’ve noticed people with Sagittarius/9H placements always seem to stand out in the field they pick or in some sort of way become pioneers. E.g. Jimi Hendrix was a Sag stellium and has a reputation of a guitar God for his innovative and crazy good guitar skills. Teena Marie (Sag moon) became a beloved non black R&B singer/artist at Motown. I just feel like Sag placements are just out here breaking barriers lol.

People with trining risings all have a certain similar look!!

E.g Most Air risings tend to have pointy chins and high cheekbones with prominent noses—I’ve noticed they always seem to have a prominent nose bridge even if it’s not that thin but it sorta gives them this Greek god/goddess look with their eyebrows slightly arching.

With water risings I’ve noticed Scorpio risings have a more reserved look in their eyes and all water risings have a somewhat oval shaped face. You can literally tell them by their eyes lol. Cancer risings have bambi eyes and Pisces risings have doll like watery eyes.

Now, I knew I started recognizing earth risings when I found Sarah Paulson to look like Adele.😭 Which further goes to prove the trining risings point I made previously.

I think I’ve stated this before but hear me out! Idk what the connection is but the moon sign also affects how you look!! I fr can’t stop guessing people’s moon signs at first glance.💀

Libra rising with 1H venus & mercury culture is constantly teasing others!! Wanting to be in a relationship yet wanting to be independent and having no problem breaking things off if they feel something’s not right.

Gemini risings with 10H suns have an INSANE bone structure/hot body!!! 😮‍💨🔥 Their arms & legs tend to be long! Legs tend to be skinny and thighs thick meanwhile their collarbones just stand out, overall they just have great bone structure! I’ve noticed this with myself & Irene Cara! 😩

I’d apply it to 10H suns in general but I haven’t looked into it as a collective thing yet.

11H Aries mercuries only speak what they think is true to them regardless of anybody’s opinion and I love how real they keep it, they’re also very humanitarian and speak up for groups/communities!

Pisces and Aquarius in the big 3 HATE boundaries. I’ve noticed this with myself and Axl Rose!😂 Ironically I’m Pisces sun-Aqua moon and he’s Aqua sun-Pisces moon.😛

I’ve noticed a pattern with people that have Aqua venus and mars and being aggressive…🥲

Taurus venus love soul/R&B music?

I’ve noticed some 10H Chiron people have trouble with work like, they might switch jobs often.

8H Chiron and having a phobia of being touched by anybody and for no reason too?

People who’s planets fall in your 9H might be the ones who you rarely see crying but are the first to try and cheer you up! You might also see them as arrogant or too blunt at times too especially if their mercury falls in your 9H!

People who’s planets fall in your 10H, you’ll see them as reserved and hardworking, they might like to give you stuff as a love language like share their food or they might like to invite you to go somewhere. Even though it might feel a little awkward at times, you both might get into deep conversations.

Not Gemini suns with Leo moons out here causing chaos then if somebody else asks them about it they’ll charmingly lie their way out of it and make it seem like it was the other person’s fault.😭😂

Scorpio mars lowkey live for toxic sex. ✋🏽 Some Scorpio mars & Aries mars I know, also secretly have a spanking kink??😛

If you have mars in somebody’s 1H they just won’t be able to contain themselves around you! You might sexually fantasize about them a LOT too. And you’ll find them hot down to the way they talk, their body language!!😮‍💨🔥

And if somebody’s mars falls in your 1H you’re prone to getting horny like 24/7 and it’ll feel like an intense and passionate connection! Sex might be like, ripping each other’s clothes off and one get thrown on the bed while the other dominates them and they both make out while grabbing each other—basically just not being able to keep your hands off of each other lmao. Also, having sex anywhere too and going for multiple rounds during the day!💀🔥

That also applies to Aries mars in composite too!⤴️⤴️

Pisces and Sagittarius suns—when they’re not at each other’s throats—actually make a good pair!❣️

Earth suns with Earth mars are so sensual and sexy😩😩😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨!!!

