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[pullhisteeth]

work it out | eddie munson

summary sometimes sex just doesn't work the way we think it should!!! Eddie does a good job of telling you it's okay. [1.5k]

contains vaginismus/difficulty with penetrative sex, r is embarrassed about it, Eddie is lovely (obviously). angsty fluff, comforting, suggestive content.

-

When you tell Eddie to stop, he moulds into something softer, hard edges shimmering, rounded and warm.

"Oh, honey," he coos, rough hands calm on your bare thighs. "Sorry, shit, here-"

You're ignoring the feeling of embarrassment, the way it prickles under your skin, flames of humiliation licking up your neck and behind your ears. There's a funny feeling in your gut, like there's a Catherine wheel in there, painting your insides with hot sparks of shame.

You squirm under him as he leans back to rest on his knees, his bed creaking low noises beneath the both of you. You're also ignoring the look on his face, hiding your eyes behind your clammy hands so you don't have to look at him.

This isn't how it was meant to go. You'd planned this all the way down to this moment, assured yourself that no matter how difficult you found it, he'd be able to do it. You'd never need to tell him; he'd never need to know.

"Here," he breathes. His hand finds yours, pulls them stiffly from your face. You can't hide from him, though you try, turning your head to the side and into the comforter. The tears are hot and heavy, and you're scrunching your face in protest.

"Here," he persists, pulling on your hands. The room's getting smaller, you can feel it; the walls are suddenly very close, the air thick and you feel more vulnerable than ever, laid naked on his bed, crying because your stupid, naïve plan failed. You let him move you, sitting up and looking down at your knees, far too afraid to look him in the eye.

You feel his fingers and the way he shifts, the bedding moulding around you as he does. Your eyes are still closed, willing the tears back in, surrendering yourself to him as he wordlessly moves off the bed. This is it, you think - the moment you suspected might happen if ever you got into this situation. He's going to leave you because you're broken.

Your breathing is dry and twisted, your heartbeat is loud in your ears, and you're staving off that inevitable headache that comes from crying, so you don't hear him moving around the room. In fact, you're sure you hear the door.

"Here you go," he says, soft though it makes you start. You open your eyes, an instinctual response, and find him standing by the bed, towering over you with a shirt on and a mound of fabric in one hand. You reach out and take it, every movement heavier than the last. You're sure, now, that he really is going to ask you to leave.

You unfurl the pile and find your underwear, though it's wrapped up in a shirt that isn't yours. And then you feel the warm pads of his fingers running down your legs, tentative as though you might bite, but you move with him, stretching them out in front of you. He takes your underwear from your hand and pulls them on; the feeling of being coddled like a child inflames the shame, makes you snap. Maybe you can bite.

"Hey," you say sharply, pulling your legs inwards and working the underwear up over your knees yourself. He flinches, only slightly, and backs away, as you pull the shirt down over your head.

The thick air is fizzy with guilt now. You can feel it coming off you like steam, this horrible mix of remorse, embarrassment, fondness. He's still here. He hasn't asked you to leave yet.

He sits beside you, facing you with one leg under himself, clearly unsure what to do with his hands. The silence is sticky, unwelcoming.

"What's going on, hm?" he says, poking the beast.

When you say nothing, breath loud and expression sour, he says, "You're gonna have to talk to me at some point."

This is not an outcome you had ever envisioned. In your head, there were two ways this could go: it would work, he'd never know any different, and you'd be fixed; or it wouldn't work, he'd realise you're not worth his time, and he'd leave.

You never thought there was a third option, one where it doesn't work but he stays anyway.

"I don't work," you manage, voice thick and wet with tears.

His face morphs into something like concern, perhaps confusion.

"What do you mean?" His words are deliberate, staccato, intentional so as not to upset you further.

"I don't work," you repeat, exasperated. "I'm... broken, or something. I thought it wouldn't matter, but-"

"What do you mean, broken?"

You sigh and look at him, at where he's leaning on one hand planted firmly on the bed, fingers gripping his sheets with white knuckles.

"Nothing goes in," you say in a quiet voice, low so you can hide from the truth. "It never has."

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes on the space between you, before he says, "Why did you never tell me?"

