#xo fuckers

[the-kipsabian]

What is DBru?

death by roll-up! clothing brand by chris brookes :)

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[bucknastysbabe]

hello hello lovely

saw that your requests were still open, and I’m craving Aegon. need your precious writing to revamp my love for him 💓

could I request chubby!Aegon where the reader becomes jealous and he makes it up to her? don’t have anything specific in mind just along those lines. I need that big boy to grovel 🫠

thank you, appreciate you 💋

- @lovelykhaleesiii xo

Anything for you my helina🥰🥰loved writing this

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: mention of overeating, mentioned weight gain, chubby!aegon, au!no war, northern reader, pwp, Aegon being aegon, breeding kink, pnv!sex, certified boob man aeg ii, lactation kink mentioned, creampie

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @dr-aegon @starogeorgina @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell @zaldritzosrose @sugarpoppss2 @saintaegon @fairysluna @targaryen-madness

Aegon could put on a farce with the best of the mummers. He was all smiles and drunken japes at dinner. Talking, eating, talking, eating, and his favorite— drinking. Your husband’s abilities appeared to grow along with his new titles. He was a king now and certainly filled the part.

You sat next to him with a pinched face, carefully sipping your wine. Aemond looked on with barely concealed disgust, sharp features twitching. He raised a brow at you, jerking his sharp chin toward your husband. Aemond’s need for control might be worse than your own. The king was the king, there was not much you could do outside the bedroom. Aegon was chatting with Lord Jason Lannister. You despised the Westerman and what he represented, the Northron blood in you appalled at the South’s materialism.

Jason snorted, “Well, you’ve heard of the petulant princess down in Dorne hm? Fashions herself the new Nymeria. Heard she’s quite beautiful.”

Aegon replied around a gulp of wine, “Is it them or the Iron Islanders that take on all those wives? She can join my harem. I do know the Dornish are easy, much easier than mine own wife.” He leaned forward on thick arms to jest, “Pray tell, what’s this Martell’s name? Mayhaps I’ll send a letter.”

The pair guffawed. You quietly put your cup down and excused yourself. Aegon called after you between his giggles, “My love! Come on! Take a damn joke, yeah?”

You seethed, blood icy at his embarrassing behavior. He knew better than to insult you, his queen, the one he came crying to when times got hard. Your kingsguard filtered in behind you, scrambling to catch up. Ser Darklyn’s questions were ignored.

Safe in your chambers, you pulled down the kady bar. Rage unfurled beneath your skin— you would not show it to him. You never did unless it was a slap to his full cheeks. A tear fell, the droplet smacked away like a pest. You’d go to sleep, Aegon could wait until you’d calmed.

“Fucker. Southron cock-gargler.”

As expected, his familiar presence came to crawling. Well, flopping onto your bed with his weight, the ropes creaking as he cursed lowly. Aegon cursed, “Fuckin’ damn- beds!” You jerked up your legs, sitting upright to light a candle, blinking the little sleep out of your eyes.

The blonde frowned at the dim light, chubby cheeks pooching at the movement. He wore a simple linen shirt and breeches, white hair all mussed. You frowned at your thoughts turning soft, as your lord husband looked handsome in the gentle lighting.

Aegon murmured, thick fingers circling your ankle, “Are you upset? I was merely joking.”

“No, go on, take a mistress from every great house if you so desire, my king.”

His violet eyes rolled at your acrid reply, the man coming closer to your position. He sighed, “I don’t plan on it, why would I do that?” Narrowing your eyes, you threw a pillow at his head to escape further across the bed. Aegon grunted as he was pelted, the blonde casted a bewildered look your way, brows pinched.

“I don’t want to hear it, that was shameful to speak as if I were not there, go away Aegon,” you hissed.

He groaned loudly, hand running through his wild waves. The king asked, face dead serious “Do I need to beg? Hm? My frozen queen of the north is the only one I’m fucking. Sweetling wants to see me grovel?”

Your stomach fluttered at the thought, eyes flicking to his earnest expression across the bed. You sniffed quietly, holding out a hand, “Yes. I want you to beg for me. Then maybe I’ll forget the slight. You talk like such a whore at the table yet you forget who rules your cock.”

He moaned, eyes rolling at the words before taking your hand and lowering himself with a grunt. Aegon looked up through his lashes, plump lips pink and perfect. He murmured, “Can’t believe you. Lady wants me to grovel. All I do is think about my wife day and night.”

You stared him down, pleased so far.

“I’m not seeing anyone, nor do I care to. I’m not some young little slip anymore. Too busy eating your cunt than diving into every hole up the street of silk, yeah? Maybe that’s why I can’t close my belt?”

You moaned, “I didn’t make you, ah, you do that Aegon.”

“Mhm, that’s why you slide me extra cake. Now, what was I saying,” he was kissing an ankle now, carefully holding your leg, “Why would I go get some bratty Dornish nymphet, or any other lady for that matter? I’ve fucked a babe into you twice now. It’s a bit intoxicating watching you ripen up with my seed.”

You whined at that, resolved to break soon. Being pregnant with the children was some of your fondest moments. Some most erotic from your insatiable husband. His increased weight? Likely came from him drinking your tits up every night before each babe.

Aegon hummed, eyes blown with lust, lips at your knee. The king rasped, “I’d like to fuck more into you tonight if you’ll forgive me, I only love my queen. Always and truly ever you, sweeting. Mayhaps twins? Your teats will be quite ripe for me then.”