Having composite mars at Libra degree (7, 19) can indicate compliments and vanilla sex!😮‍💨

If somebody has their mars in your 7H, most likely they’ll be super possessive over you. 😭

If someone has their venus in your 7H then you’ll feel very comfortable with their love language or feel like you’ve found the one!💗

Sagittarius mars in composite is often grabbing thighs, giggles or soft laughter, a somewhat competitive energy and possessive aura.❣️Also, wanting to travel and explore new places together or talking about moving or including each other in future plans! Also, learning new things from each other or talking about subjects like geography/history and genealogy or about different cultures! You both could be from different backgrounds too or similar but one person is mixed, etc…

Also, when looking at appearance not only should we consider the rising but also the 7H! Say if you’re a Gemini rising; You might be able to build muscle easily or have long legs yet thick thighs because Sag falls in your 7H and Libra is also ruled by venus. Just like how Aries risings tend to have charming smiles and great bodies (7H falls in Libra), etc…

[sirenedeslily]

VIDEO OBSESSION 〻ᯇ # matthew sturniolo

✦ SEARCHING FOR PROFILES… two results found !

result ONE out of TWO — @ChromeHearts

MATTHEW STURNIOLO, marlboro-stained recluse. winter fog. chrome hearts. eyebags? permanent. little big planet. streamer incapable of not raging. body littered in tattoos. opium* meets forgotten ps2 game protagonist. yohji yamamoto. blade runner (1982). 2002. scared of the hoes. relies heavily on sarcasm, dry quips, and saying “bruh” at the most inappropriate times. permanently tired. takes games way too seriously but always clutches the win. vamp anthem by playboi carti. boston › nyc.

KAILANI HENDRIX, the quintessential “soft girl” youtuber from nyc. tinted lip gloss. born in pink tulle & lace. doe eyed. small, delicate tattoos peeking from under lace-trimmed sleeves. miu miu. short n sweet. freshly painted nails holding a cup of matcha. directed by sofia coppola. prada candy. deer-themed knickknacks. soft spoken. rhode. leg warmers. dainty gold rings. ‘03 princess. her most cherished possession? her custom made blythe doll that her boyfriend gifted her. bambi by clairo. sandy liang. ballet flats.

CHRIS STURNIOLO, static by lucki. vivienne westwood. 2002. disheveled and clueless. stussy. mario kart aficionado but only chooses donkey kong. pepsi. hot wheels hoarder. timberlands. chronically inebriated but somehow always lucid enough to pull off a quick-witted comeback. dior sauvage. collects old bootleg mixtapes of obscure 90’s memphis rap. french toast crunch. album reaction streamer who plays ssx tricky and gta v when high. custom lighter with his beautiful girlfriend on it. godly at fortnite.

NAO CHUNG, kill bill: vol. 1 (2003). deeply nostalgic for jet set radio future, and can recite every dj professor k line from memory. born in ‘00. yumin ha. soju. aphex twin. sonic adventure 2. co-parents a tamagotchi with his boyfriend nick. korea › nyc. spike spiegel. incapable of thinking before he speaks. ralph lauren polo. self thought producer. ysl l’homme. singer who effortlessly blends the edge of k-rnb with dreamy electronic textures, capturing a raw, nostalgic energy rooted in korean street culture. omen main but exclusively runs knife kills in unranked just to troll his friends.

NICK STURNIOLO, self titled idgaf warrior. vintage olympus om-10. obsessed with collecting bootleg runway tapes and niche comme des garçons accessories—his holy grail is an unreleased cdg tote from their 1998 guerilla pop-up in paris.. gentle monster eyewear. homotron 3000. poison by brent faiyaz. carries a polaroid of nao tucked into the coin slot of his vivienne westwood wallet. ‘02 star. mocha macarons. always in second-hand luxury stores. comme des garçons odeur 53. youtuber known for his meticulous fashion reviews. leather jackets and marlboro reds.

back to profile one @FallenAngels - back to masterlist!

🖥️𓈒ིུ✧꫶᳜᳝͟ᰭ✿⃨ TRENDING NOW ! matt sturniolo was known for many things: his striking looks, his dominance in the gaming world, and his complete inability to keep his cool around beautiful women. so it’s almost poetic—almost—that his fiery temper explodes during an intense fortnite match, broadcasted live to thousands, only to discover later that the player who completely shattered his pride was y/n greenblatt, one of the most beloved streamers in the community—and undeniably beautiful.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ PLS SEND ASK I WANNA KNOW WHAT CHARACTER YOURE MORE DRAWN TO

TAGLIST ( open ) ; @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @waitforyrlove @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @maggot3647 @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @ifwdominicfike @emely9274 @fratbrochrisgf @2augustsago @sturn777 @st4rsturns

[obsidianimagines]

Don't Mention It

The Doctor discovers that the two of you have a shared hobby

Twelve x gn!reader

Warnings: None

You realized it probably wasn't the best idea to touch The Doctor's guitar, but when you got ready for the day and entered the empty console room to find it sitting there unattended, you couldn't resist. After all, sometimes it was simply better to seek forgiveness than to ask for permission. Surely he wouldn't be too upset if he found out, and if he was, you could handle him.

After turning the amp down a bit, you sat on the steps, holding the guitar as you settled into place. Without having to think much about it, you began to play Purple Haze. You were a little out of practice, but it felt nice to strum out a tune.