There's a bitterness in his tone that you know he's entitled to. This is important, you always knew that, and you've withheld it from him.

"I don't know, I just... It's embarrassing."

"But we could have prepared for this, I could have-" He stops himself and startles, some kind of realisation dawning. He looks up at you. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," you plead. "No, I'm okay, Eds. It hurt, I guess but it's not... It's not that simple."

"I don't-"

"It's not all... physical. Like, it hurts," you explain, using your hands in some crude kind of gesture to make your point. "But it's also in my head. It's like... I think it's going to hurt, like, I convince myself it will, so in my head, it does."

"But if you force it, surely..."

"Yeah," you sigh. "If I force it then yeah, it can hurt."

He's quiet again, contemplating this information. You watch as his expression changes, slight shifts in his brow or the scrunch of his nose.

"What did you think was gonna happen?" he finally asks.

"I, uh," you begin, a little lost for words. This was not in the plan. "I guess I thought I'd be- I dunno, I thought..."

For the first time since you stopped, he reaches out to touch you. His hand finds yours, pulls again, still just as tender as he was earlier. This time you follow him willingly, wriggling over his bed to sit right beside him, thigh-to-thigh.

"I thought it would just work," you say after a deep breath. "I thought I'd be wet enough, or something."

He laughs softly at the way you cringe at the word wet, the way your shoulders shift up and your face scrunches.

"It doesn't work like that," he says, smiling. "Even I know that."

"I know," you breathe, admitting defeat. "I was kidding myself."

"Hey," he says quickly, turning fully to face you, settling his hands on your neck with his thumbs on your jawline. "I didn't mean that, I just meant... I meant you should have said something."

The tears are back, running quick lines down your cheeks, so his thumbs wipe them as they come. You're sniffling, all wet hiccups and snot, but his face never falters. He still looks at you just the same.

"I thought you'd hate me," you whisper, glad for the relief of honesty.

"I could never hate you, sugar."

"But we can't have sex," you whine, sad about both the fact that you're sure you're not normal, and also that you can't give him what you think he deserves.

"Hey," he scolds, his voice still fond but strict. "Sex isn't just dick in vagina, you know that, right?"

"I know, but-"

"And I'm here for good. You're not gettin' rid of me, so we can work on this, yeah?"

You look him in the eye and find the face of a man who really does love you, even if he hasn't said it yet. Even if it has only been a couple of months.

"This is why you'd always stop me?" he asks.

"Yeah," you confirm. "I mean, I also just like you eating me out, but..."

He breathes a laugh, and then your name with some kind of sorrow. "You really should have said, I'd never have even tried, I'm sorry."

"No," you protest. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

You lean into him, let your body fall onto his. He pulls you in with firm arms around your shoulders and lifts you, gently, so you can sit in his lap with your legs either side of his own.

"Thank you," you murmur into his neck, your own arms around his chest, squeezing tighter when you feel him squeeze back.

He kisses the crown of your head and says, "'S'okay. You're fine just the way you are."

You sit like that for a while, slotted into his space just how you like it, knowing that you'll work this out between you, eventually, and that Eddie isn't leaving, not yet. Not ever.

"Also," you hear him say. His voice is a drawl, low and suspicious, so you sit up and look at him. You find that stupid smirk on his face and resist the urge to kiss him.

"What?" you pry.

"This is fine," he says, eyes raking up and down your body, "Because I happen to like eating you out just fine."

"Eddie!"

-

[everchased]

at least it'll be wonderful while it lasts.

(a little post-game downtime discussion, when they have the time and space to talk about these things. also in my canon, scratch gets to stay. :/)

[mischievous-thunder]

Here we have character depth and development at their finest where their love and trust for each other changed their entire perspective. In just a few days of being with each other, their hearts underwent an immense transformation that felt incredible and otherworldly.

What we witnessed was one of the rarest cases where saving the world and saving each other felt synonymous. They didn't expect to find someone to call their own in that mess and yet they ended up finding their soulmates.

[vellichorom]

if the stanley parable is SO good, HOW come there wasn't a stanley parable 2 ????????? ......wait, there was?