You gasped and pulled his shoulders, Aegon already knew the intention as he hiked up your shift and yanked it off. In a flurry of movement, you pulled at the strings on his breeches while he exposed his thickened body. He was stout, not necessarily a true softling. It made the king more intimidating, with wide hips and a sturdy midsection. You loved it.

“Uh-huh, you’re gonna fuck twins into me? That’s a way to make up for being an absolute t-twat.”

You tried to hiss but there was no real heat, especially with his soft lips against your neck, gluttonous hands on your tits. Aegon pressed your naked form into the bed, his flushed cock snug against your thigh. Delicate white hair tickled at your neck as you squirmed. The king’s bulk had you utterly pinned, stocky thighs keeping your legs open.

He nipped at thin skin, laughing, “Where’s all the cold anger hm? Needed to be coddled and warmed up? You’re no better than me, love.”

Another shiver ran up your spine, goosebumps erupting atop your skin. You hooked a leg around his cushy waist and gritted, “Kiss me dammit. You were the ass here.” He laughed again, lips searching your own, the familiar plush a balm to your stung pride.

You opened up for him, lips lazily caressing against Aegon’s more insistent kisses, tongue bullying its way in. He gripped at your waist, rutting a few times against your cunt. The bulbous tip catching your clit made you whine and cling to his fleshy sides.

The Targaryen breathed, “Never takes you long to get all nice and slick for me huh? Turn your nose up but your pussy gets wet. Every. Damn. Time.” He punctuated his words with jerks of his hips and grinned as you cursed his name, arching into his soft belly.

You rolled back against him, demanding, “Enough talk, you’re here to make it up. Ah, careful,” you chastised as he pulled one of your tits up to bite at your budded nipple, “Fuck me dammit! Breed me up then!”

Aegon grinned sharply, cooing, “Why didn’t you just say so, dearest? I’ll make sure you take it all.”

He shoved a pillow under your flared hips, pressing gentler kisses on any available skin. Aegon huffed as he jerked his hand under a heavy stomach to grab his cock, guiding it into your soaked cunt. Your knees tightened up around him, exhaling a shaky moan.

He never failed to fill you up perfectly, with a girthy cock that he well knew how to use. Aegon groaned, lashes fluttering as he bottomed out, “Mmm, fuck, always so godsdamn soaked for your king.” One of his big hands clapped down on your ass— you threw your head back as he began to fuck you in earnest.

Aegon was an…excitable lover. He was mouthy and rough, a true passion of his to empty his balls into cunt. Thankfully, it was yours and yours only for the past years. You panted against his soft jaw, nipping at the flesh as he stretched your walls out, tip dragging against the tender ridges and spongey spots.

He angled you further, allowing his lower tummy to rub and stifle your bundle of nerves. You cried out his name, heaving as Aegon paid no heed, single-minded determination across his face. Shivers wracked your spine, shooting down your spread legs.

“Mhm, that’s my baby, shaking all over, needed my cock to settle you down? You say I’m needy. Yet your body screams for more.”

��F-fuck Aegon, quit it, oh gods!”

He took your lips again, sweat building up between you two as passions grew frantic. You keened. “Breed me, love, want more babes, make me yours again and again- hnn- mm!” Blood suffused your face, irritably hot as you registered the wanton pleas.

Aegon doubled down, hands pressing your thighs up, bending your stimulated frame. His belly still sat heavily on your clit, sparks of pleasure muddling any sort of coherence. Aegon was panting now, hair damp with exertion. He growled, “Yeah, yeah, gonna keep you full mama, let the kingdom see how well my queen takes my seed. Gods, gods, fucking hell, gonna fill you up. Plug ya’ so you don’t leak.”

You whimpered as your belly was awash with intense sensation, bundling nerves ready to fire. Aegon’s rambling about you being his perfect queen and good mama throttled you to the precipice, pussy clamping down on his cock. You wanted it all, your cunt was milking him for it. Seeking that hot feeling of his spend coating your sore insides.

“Fucking others!,” came your howl— your delirious thoughts catapulting you into gushing all over Aegon with a squeal. The king stuttered and cursed, a broken moan leaving swollen lips. He surged forward, dragging his tip against your cervix, face cutely scrunching as he emptied, shaking and moaning your name.

His spend was molten hot and overfilling your cunt, Aegon selfishly feeling around the side of the bed, crushing your overwhelmed body. He whined, “Fuuh-uck, love, feel too good, hold on.” You furrowed your brows before surprise hit your features.

That motherfucker was going to plug you up.

His lidded eyes danced as he drawled, “I wanted twins, mama.”

You squirmed and mewled when his cock left and a cold wedge replaced it. He shushed and pet you, kissing you tenderly as you grew used to the foreign object. You could feel his seed stuffed inside— trying not to dwell on it so hard. Aegon flopped onto his back, pulling your body snugly against his soft, warm one. You murmured, “That was some hell of an apology. Bastard.”

He sleepily murmured, “M’sorry dove, was mean. I’ll do better,” he squeezed you tight and planted a kiss on the crown of your head, “Only for my queen. Mmh, pray to your old gods— papa wants twins.”

You snorted, biting back laughter at his outright silly statement.

“Mhm Papa, prayers coming up. Sot.”

[landwriter]

I WANT LIGHTHOUSES SNIPPETS I AM FERAL FOR LIGHTHOUSES SNIPPETS JFC xo @hardly-an-escape

Then it is feralness you shall receive!! And I notice you said SNIPPETS plural so have a small bouquet of feral moments in this fic, in increasing length and feralness: Hob needing to borrow Dream's shower, accidentally cumming to the thought of your friend's smile, and wanting so bad it hurts your chest

(some NSFW under the cut)

Hob comes out of the shower shirtless with a towel around his neck. His hair is curling wet around his face. He did a poor job of drying himself. There’s beads of water caught like dew in his chest hair. A stray rivulet of water is running lower, down his furred belly. He’s dripping a puddle on the hardwood floor, and still glowing a little with exercise. Dream is certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Hey, thanks, man. I’ll get outta your hair now,” he says, unaware of the fact Dream is vividly imagining kneeling before him and following that rivulet of water with his tongue. He opens his mouth to speak.