Before you could move onto another song, you jumped at the sound of The Doctor's voice. "What are you doing?"

When you looked up, his piercing blue eyes and very serious brows were focused right on you. You hadn't even heard him get close.

"Playing guitar. Well, your guitar." You slipped the strap off of your body and handed the instrument to him. "Sorry."

"You never told me you could play." He'd actually been quite surprised at the fact that your playing sounded pleasant, as opposed to the nails on a chalkboard he'd heard when Clara once picked up his guitar.

"I'm sure I have. You probably weren't listening."

"I'm always listening," he said, sounding almost offended.

"You're joking, right?" You stood up from the stairs with a sigh. "Anyway...yes, I play. I just haven't had much time between travelling with you and working whenever I'm back at home. When I hear you playing, it really makes me miss it."

How The Doctor hadn't put the pieces together long ago, he didn't know. When you stopped everything and watched him play, he'd always assumed you were just impressed by his great skills. And maybe it was a little bit of that, but it seemed there had been some longing, too. You were enjoying the music and wishing you could be playing yourself.

The Doctor looked down at the guitar he still held in his hands, and you were caught off guard when he offered it back to you. "I'd better not find even a scratch on it. If I do, I'm dropping you off at home."

You knew he wouldn't do such a thing, but you still intended to respect his request, gingerly taking it from him and putting the strap back over your head.

As The Doctor turned to the console, you sat down once again and played the first thing that came to mind.

It had been a few days since your last trip with The Doctor when he finally showed up again. You weren't sure how long it had been for him—you never were—but he didn't seem any different.

He played his guitar as he pondered something you couldn't even begin to guess, filling the TARDIS with what you recognized as I Will Dare by The Replacements. An odd choice, you thought, yet that didn't stop you from listening intently.

The Doctor abruptly stopped the tune to put the instrument down, and he was gone from the console room before you could say anything. You sighed in disappointment. You quite liked that song after all.

You continued where he'd left off, humming and tapping your fingers against your thigh.

Moments later, The Doctor came back, holding a guitar case in his hand. You frowned at the sight, because even though he probably had several scattered around the TARDIS, he seemed to prefer the Yamaha that still sat in the console room.

It was even more puzzling when he gave you the case.

"Did you...buy me a guitar?"

"No, no. I didn't buy it. I don't buy things." The Doctor walked over to the console, pretending to look at something on the screen and at least attempting to be out of hugging distance. "A friend gave it to me in the 1960's, and it's been sitting around here ever since."

"1960's?" Very carefully, you placed the case on the floor, opening it to find a beautiful vintage Stratocaster. One very much like Jimi Hendrix used to play. Knowing the man who had given it to you, it was the genuine article.

Without noticing the way he'd been watching you, you closed the case back up and practically ran to The Doctor, throwing yourself at him in a hug. The impact and the way you pushed him into the console knocked some of the wind out of him. "Why does there always have to be hugging?!" He struggled to exclaim as you squeezed him tightly.

"I really can't help it right now." You kissed his cheek and gave him one more squeeze before mercifully letting him go. "Thank you, Doctor. Seriously."

"Don't mention it. Really. I only wanted to stop you playing mine so much."

"That won't be a problem. Believe me."

Returning to the case like a giddy little kid, you took the guitar out and hooked it up to the amp. You missed the small smile on his face as you began to play a song for him.

The Doctor didn't plan to tell you that he had only acquired the guitar after your previous trip.

[aradassbadass]

im fried | d. dennis

you and your friend are in the club and you spot future… or you think you do.

the lights were dim, a little too dim some may say, but it didnt help that you were drunk either. too drunk, and well maybe a little high too.

“bro, is that future ?” you say to your friend, pulling her close, your eyes wide as you point to the dreaded man standing in the vip section.

“bitch!” she exclaims jumping up and down. “it is oh my god! OH MY GOD!”

a grin finds its way to your face as you look at her.

“im the shit bitch i know.” you say smugly. “ im going to go ask for a picture come one.”

you feel her hand grab your belt loop as she follows you throughout the sea of people, a chorus of excuse me’s and sorry’s stream from your lips as you finally get to the edge of his section. as you are looking up at him you notice the diamond smile he had on his face.

“sir, sir excuse me” you say, well yell. the noise was deafening.

he glances down at you and the smile widens.

“yes gorgeous.” he says, a slight southern drawl playing on his tongue and from the sound of that you should have know that it was indeed not mr hendrix as you had initially anticipated.

“ i love your music!” you say exclaim happily.

“ im sorry, what you say?” he questions leaning down over the edge of the wall that was between you two.