“Naw,” says Matthew, as if Hob had been talking to him. “Stay for dinner and beer.”

Hob looks at Dream. He swallows heavily. “Yes,” he croaks. “Stay.”

Hob lights up. “Well, alright.”

“Right on,” says Matthew.

---

After kicking Hob out, he jacks off with an arm thrown over his face, because he doesn’t want to see anything else. Doesn’t want to be in this room or this life, a coward’s life, a greedy life, hungering after his friend.

If Hob ever saw it, he’d run.

Dream tries to exorcise the buzzing lust, curled sideways on his bed like a parenthesis and fucking into his fist, not taking his time with it like he normally does. He doesn’t want to take himself apart. He wants to tear himself apart. Wants this monstrous black hunger climbing up the inside of his ribs to be satisfied as quick as possible, so he can look Hob in the eye and talk to him without biting his tongue.

He thinks of good fucks he’s had, moments and pieces from them, stitched all together. It does nothing. It’s like purgatory. Limbo. Even as he twists his hand around his prick, crooks a leg and presses up on his hole with fingers, he’s blind with need and he still can’t fucking cum. He groans in frustration and squeezes his eyes shut, thinks of guys fucking him rough, hands ‘round his hips leaving bruises, pretty twinks with big eyes kneeling for him, the bar smell of leather and poppers and piss, hot tongue and spit on his hole, the warmth of another body, of bodies, of beckoning glances and smiles, of one smile, Hob’s smile, his easy grin, clear as day, the heat of him, the brush of his skin, his hands, restless and warm and big, with hair dusting the knuckles, fidgeting with a pencil, stroking the neck of a bottle, holding a cigarette—him him him—smiling and saying us poor fuckers.

And he comes back to himself a moment later, panting. He rolls away from the mess he made across his sheets to stare at the ceiling, limbs loose and soul damned.

He shouldn’t have waited. Should’ve climbed into Hob’s fucking lap instead of the chair next to him that first day, should’ve made a scene, should’ve known. Hob deserves someone who would see him straightaway for the marvel he is, and he didn’t. Didn’t see him until Hob had already seen someone else here.

He wouldn’t regret it with Hob.

---

He’s drank too much. He’s drank too much and this was stupid idea, actually, to bring Dream here. To sit next to him and hear fierce poetry about gay love, and desire, and touch. They’re across from each other now, and still it feels too close. Feels dangerous. He hasn’t been this sort of drunk since leaving home. The kind where he wants so badly it physically hurts. Like kneeling on broken concrete. Like a pulse. His hands itch. He needs a fuck, a fight, anything at all. Anything to stop him from quoting Shakespeare and staring too long at Dream’s lips and thinking of all the lines he heard tonight, coiled around his heart and throat, mocking him.

“I’ll wait,” he says, standing so hard on the knife edge of truth and discretion he thinks he won’t be able to walk away from this, or walk ever again after it. “I’d wait a hundred years for, for him. However long it takes.”

“You’re too loyal, Hob.” Dream looks disappointed with him. He wonders if it’s obvious, how fucked he is right now. He wonders if his want is rolling off of him, like fog, if Dream sees it. Or feels it, clinging to his skin, damp. If he’s repulsed. He doesn’t want to be pitied. Not by Dream. Not for this. There’s nothing wrong, being loyal. Nothing wrong waiting.

“Maybe. Maybe I am.” Hob’s eyes feel wet. He thinks about being a little kid and picking sea glass from the beaches of Sausalito, before they moved to Fort Wayne. He thinks about how the colours got dull by the time he was home, and how he’d put the soft-edged pebble of glass in his mouth, suck the salt off it, just to see it shining and transluscent again. Green, and clear, and amber, and sometimes, rarely, blue.

His head is swimming. Not swimming, no. Drowning. He’s a bad friend. He doesn’t want to be rescued. He wants to pull Dream down with him. Dream’s own lines rise up in his mouth like bile. He leans forward, defiant.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll, maybe I’ll save every breath in my lungs for him.”

“Don’t,” says Dream, jaw tight. “Don’t do that. Don’t take that from me.”

Hob hears the warning in his voice and wants to dash himself on it, wants to crash up on the rocks of the awful island Dream has made of himself if it means he’ll finally look at Hob with that white-hot attention he reserves for his secret love. “Why not,” he hears himself flatly say.

“I mean it, Hob.” Oh, he’s angry, now. Anger is a kind of heat. Maybe it’s the best he’ll get.

“Why not?” he repeats. He fumbles out a cigarette, lights it. He’ll play Dream’s mystery man for him. “C’mon, huh?” He takes a shaky drag and laughs, and raises his chin. “Why not? Why don’t you take something from me, then, and we’ll call it even?”

Dream, unblinking, sets his glass down on the table with a sharp thunk. A stupid little thrill races through Hob.

Shit, maybe he’ll deck me, if I’m lucky.

Instead, Dream reaches out and pulls the cigarette from his lips and puts it between his own. Hob sways forward. Dream takes a long drag and tilts his head back to blow the smoke past Hob. His throat is pale. Like the fucking moon. His eyes haven’t left Hob’s. Sharp wet seaglass. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thinks. Dream drops the cigarette in the ashtray between them and leans forward too. His voice is rough. “Like that?”

Hob is dizzy. His chest feels like it’s on fire. Like he’s been running miles too long, too hard. His lips are stuck parted. Soft. Fucked with wanting as the rest of him. He’d buried too much, and it filled him up, it’s all of him now, singing through every fibre of his body. “No,” he says, quiet. “More.” Dream shouldn’t be able to hear it in the noise of the bar. Hob can hardly hear himself over his pulse pounding in his ears, and maybe Dream doesn’t hear him at all, maybe he’s staring so hard at Hob’s mouth that he can just see the shape of the words. His lungs are going to burst.

Dream’s eyes flick back up to look at him. Not sea glass, no, the sea itself, all sunlit bright and unsecretly hungry. Looking at him, really looking at him.

“Who are you waiting for, Hob?” he asks.

Hob exhales.

[enretrogue]

𝗝𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦

༝༚༝༚ = Black/POC Works ⎢ 24’ Fic Rec M.List

ATTACK ON TITAN (SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN):

Multi-Character

Fluffy HCs Pt. 2 (Porco, Colt, Zeke, Reiner) — @spiteless-xo

‘Cause I Got My Love to Keep Me Warm (Eren, Mikasa, Porco) — @violetarks

Trigger Finger (Levi, Connie, Porco) — @ilyluffy

Their Favorite Body Part (Erwin, Eren, Armin, Porco, Reiner, Levi) — @tonilovessushi

College Majors (Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Porco, Reiner, Levi, Zeke) — @scumbagjaeger

Them w/ a Cling S/O (Mikasa, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, Porco, Marcel, Pieck, Levi, Hange, Erwin)— @420ruffy

Telling Him You’re Pregnant (Zeke, Eren, Porco, Reiner) — @marsbutterfly

Expecting (Levi, Eren, Porco) — @xokiddo

Poly Relationship (Porco + Reiner) — @vainilla-milk

Porco Galliard

Tired Porco Doesn’t Know Where He’s Laying — @mommypieck

Vacation w/ Porco — ^

Porco and Big Tummies — ^

Suddenly Becoming a Dad ⎢ As a Dad — @spiteless-xo

General NSFW HCs — ^

Make Me a Father — @roseofdarknessblog

Suffering the Consequences — ^

Northern Lights — ^

Everything Will Be Okay — ^

NSFW Alphabet — @scumbagjaeger

Breeding Kink (but make it angsty) — ^

College!Porco HCs — ^

How Do You Call Your Loverboy — @cafedanslanuit

Fitness Instructor Porco Galliard — ^

Blurb — @we-are-so-close

So Happy — ^

Yandere(ish) Porco Smut — ^

Game Over — @yeagerdaydreams

Off to Sleep — ^

Kind Regards, I’m Quitting — @persistent-peach

Red Tape — ^

Dad!Porco — @xokiddo

Protective!Porco — ^

Sugar Daddy!Porco — ^

Halloween Prompt — ^

Fan Service — @thegetoufather

Rugby Player Porco — ^

Pink Shorts — @fierydiamond

You Belong With Me— ^

Precipice ⎢ Ch. 2 — @mochalate

Blurb — @tangerinexwrites

“That’s for acting like a fucking brat today” — @fscottcatsgerald

Brat Taming — @nixie-writes-aot

Photo Album — @vainilla-milk

Porco Comforting You After Seeing Your Ex — @dabilove27

My Princess — @angelsdevils

HCs for Porco — @missmeinyourbones

No Strings Attached — @mvrtaiswriting

Husband!Porco ⎢ Part 2 ⎢ Part 3 ⎢ Part 4 — @lostinwildflowers

Brother’s Best Friend — @oneoftheextras

That’s My Smart Girl — @toorusluvr

Sister Fucker — @ilyluffy

Riding Porco HCs — @ackermansupremacy

Blood ‘n Guts — @luvhotline

BF!Porco Texts ⎢ Part 2 — @plutowrites

Your Daughter Calls Porco “Dad” — @tinyjeanmarco

Worth It — @literaltrashforeverything

Scratch — @whats-her-quirk

Porco Boyfriend Tweets — @re1nerisms

Show Him Who You Belong To — @jean-kayak ༝༚༝༚

Porco Having a Crush on You HCs — @bubbleteaimagine

THE GRAY MAN:

Court Gentry/Sierra Six

Polaroid — @renren-006

His Bonnie on the Side — @wiidvw ༝༚༝༚

Thoughts on Sierra Six as a Romantic Partner — @drivinmeinsane

We’ll Always Have Cuba — @companionjones

THE LAST OF US:

Joel Miller

Live From New York — @cowgurrrl

Beautiful Girls — ^

Love You — ^

Unknown — ^

I’m Still Standing — ^

My Girls — ^

Lucky — ^

Girls on Film — ^

I’m Just Ken — ^

Please Come Home For Christmas — ^

So This Is Love — ^

NCIS:

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Busted — @writeandsurvive

Babysitting — ^

Birthday Imagine — @kdogreads

Blind Dates — ^

Are You Done? — ^

Ain’t Woman Enough — ^

Annoyance — @lizzyk137

Surprise — @encryptidone

We Keep This Love In a Paragraph — @chiefdirector

You Ain’t Alone — @ash-whimsicalfanfic

[bearsinpotatosacks]

I wrote a snippet of Bones welcoming some new Starfleet medical cadets. I'm not sure exactly how training works for Starfleet doctors, but after watching ER, I get the idea that it works mostly the same. Start training, do your rotations as a third year medical student, but I like to imagine that once you've chosen your area, surgery, psych, etc, you have to do a rotation on each kind of Starfleet vessel. Maybe they start on a starbase, then go to small ships that may or may not need your specialisation, then end up on some of the big ships such as the Enterprise. Enjoy!