“ i love your music,” you say getting closer to his ear giggling. “ cause i am fried yes fried and very fucked up” you recite the lyrics back to him.

a deep laugh errupts from his as he stands back up causing you to look at him quizzically.

“so, can i get a picture?” you yell, confusion setting in.

“ yeah, yall come on up here sweetheart.” he says the word sending shivers down your spine. he motions for you and your friend to come.

he walks over and meets you at the entrance signaling the man guarding it that you could enter.

you immediately go in for a hug without thinking and your friend who is prepared snaps the picture.

“ oh ok, damn.” he laughs wrapping his arms around you large hands gripping your waist. you cant help but bask in his scent. it exudes sex and masculinity. it smells exactly as he look.

“you smell so good.” you say looking up at him head still resting on his chest.

the look he gives you says it all. “ thank ya.” he says smiling at you then licks his lips.

“ yo friend want one too mama?” he asks lowly eyes still locked on yours.

“oh, shit yeah.” you say pulling away, sighing at the loss of his body against yours.

“here girl.” you say reaching for the phone.

she goes over and just wraps her arm around his waist and his over her shoulder, the other going up into a peace sign. a sense of satisfaction arises in you as you see he didnt embrace her just like he did you but leaves as soon as you see the big smile on her face. she was happy for you and you the same for her, besides he wasnt your man anyway.

you click a few pictures and then she pulls away and thanks him coming back over to you and grabbing the phone to look at them

“yall wanna chill with us for a lil bit?” he asks motioning to the group of guys surrounding him.

“yeah.” you reply without even realizing, looking at your friend and she nods too.

“type shit” he says. you both follow him to the couch and as he sits he leaves room for you both on the side of him.

“so where yall from?” he asks looking between the both of you.

“ texas, but we go to school out here!” your friend answers smiling.

“type shit, what yall studying?” he asks curiosity genuine.

“im working on my masters in business and she is currently working on a phd in biology.” she says motioning to you. “she really smart as hell. tell him bout your research” she says smirking at you and you smile in response, her way of saying he yours girl.

his eyes widens as he look at you and you begin to explain, “ uh yeah my thesis is on the rate of duplication in cancer cells in african americans.”

“oh shit, you gone be a doctor.” he asks.

“thats the goal but i dont know shit is crazy.” you say staring at him. as you look you start to realize he is lacking nose piercings and the signature blond on his dreads.

your eyes widen as you come to the realization. “oh my God youre not future.” you exclaim standing up.

a loud laugh erupts from him and your friend stand up as well when she realizes this and she moves to your side.

“thats who you thought i was?” he is able to say between his laugh.

embarrassment burns through your body at this and you begin slightly angry.

“obviously!” you say irritation heavy in your voice.

as he notices this his laugh stops and smile drops.

“yo calm down.” he says reaching a hand out to grab yours and you pull away disgust on your face.

“dont fucking touch me.” you say grabbing your friend. “come on lets go.” you say grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the exit.

“what the fuck.” you hear him say behind you. you dont care, not only did he laugh at you, he lied to you. or at least in your eyes he did and that alone was enough to piss you off and ruin your night- your high too.

yall im really rusty at writing but i got the idea for this when i was high & i think i wanna do another part or two ! let me know what yall think cause there aint enough on here about dada

[do-it-jakey-baby]

Fourth of July

Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Synopsis: Sam hated you, it was evident in the way that he spoke to you every time you saw him, but one Fouth of July weekend, everything changes.

Warnings: smut, adult themes, unprotected sex, enemies to lovers, profanity, drinking, mean Sam, soft Sam

18+, MINORS DNI

Your tyres crunched along the gravel as you navigated across the parking lot, until you found the perfect wide space for your Land Rover Defender. You parked up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and making your way to the trunk. You open it up, your furry little companion barking with excitement, scrunching his nose and panting.

“Hey, boy! Ready for a weekend of adventure?” You giggle, ruffling the curls on the top of his head. He jumps down from the car and runs alongside you, looking up every so often to make sure you’re still there. You’re back in Michigan for the Fourth of July weekend, celebrating as usual with your best friends at a cabin your rent every year for the festivities. As you round the corner, you spot a familiar face. Sighing, you prepare yourself for whatever he has in store for you today. He’s bent down, picking up crates of beer to take into the cabin, but peers up as he hears your boots traipsing through the stony ground.

“What are you doing here?” He rolls his eyes, pushing his hair back as it falls around his face.

“I come here every year, Sam. You know that.” You frown, already finding his presence unbearable.

“Just thought you might be busy this year.” He mumbles.