Words: 1136

Looking at the group of fresh faced cadets in front of him, he knew that coffee wasn’t going to be enough. He hated when they hosted cadets. Partially because the little fuckers didn’t leave him alone when he was working, anything and everything he did was ripped apart and he couldn’t walk for two seconds without some question that a stupidly simple answer. The other reason was that they didn’t pester him anywhere near enough when they were off duty. It was like they were trying to pack all their questions into their eight hour shift and then were too scared to hold break their silence. 

Part of the journey of being a medical student, at least in his opinion, was pestering your mentors. You had to really get on their nerves because no matter how much it pissed him off, he knew that they had to learn somehow. And the ones who disregarded his gruff exterior, who plucked up the courage to ask him questions ten minutes after he’d woken up, or ten minutes before he was going to bed, were the ones who he answered. Not the fifth one in a row who’d stopped him as he went to go and check on a scan for a patient. There was a time and place for bothering him and these cadets never seemed to learn when that was. 

“Welcome to your rotation on board a constitution class vessel,” he said, not bothering to put any effort into the script they gave him to say. “This is where you’ll learn about the vital part you play, yada yada yada, be on the cutting edge of discoveries, yada yada yada, and face the final frontier.”

He rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. “Now that the mandatory stuff’s out of the way, here’s your real induction.”

The cadets looked at each other confused. Ah, so naive, they didn’t know about his reputation yet. Good, he wanted them to be shocked when they learnt how he really was. 

“Real induction, sir?” One of the cadets, who looked unnaturally groomed for someone standing in a sickbay, said.

He held up a finger and stopped the cadet before he continued. “First rule of sickbay, no one is sir, especially me, if you call me sir, I will not answer.” They seemed more puzzled. “You can call me Doctor, but that might get confusing fast, McCoy, Leonard, Len, or any number of curse words or well divised nicknames that I have no doubt the nurses will teach you in your time here, will suffice.”

They wrote that down. He almost laughed, but decided against it, he didn’t want to confuse them any further. Seeing them all so fresh faced was rather jarring for someone like himself. Medicine was in his blood, so to speak, it felt like a lifetime ago that he was in their place, all squeaky clean. Yet again, he hadn’t trained in Starfleet. And that was another point. 

“Who can hazard a guess as to why I don’t like being called sir, or by my rank for that matter?” 

Scanning the crowd, he didn’t see any hands popping up. Disappointing, he at least expected one person to be enough of a swot to look into the crew of the Enterprise. None of them were surprised when they saw Jim was their Captain, or Spock was XO, yet none of them did research into the department they were going to work in?

A sigh was on his lips as a cadet, near the back with her hair suitably tied out of her face, raised her hand. 

“Yes, Ms?”

“Cotteril.” She answered. “Is it because you didn’t train with Starfleet?”

“Bingo! I trained in Atlanta, Georgia, and despite the wonders we’ve made in socio-economic policies in the last few hundred years, some places remain rough, and nowhere else is that seen than in large cities. So trust me when I say, I am a doctor more than I am an officer of Starfleet, and I expect every single medical professional who works on this ship to follow that same rule of code.”

He stopped with the half hearted attempts at humour and made sure to stare across the group. A few of them gulped, some were either confused, or others annoyed. 

“My father, god rest his soul, was a doctor in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, so I learnt medicine in the best way you can, the messy way. My first experience in the medical field was helping a horse with a c-section because there ain’t no vet hospitals in the Appalachian Mountains, I can tell you that for free.” His accent was coming out now, it always did when he talked of his childhood home. “And I want you all to understand that when you walk into my sickbay you leave your politics at the door, understand?”

They didn’t reply. 

“Excuse me, I thought I asked y’all a question.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“Good, because if you have Vulcan with a sprain and a Klingon bleeding out, I expect every one of y’all to pick the Klingon,” He gestured at them with his coffee mug, a splash got on the floor. “So, repeat after me, the Hippocratic Oath is my Prime Directive.”

“‘The Hippocratic Oath is my Prime Directive’” The group chorused.

He nodded at them again, “Good, you may now step into sickbay.”

Turning around he gestured for them to follow. He’d never say the q-word, but he was grateful that there weren’t a lot of people in today. The last thing he needed was some part of engineering breaking and causing an overflow of red shirts. They weren’t the best of friends, engineers and those in sickbay, and it wouldn’t be such a problem if they knew some kind of first aid down there. 

“I will give you a full introduction of staff when we do rounds, but first I'll give you lesson number two of serving in the Enterprise sickbay,” he turned on his heel to face them. “Do not disrespect a nurse. Not only because they do some of the most vital and downright disgusting jobs there are to do, they set up the beds, machinery, administer the drugs, take samples and bathe the crew when the replicators malfunction and start spewing rotten fish guts in the mess hall, don’t laugh that happened last Tuesday, but also because if you do you will get doing rectal exams for most of your time here while also, most definitely, getting a mystery hypo that will make your dick turn purple, if you have one, or make you grow one if you don’t, and you won’t even feel it either. Understand?”

Yet again, more confused faces. One cadet was looking down at his trousers, concerned. 

“Excellent, now for the tour.”

-----

Take this an early WIP wednesday, I guess? I'm not sure if this will go anywhere apart from this snippet, but it could. I mainly just had this scene fully written in my head this morning and finally had a chance to write it.

[stardate44002point3]

Shaw's Quint speech

Shaw's Quint speech was exactly what we needed to understand where he's been coming from all season. The man was deeply traumatized by the Battle of Wolf 359; not just the terror of all that death and destruction but also the guilt at the sheer capriciousness (and, in his mind, injustice) of his own survival.

It's clear from the comments in the first episode, that he's had a successful career since, he might be a little more conservative in his captaincy style than Picard or Riker would be, but he's obviously a good Captain. He's been in command of the Titan for five years, he has a lot of successful missions under his belt. He has obviously worked hard to put his trauma behind him and move on with his life.

He even selected an ex-Borg XO; recognizing that she has strengths to bring to his command, that he doesn't have. He might have to compartmentalize a little by referring to Seven by her human, not Borg name, but that's a) possibly because that's the name on file for her with Starfleet and b) if she truly had a problem with it (I've seen it described as "abuse" on reddit) then she could request, and almost certainly get, a transfer. There is no indication anywhere that Starfleet would permit a hostile work environment if the victim protested.

All that being said, Shaw has probably spent the last 34 years secretly praying to whatever gods he has that he would never come across Picard in person. If anything qualifies as a trauma trigger, seeing Locutus in the flesh, hearing that voice in person, would qualify.

And, with Picard retired, probably thought he'd succeeded.

And then the fucker shows up on his ship, unannounced, with some bullshit story to get him to ignore his actual orders and head off to the edge of Federation space.

Can you even imagine the kind of trauma response that would generate? No matter how well he has recovered from Wolf 359; no matter how much work he has done on himself - that has to be massively triggering. Hearing that voice, seeing that persona, walking and talking on his ship, even 34 years later.

And does he get time to work through it? Does he fuck.

He gets thrown into a life or death situation, for him and his crew, that he clearly tries very hard to protect; gets injured, drugged and then has to wait for his ship and everyone on it to die.

No wonder he goes off on Picard. And it's not relevant at this point that Picard was a victim too, trauma triggers aren't rational, they are visceral. And Picard is the direct cause of his current predicament (and the incipient death of his crew of 500).

I liked Shaw when we first saw him because he was right; Riker and Picard tried to bullshit him into risking his crew, and he wasn't having any of it (just as they wouldn't have if a retired Admiral and paid-off captain had shown up on the Enterprise 30 years earlier and pulled the same shit on them).

I'm not a fan of protagonist-centered morality (which is something that has always been far too common in ST) and I really liked seeing Picard up against someone who wasn't going to be intimidated by the legend.

The Quint speech just makes him all the more sympathetic.

[glass-frogs-and-dragons]

Who would you call if the world was ending?

Prompt 887 by @creativepromptsforwriting (@creativepromptfills xo)

Fandom: DC

Summary: The world is ending and, of all the people he could have called, Jason ends up calling Bruce

Pairing: Jason Todd/ Roy Harper (minor)

Beep beep. Beep beep.

The caller you are trying to reach is occupied or out of service. Please, leave a message.

Beep.

Hey Bruce, It’s… It’s Jason. I’m pretty sure you already know, given that it’s you and all, but… yeah. The world is ending and people are doing jack shit about it! Big surprise there. I… you weren’t the first person I was planning on calling. I mean, you didn’t even make the first fucking ten, but… Look, I didn’t want to tell you about this, but Roy’s also doing it and I suppose I should too. Come clean about shit, I mean, tell you stuff. 

I’m not going to apologise for what I did. We both have different ideas of justice and yeah, I killed, but I killed because those fuckers had too many second chances and didn’t fucking take them. I may have gotten a morbid sorta thrill out of it at first, but I don’t fucking like it. I do it ‘cause it’s what I gotta do now. But, whatever I do, whatever your fucking reasons are not to let me come back home, I’m not the only one at fault here.

Dickface always said that taking care of family is one of the most important things, hypocritical as that may be, and I ain’t gonna be at fault for that. I have taken care of my family as well as I fucking could, and the fact that none of you bats have noticed should give you a hint about the problem, huh? The fact that none of you knew? 

…

Joder, no puedo hacer esto. Esto ha sido un error.

…

I have a husband. I have a daughter too, and they are the best fucking thing to happen to me, possibly in my whole life. I feel the luckiest man to have them, and I honestly don’t fucking get how you could fuck all of us up this badly if this is what having a child feels like. The reason I never told any of you (except for Alfred. You can’t hide secrets from Alfred) is because… well… they’re my family. You would judge and think they’re not enough, or that I’m not enough and drive us apart somehow, even if you don’t mean to.

And that’s without mentioning any bat business.

I- Roy is asking me not to be too mean to you. I guess he’s right, but he can’t really have a full conversation with Ollie without it ending in a screaming match, so who’s winning here?

Okay, he’s telling me now that he can, thank you very much, but Oliver’s a fucking prick so he won’t even try to. And he’s also telling me that daddy issues aren’t a competition, Jaybird. Que se joda.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that… yeah, well, the world is ending and there is nothing Roy or I could do about it. I mean, is there anything anyone can do? Arrows and guns? How the fuck would we be useful? 

I know that if you had actually answered the call, you would be yelling at me about duty and shit; asking me to do the fucking impossible like always. Well, guess fucking what? I am doing my duty to my fucking family because they are the most important to me, and I fucking wonder what-

…

Roy’s telling me to stop fighting with you, and he’s right. It ain’t my business anymore. What you decide to do with your fucking dysfunctional family, leave me out of it. I was just hoping, for their sake… Fuck, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I? But hey, the world is fucking ending, so who cares, right?