“Well I’m not. Would it kill you to not be a total jackass for like, five minutes?” You throw your hands up, exasperated. This wasn’t how you wanted your weekend to begin, especially after the week from hell you’d just endured.

“That wouldn’t be very me of me, would it?” He scoffs, smirking slightly.

“No, it certainly would not.”

He cocks his head to the side, still sporting that infuriating smirk. “What, no smartass remark?”

You sigh, rubbing your hand across your forehead. “I don’t have the energy for you today, Sam. Why don’t you just pretend like I’m not here, avoid me and I’ll avoid you.”

His smirk suddenly vanishes from his face, replaced with an expression you can’t quite read. He stands, taking a step towards you.

“You ok?”

You recoil slightly, taking a step back and almost tripping over your dog. “Yes. Fine. I’ll be better when you leave me alone. Where are your brothers, anyway?” You tap your fingers impatiently against your thigh, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end. Your eyes scan the front of the cabin, finding no one else’s presence.

“Inside setting up. Why, you trying to ditch me already?”

You scoff, your arms raising from your sides to cross over the front of your torso. “Ditch you? Sam, we never speak, let alone hang out together. You literally just asked me why I’m even here. So yeah, I’m looking for your brothers because they actually like me.”

He just stands there, staring at you with the same expression painted on his face. You raise your eyebrows at him, confusion taking hold at his out-of-character behaviour. In the 6 years you’ve known him, he’s never once asked you if you’re ok. He doesn’t take an interest in you, and is never nice.

“I’m really not in the mood for this today. Please, can we not do this.”

He looks momentarily defeated, but quickly shakes it off with a shrug of his shoulders. He bends back down, picking up the crate of beer. Thank god for that. You take that as the end of the conversation, so move past him quickly and turn the handle to the door of the cabin, letting yourself in.

“Honey, I’m home!” You call out into the foyer. It only takes a fleeting moment for a mess of dark brown curls to round the corner, running directly to you and lifting you up into his toned arms.

“Peach!” He hollers at you, spinning you around.

“Daniel! Careful of Hendrix!” You giggle, holding onto his shoulders tightly.

He puts you down, placing a kiss to your cheek, then bends down to fuss over your dog.

“Henny, my man! You’re just as handsome as the last time I saw you, buddy!”

Hendrix wastes no time flopping down onto his back, showcasing his tummy eagerly. Danny obliges, giving plenty of loving pets.

“When did you get here?”

He looks up at you from the floor, still running his hands over Hendrix’s fluffy coat. “Like, twenty minutes ago? Got unloaded pretty quickly. Sam is just helping Jake fill up the bar, fuck knows where Josh is.”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You grin, watching as Josh enters the room, his arms outstretched to you.

“Beautiful girl, how are you?” He coos into your ear as he envelopes you in a bear hug.

“Could be better, but let’s not fixate on that. I’m here to have a good time with my best friends.”

“But we can talk about it at some point right?” He pulls back slightly, giving you a concerned look.

“Maybe, but not now. Please.”

Just like always, your saving grace plods into the room. Jake pushes the sunglasses that are sat low on his nose up into his hair, smiling brightly at you.

“I thought I felt the temperature raise, the sunshine has returned. Hi, sugar.” He places his hands onto your shoulders, giving you the once over before kissing your cheek softly.

“Hi Jacob.” You giggle, scrunching your nose.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. You look up to see Sam stood in the doorway, his steely expression fixed on you. You audibly sigh, feeling deflated again after such a warm reception.

“I’m uh, gunna go get a drink.”

You exit the room hastily, making a beeline for the bar. You find a lowball, fill it with ice, then pour yourself some neat whiskey. The good kind that Jake always keeps generously stocked. You swirl the amber liquid around in the glass, then take a hearty glug, savouring the burn as it slips down your throat. You take a few centering breaths, but are interrupted when you feel a presence in the room with you. It moves from the door to beside you, a pair of hands reaching out to grasp the bottle of whiskey.

“Didn’t know you liked this stuff.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Sam.” You huff, taking another swig from your glass. “I wasn’t joking when I said I’m not in the mood for you and your attitude today.”

He leans on the counter next to you. “I’m not trying to have an attitude with you now though, am I?”

“Makes a change.”

He smirks at you, pissing you off even further. “Sam. I said I’m not in the mood, leave me alone. I’ve-” You sigh loudly, raking your hands through your hair. “Never mind…”

Sam places his hand on your arm, causing you to turn and face him in shock. His face softens for a moment, then turns more serious. “No… what were you going to say?”