I miss my dad, okay? I miss the guy who would take me to museums and watch movies with me and comfort me when I had nightmares. Yeah, he might have kinda sucked at it but at least he was trying and he was there and I thought he might have fucking loved me. Because a parent’s love is meant to be unconditional and maybe the other brats and Dickface miss you as much as… as much as I do. 

You can actually be there for them, make me the guinea pig or whatever.

I wanted… I wanted a home and a family to come back to when the world was crumbling down and mira por dónde, now it is! And… and Roy and Lian and I will stay together as a fucking family until we get pulled under. I called to apologise, but fuck that. I doubt you’re even at home with your kids, so right now I don’t owe jack shit to you because you can’t do the bare fucking minimum to be a father. 

I guess… I guess this is goodbye, then.

Seems fitting that the one chance I get for this you can’t even answer the damn phone.

Goodbye da- Goodbye, Bruce.

____________________________

Unread messages: (1)

From: B stands for Bitch

Come home, Jaylad. The whole family is here. Bring Roy and Lian too, they’ll be safe… Read more

Translations:

Joder, no puedo hacer esto. Esto ha sido un error.→ fuck, I can’t do this. This has been a mistake.

Que se joda→ He can go fuck himself

Mira por dónde→ guess what

[urzfanclub]

ash always gets me just bc she has so much less to go on than k does. like this was her first shipboard posting and she lost her xo AND k in a year and then you show up having seemingly faked your death and working for those fuckers from the evil sidequests in 1. id be upset too

[shadoedseptmbr]

wip Wednesday, A Tale from the Tokyo AU-

"Anyway, I told him "if there are any monster fuckers among us, it's my guy, Kaidan..." "You have gotto stop telling people that, you ass. I'm gonna get a repu..." "Two words for ya, Kaid." In the background, Kaidan could hear the Euripefes' status alerts start to ring out. "Vorcha gun moll- gotta go, babe. Love ya." The call cut out before Kaidan could respond. "Uh..." He looked up towards the cabin door right into the bright eyes of the XO. "Trouble at home?" what "oh...No. No, ma'am. Chet's my boot buddy, y'know?" "Ah, gotcha- knows everything about you your mother doesn't?" She shot him a grin and it gave him a modicum of hope that all she'd heard was the sign off. "Exactly." "Staff is in five, I figured I'd give you a heads-up." She swung out of the door, but held the lift for him as he tucked his 'pad away into his desk and followed. The gears cranked up before she asked, innocently, "So, do I want to know what a 'gun moll' is?" "Oh, god, I hope not."

[velkyr]

I'm in the google docs trenches today. forcing myself to leave comments and move on whenever I get stuck on a sentence. there's like 10 of these fuckers. thots n prayers xo

[screampied]

Omg I just read ghostface fic, I’m not nanami or geto girlie, but I’m ghostface fucker at heart 💔 Whooo was that bitch in the end 😭😭 Is it gojo’s annoying ass?? I bet it’s him or toji omg 👺 or both again? 🤭🤭

That phone sex part tho >>> 😮‍💨 And yeahhh, not trynna fuck neither nanami or geto, but even I felt something while reading how nice and sweet they were…. Maybe I need them, I fear🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

AAAA THANK YOU GORGEOUS FOR READING

so real i love ghostface likeeeee i can make a whole essay ab the lore 💔💔💔 UGHHSJSD. omg you guessed it but i’m not saying who yet 🙊

rightttttt i love phone sex it was my favvv part lwk. AWWW i’m glad even tho ur not a girlie for them you still enjoyed !!!! tysm ⭐️🙂‍↕️ kissy xo

[xo8ball]

this was the motherfucking ME show. WAMS AND XO???????? FUCKERS. MOTHERFUCKEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR

[cremonamone]

Welcome to my lair!

I’m a monster lover who loves love so my work here will be entirely Monster Fucker style romance and smut. I’m working on a novel now, but here I’ll post the shorter stuff.

I’m a queer, fat, white, cis-woman. I’m happy to write outside of my own experiences, but this is the perspective these stories will be coming from. If you want me to write something else, I’m happy to oblige with a little hand-holding and some sensitivity reading. Always let me know if I cross a boundary or do something upsetting, so I can reassess my writing and keep this a safe environment.

I will post trigger warnings and maturity ratings on each story.

What I will not write:

Scat, paedophilia, Incest/stepcest, age regression, race play, non-consensual sexual situations, knotting

MINORS: This is not the place for you. Please don’t interact with my posts/stories. If you’re reading this, go find one of the other millions of accounts that I’m sure cater to your interests.

Once I get a handful of stories posted, I’ll offer commissions to anyone who is interested (should anyone be interested).

Thanks for reading! I hope my stories make you feel something.

Cute butt.

XO, MONA

Story Masterlist

Commission Info - Coming Soon!

Requests Open! Shoot me a pairing/perspective/and prompt and I'll write something for you

[curiositydooropened]

WIP Wednesday - Teaser - One Step Back (A Working Through It sequel)

Synopsis: After your coworker, Eddie Munson, melted your cold little heart, you continue to process through emotions of love and loss.

A/N: Again with the angst. This one is definitely more upbeat than Working Through It, but I'm going to be honest and it gets a bit darker. But Eddie's there to help you through it, promise! xo

---

“She loves me.” Eddie Munson worked up to a loud sneeze, black clothes coated in grey fur, which went airborne, gust flying from his mouth. Muffins, previously perched on his lap, stood and stretched, unimpressed by the gusto of his sneeze, and leapt from him to round a corner and disappear. 

“Uh huh.” You stirred the remnants of your ice cream into a milkshake concoction at the bottom of your bowl. “Need a Benadryl?” 

“I’m fine if I don’t touch my face,” he explained, rubbing his eyes. Fucking A. He let out another chair-rattling sneeze. Muffins mewled in protest somewhere in the darkness, and Eddie flashed you a Cheshire grin, eyes red-rimmed and nose runny. “See? She loves me.” 

“We tolerate you,” you explained, holding out your bowl and unwanted concoction for him to finish. 

He leaned across the small space to take your bowl, and frowned when the contents disappointed him. “No more cherry?” He stirred at the milkshake and spooned some into his mouth, seemingly satisfied enough with the results to finish what remained. 

“There hasn’t been a cherry for a long time,” you chuckled at your own inappropriate joke and relished in the way Eddie’s big, brown eyes widened back at you. He nearly sputtered his ice cream back into the bowl. You stood from your chair with a smirk and flicked on the lights to your kitchen, flooding your apartment in florescent light. 

Eddie followed, cramping your space with all of him, broad shoulders, lumbered movement, the cedar of his shampoo. He dumped his bowl in the sink and began to rinse it. That, you were thankful for. You made to pull down two glasses for water, and he obliged to fill them, waiting for you to be half-a-gulp in before he asked, “Who have you slept with?” Fucker.

The two of you had been enjoying this dance for weeks now: flirtatious bickering, innuendo over spilled bleach, intimate moments of little truths. He’d ask a question, and you’d share and flip it back on him, learning little tidbits about one another at a pace that felt healthy, exciting even. 

You hoisted yourself onto the countertop, barely enough room for your ass beside the microwave, and your heels banged against the cabinets below, eliciting another grumpy meow from the depth of the apartment. “Like… names?” 

“Sure,” Eddie shrugged, sidling himself beside you like it didn’t electrocute you to feel his weight against your thigh.

You did this a lot too, you noticed, talked about your past. Eddie Munson had eased you into memories you thought you’d rather forget. You found yourself giving up a story about your brother the other day, without even a tremble in your voice. You thought past that now, past your brother and that 4th of July, to a time when you were far too young to comprehend what you were doing. You tapped your fingernails to the glass in your hands. 

“Well, first was Tad Matthews,” you winced at the memory, drunken kisses and muttered ‘I love you’s, somewhere in the depth of Tommy Hagan’s house during a party. Your tits hadn’t even amassed to full-sized yet. Tad’s hadn’t either. “Then Sam Bailey,” a rendezvous at Lovers Lake, a summer fling, again a drunken night at a party, the back of a beater pick-up. “Then Billy Hargrove,” graduation night, stretched across the leather of his Camaro, he smelled like chlorine under all that cologne.

Eddie whistled, and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t exactly proud of your list, but at least you’d thought you and Tad were in love. You were, sort of, as in love as kids could be. 

“And when you say Tad was your first, you mean…” Eddie rolled his hands over one another for you elaborate. 

“We had sex, Munson,” you challenged him with your gaze, leaning your arm against him. You smell his breath, chocolate and vanilla as it warmed your face. 

“Anyone else? Or just those three?” He smiled sweetly back, but his eyes lingered on your lips, down the front of your tank top.

Heat licked up your chest, anxiety rattling in your sternum, and you took another strong gulp of water, staring straight ahead at the clock of your oven. It was just past two AM. Eddie should have been home hours ago. You wondered how much more information to give him, wondered how far he’d push the cat-and-mouse before leaving you with that toothy grin and a soft smooch to your cheek. If you played, he played. Wasn’t that the deal? And you were burning to know his answers to the same questions. Curiosity did kill the cat. You wondered how the mouse fared.

“Well, unless you count the time Tommy Hagan tried to shove his meaty little fingers into me spring break junior year.” You spewed, a full shudder wracking through you at the memory. God, those were dark times. He was all tongue and freckles. You had wanted to jump Steve Harrington’s bones at that party, the latter boy having just broken up with Nancy Wheeler, but Carol was out of town and Tommy’s bottle rolled to you instead of Tina.

You chugged the remainder of your water and glanced at Eddie for some reprieve from the horrid memory and nearly choked when you saw him scrutinizing his own fingers, hand held flat in front of him to decide whether or not his were meaty or little. And Jesus Christ, they weren’t. They were fucking perfect. You leapt from the counter and set your glass carefully in the sink beside his. “What about you?” 

Eddie blinked back at you, soft smile playing on the corners of his pink lips. “What?” 

“Who have you slept with?” The words fell from your mouth softer than you wanted, and you glided an inch closer to him. 

His eyes were big, beautiful saucers, like a little lost puppy, and he shrugged and pulled your hand into his. “I’ve been actually… saving myself for you…” 

You thought you might throw up. Your entire stomach dropped out of your ass, and you stared back at him. You didn’t realize your mouth had fallen open until Eddie reached a finger up to your chin to close it. You swallowed sheepishly until you heard the snicker fall from his lips.

“Gotcha.” He booped your nose. 

“Fucking A, Munson.” You clutched at your chest with one hand and shoved his shoulder with the other. 

---

This is just a teaser, fic to come later, but feel free to come talk to me about it! If you want to read more from me (including Working Through It), my masterlist is in my bio! xo

[trashmouth-richie]

Hop, you say? The love of my life, you mean. Have you seen the size of his hands? The size of his… whole person. That is a tree I would like to climb. That is a mustache I would like to ride. xo -Amanda

Amanda bestie listen this is a hopper lover safe zone here. we love that big fucker, god i wanna ride that mustache so bad