You feel yourself reaching boiling point, your hand darting out to grasp onto your glass as you knock back the rest of your whiskey. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, slamming the lowball down onto the counter. “Fine, you wanna know so badly? I’ve had a really shitty week. My boyfriend broke up with me and now I have to move out of my apartment. Happy now? You wanna give me some sort of snide comment about how he must be so happy to be rid of me? Go ahead, Sam. I’m all fucking ears.” You grit your teeth, bracing yourself.

Sam clenches his jaw, his eyes studying your face intricately. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing within his throat. He’s just standing there, looking at you. What a fucking prick.

“Are you really just gunna stand there and stare at me?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, like he’s deciding on if he should say something or not. You’re tired of waiting now, so you begin to push past him to leave the room and find solace amongst real friends. That is, until his hand darts out and firmly grabs onto your wrist.

“Wait.” He mumbles.

You tug on your arm, but it’s no use. He’s got a vice-like grip onto you. Tears sting in your eyes, a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “Sam, what are you doing?! Let me go.”

His eyes widen and he loosens his grip ever so slightly. “Please, I don’t want you to go. I’m sorry.”

Your face contorts, your confusion displayed clearly across it as you struggle to figure out on earth is going on. “You don’t want me to go? Why? Fucking hell, Sam, you’re giving me whiplash.”

“I, uh-, I don’t like seeing you sad.” He mumbles, his fingers now rubbing along the pulse point of your wrist.

“What the fuck has gotten into you? That’s bullshit, and you know it.” You spit, feeling the fury rising within your stomach.

Sam’s face falls, he looks genuinely upset by your words. “That’s not true.”

You frown at him, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of deceit but you find that he’s actually being genuine for once. “Then why are you so mean to me all the time?”

He swallows again, seemly caught in an internal battle. His eyes dart around the area, looking at anything but you.

“You know what, Sam? If you can’t answer me then I have nothing more to say to you.” You had lost all patience at this point, wanting nothing more than to rejoin the others. You attempted to snatch your wrist back, but Sam’s grip tightens once more.

“You want to know why I’m so mean to you?”

“Obviously, hence me asking.” You roll your eyes.

“Because it’s the only way I could make sure you thought about me.”

You furrow your brow. “What?”

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve never had your full attention. You’re always distracted by other people, always laughing and joking and having fun with anyone but me. But when I’m mean, you look at me. You notice me.” He whispers.

“Sam, you’re confusing me so much. Why don’t you just talk to me like a normal person?”

“Because I don’t know how to!” He raises his voice, slamming his hand down onto the counter. “I was afraid of getting closer to you. Afraid of rejection. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to admit how I’m feeling. How I’ve felt all this fucking time.”

Your eyes widen, the pieces slowly coming together to form the whole picture. “How you were… feeling?”

“I like you, ok? A lot.” He rubs his hand across his face.

“You… like me?”

“Christ, Y/N. Of course I fucking like you. I just never wanted you to know, so I’ve acted like a total ass.”

You stand there, staring blankly at the man before you who has just given you the most open and vulnerable conversation ever, revealing that he has feelings for you.

“Please say something.” He mutters.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent all this time thinking you hated me, now you’re telling me you like me? This is so overwhelming.”

“I don’t hate you, I could never hate you. I’m sorry.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

Oh, god. Forever. Like, a stupidly long time.”

“And you never thought to say anything to me, at all?”

Sam lets out a dry laugh. “I thought about it, but then I saw how you are with my brothers, with Daniel. The way you light up a room. How nice you are to everyone. I knew I’d just drag you down, or not be good enough for you. Then you started dating that dickhead. So I kept it to myself and did what I could to get you out of my head. But it never worked.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t really know, I guess it just kinda came out. I felt bad that I’d upset you while you’re going through shit.” He steps closer to you, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses completely. It’s so undeniably Sam, earthy and musky, reminiscent of the incense he frequently burns. You feel yourself gravitating towards him, like there’s a magnetic pull between the two of you. He notices the proximity, so reaches out and pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Sammy.” You whisper.

You hear his breath hitch in his throat. “You’ve never called me that before.” He whispers. His fingers are still in your hair, trailing down to stroke against the side of your face.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Sam swallows thickly, before nodding. “Yeah, of course.”

You take a deep breath, about to spill your own truth. “When I first met you, when I was over at Danny’s house that day, I had the biggest crush on you. I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever laid eyes on. To begin with, you were nice to me, but then you turned so suddenly. It kinda broke my heart, y’know. I’ve spent so many years trying to chisel away at you, hoping that someday you’d stop hating me. But you never did.” You sigh, feeling extremely vulnerable.

Sam grimaces, his thumb ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I was just terrified of my feelings. I’m so sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I acted like such a dickhead.”

Before you can stop yourself, your hand darts up to Sam’s face, cupping his cheek. He sucks in a sharp breath, the proximity between you both now considerably smaller. He moves his hand from the side of your face to the back of your neck, massaging his fingers into the nape. Your lips part slightly at the feeling, and you watch as his eyes darken.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He says in a low growl. His face is now only inches away from yours. You can feel his breath, hot and fragrant with the lingering scent of the Topo Chico he had whilst unpacking. In a moment of weakness, you close the gap. Your lips brush against his lightly, eliciting a groan from deep inside his chest. He kisses you back, his grip on your neck growing tighter. His lips move against yours desperately, like he would perish without the contact. He steps forward, pushing you up against the counter. You let out a soft whine into his mouth as the kiss deepens, your hands sliding up the back of his shirt and tracing patterns on his soft skin. You feel him shudder under your touch, pulling you closer and enveloping you in him. His tongue begs for entrance into your mouth, and you oblige, letting it mingle with yours.

Suddenly, you pull back. Your eyes widen as you realise what’s happening, and the speed in which it is. “Sam, what are we doing?”

“I have no idea, but I don’t want it to stop.” He mutters, his arms still wrapped around you.

You feel conflicted. One the one hand, this is something that you’ve secretly always wanted. But on the other, you found it hard to just forget the years of torment that he had put you through. “I don’t know if I can do this. You really hurt me over the years, regardless of how I felt about you.”

Sam frowns. “Please.” He murmurs, his hands gripping into you. “Please, just let me prove that I’m not an asshole. Let me make it up to you. I know I don’t deserve it, believe me I do. Just give me a chance to show you what I can really be like.”

You rest your forehead on his. “I don’t know. God, you make it so hard to say no.”

He closes his eyes. “Then don’t, angel.”

Something inside of you snaps at the pet name, igniting a raging inferno. “Fuck it.” You snake your hands up to his face, pulling him closer and kissing his lips hungrily. His hands drop down to your hips, gripping onto them firmly as he yanks you into him. His desire for you is on full display, evident in the way that he’s kissing you back.

“God, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this.” He whispers between kisses.

You hitch your leg up around his waist and his hand moves to cradle your thigh. You feel your body growing hotter as the situation unfolds, the pressure in the pit of your stomach almost unbearable. His lips drift from yours and down onto your neck, lightly nipping against the sensitive skin. You let out a soft moan, which he seems to enjoy judging by how he’s straining against you.

“Take me to your room.” You pant.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He bends and picks you up in one swift movement, your legs wrapping around him as he hurries across the hall and through the bedroom door. He throws you down onto the bed, a menacing look in his eye.

“Are we really doing this?”

“I fucking hope so. Only if you’re comfortable with it, angel.”

You grab onto him, pulling him down onto the bed. You climb over, straddling his lap and pressing yourself down onto him, feeling every inch of his body.

“You feel so good. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve imagined you like this.”

You begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, gazing down at him. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”

He lets out a shaky breath as you begin to trail your lips down his neck. “I- fuck. I think about what it would feel like to have your hands on me, what you’d sound like when I find all the right spots, how you’d say my name breathlessly.”

“Like this?” You coo, splaying your hands across his now bare torso, grinding down onto him as you dig your nails in lightly.

He lets out a low, guttural moan, his hands grasping at the hemline of your t-shirt. You lift your arms up to allow him better access, feeling the material slide up and over your head. You aren’t wearing a bra today, which leaves you entirely naked from the waist up.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He leans forward and sucks your nipple into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping over the sensitive bud. Your back arches at the contact, a soft whimper falling from your lips.

“God, those pretty noises. You drive me crazy, Y/N.”

“Keep it up and you’ll hear more.” You smirk.

His eyes rake over your body hungrily as he explores you with his hands, getting to know every inch. “I’m going to savour every goddamn second of this.” He growls, flipping you over so that your back is pressed against the mattress. You writhe against him, the electricity of the atmosphere zapping in your ears and all over your body with every touch. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sends shockwaves through you. Your thumb drifts up to his bottom lip, pulling it down lightly. He takes it into his mouth and bites the tip, causing your eyes to flutter back into your head. He manoeuvres himself down the bed, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them down slowly, then makes light work of sliding your panties over your hips. He bunches them up into his hand, putting them in his pocket.

“Souvenir.” He winks.

“You’re gross!” You giggle, pulling him towards you for another kiss. You feel your jaw fly open as he drags his middle finger up through your folds, teasing your entrance.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“It’s all for you.” You breath.

A low growl rumbles from his chest as he begins to work circles over your clit with the pad of his thumb. You suck in a sharp breath at the feeling blossoming between your legs, Sam getting you exactly where you need to be at a frightening pace. You begin to claw at his belt buckle, but he grabs onto your wrist and pins it up above your head.

“This is about you right now, angel.” He clicks his tongue, quickening his fingers as you squirm beneath him. You’ve always wondered how it would feel to be at the hands of Sam. You used to watch in awe as he picked away at his bass on stage, the way he’d throw his head back when he got lost in the music. He was exceptionally talented with his hands, and now you were finding out about the other side of his skill. As you’re transfixed on the feeling, you don’t realise he’s now lowered himself down even further until his tongue makes contact with your clit. You gasp, bundling your hands into his silky waves. He focuses his tongue on your sweet spot, whilst pumping two fingers in and out of you, curling up to reach where you need it most. You’re unravelling rapidly, your breaths laboured as he coaxes your climax from you.

“Sammmm.” You whine.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you. M’gunna take care of you like I always should have.”

You feel your legs shudder as his words tip you over the edge. He works you through it steadily, his lips ghosting over your neck and collarbones. You sigh softly, then prop yourself up onto your elbows.

“Take your fucking pants off.”

Sam looks momentarily taken aback by your brashness, but its quickly replaced as a devious grin spreads across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stands and fulfils your request, unbuckling his belt and letting it thud to the floor. He pops the button and unzips, sliding the pants over this thighs and letting them pool around his ankles. He steps out, kicking them backwards and stands proudly in front of you.

“Lose the boxers, too.”

He smirks, flicking his fingers into the waistband and taking them off, meeting the same fate as his pants in a pile behind him. God, he’s gorgeous.

You beckon him towards you with your finger, looking up at him with lust filled eyes. He moves to hover over you, but you wag your finger in front of his face. “On the bed next to me.”

He lays down beside you and you raise up onto your thighs, climbing over and straddling him. His eyes widen as you take him into your hand, pumping a few times, then line him up with your entrance and slide down onto him until he’s filled you completely. He lets out a strangled cry, his hands flying up to grip into the meat of your hips. You begin to lift up, starting with an agonisingly slow pace. Sam’s eyes meet yours, pleading for further movement.

“Oh, you want more?” You tease, changing pace immediately and bouncing up and down with force.

“Fuck!” He chokes, his fingernails digging into your skin, marking you for days to come. He drives up to meet you, the tension in the air thick as your sweaty bodies blend together effortlessly. Everything is a blur as you both reach your peaks together, your movements becoming sloppy as the pleasure consumes you. His hand snakes up between your breasts and grips around your throat, constricting the blood flow and making your head feel deliciously fuzzy. Your walls begin to flutter, so Sam reaches forward and teases your clit, his left hand still wrapped tightly around your neck. He stares into your eyes, his pupils blown wide, mouthing cum for me. You let out an obscene moan, tipping your head back in ecstasy as the pleasure washes over you like the sunshine on a summer’s day. Sam’s hands fly to your hips, pulling you down onto him roughly as he reaches his own release.

“Holy shit.” He gasps as he twitches inside you.

You press your forehead to his and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He whispers, sweat dripping down his brow. He kisses your lips with a newfound passion, letting his tongue swipe against your bottom lip. You place your fingertips gently on his cheeks, tracing them down to his jawline.

“I forgive you.” You smile, watching his face light up.

He kisses you again, over and over. “Thank you. Thank you.” He chants, squeezing you impossibly hard as you giggle in his arms.

“I suppose we should uh, clean ourselves up and re-join the others.” You chuckle.

“Yeah, they probably think we’ve killed each other.” Sam grins.

You both re-dress, using the bathroom in Sam’s room to fix your hair and smudged make-up, then exit the room one by one. As you enter the living area, you’re met with 3 pairs of eyes staring at you. You give them a sheepish smile, rubbing your elbow nervously.

“Fucking finally.” Jake smirks.

You throw your head in your hands, your face flushing the deepest shade of crimson. Sam bristles beside you as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You owe me $20, cough up!” Jake nudges Josh, who is rolling his eyes.

“You guys made a bet?!” You scold, glaring at them.

“Oh honey, this bet has been going on for longer than you can imagine.” Josh laughs, sending you a wink.

“Yeah, yeah. Can we not. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” Sam places his arm around you, causing all of the hairs on your body stand to attention. The display of affection in front of his brothers is truly heartwarming, and you know in that moment you made the right decision.

“Shall we go grab a drink?” He whispers, smiling down at you.

“I’d love that.”

As you walk off into the kitchen, you hear the muffled sounds of the three boys engaged in a lively conversation.

“I always knew they’d find each other one day.”

~

To be continued… ?