HAPPY 4/27 IF YOU CELEBRATE(D) !!!!!!!

featuring @tomiechu's rosemary / bucket / adventure line / & timekeeper!

( tumblr will no doubt SHATTER the quality no matter how much i cut it, so click HERE to see the full HD image! )

[leopardmuffinxo]

he saved the best of him for the heart that understood the worst of him

[beatcroc]

Ever think about joining Team Dark? I hear they have another Eggman created robot that wants him dead.

---

[robinsceramics]

I love that anthro fox in your shop. I check on them every so often to see if theyve found a home. If i had any money/a job, i'd snatch them up in a heartbeat. I hope they find a good, loving home. Idk, that one is special to me.

I love your work. ♡

thank you so much <333 it's so nice to hear you love the anthro fox,, they've been waiting to be sold for a long time���I made them last year and they've been through two online shop sales and a college art sale without being picked up.

Usually when a sculpture takes that long to be sold, I put it away in my Sad Box as un-sellable, but I have a feeling that the fox just needs a little more time to find their way to the right home <3

[hello-universe-lovers]

(Tw: blood under the cut)

"~Every single inch of you is a 10, baby!~

~Something so phenomenal, nobody would believe!~

~I ain't overreacting! You really are a Master-

Piece of art! You're a--

Piece Of Art!~"

((Woooah Smitty you ok there? O_o

I bet he's good! But anyway, once again, I made a piece based on a song cover! This time Piece of Art. If you know the song, then you know EXACTLY why I chose Smitten. And if you don't, listen to it and come back to tell me I'm right/jk

[starlightvld]

"Simon falls to his knees in front of John and rests his hands on the backs of John's calves. His eyes are like nothing John's ever seen; looking into them is like drowning in amber pools of devastation and desperation and something... something broken all at once..."

- Broken Bones and Shattered Hearts, Chapter 3 sneak peek, Art by @kibagib

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 11

I had an absolute blast with this prompt and I've been looking forward to it for a while. I should've gone and bought some wine so I could write being IDed from experience though. Unrealistic writing 😮😮😮

Convenience Store

Each item was set neatly on the conveyor belt.

A roll of duct tape. Kleenex. Air freshener. Trash bags. Zipties. Rubbing alcohol. Superglue. A bottle of merlot. Disinfectant. Sponges. Latex gloves. A wrist brace. Ibuprofen. A hammer. And a bar of chocolate.

A bright beep sounded as the cashier scanned each one.

“Doing some home improvement?” They smiled, placing the superglue onto the other side of the conveyor where one of their customers, the shorter of the two, was busy bagging with their head down. The other stacked the empty shopping basket with the others and pulled out their wallet.

“Definitely an improvement project,” they nodded back with a knowing look. “The whole thing just needs to be demolished and rebuilt at this point.”

“Oh I hear you. A pipe burst in my basement just last month and my spouse had to stop me from tearing the whole thing down then and there.” The cashier scanned the wine and paused. “Your ID please, Mx.?”

They flashed it with a toothy grin. 

“I’m flattered!”

“Just doing my job. Thank you.” They typed something into the system and picked up the next item. A few items later, a snort broke their calm demeanor.

“Hm?”

“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry Mx! Just had a funny thought.” The cashier scanned the hammer. 

“Do share! Lord knows we could use the humor.” They elbowed their partner who smiled meekly and nodded along, balancing with a crutch under their arm. 

“Well, sometimes home improvement supplies look a lot like premeditated murder supplies,” they giggled, and the taller one broke out into raucous laughter. The shorter just shook their head. “Sorry, I meant no offense.”

Realizing they were being addressed, they fixed the sullen expression across their face.

“Ah, none taken! I’ve just had a tough day, what with this shithead and all.” A playful poke to their partner who just laughed again.

“You’re in for it when we get home!” They stuck out their tongue.

The other went back to catch the items they’d missed in that time, slipping the chocolate bar in their pocket. 

“Alright, cash or card?”

“Card please.”

“Your receipt?” 

“Sure, why not.”

“Perfect. Have a good one!” 

“You too!”

The taller one took most of the bags, but the other still managed to carry one. They were almost out the door when a voice shouted out.

“Oh! Excuse me, I think you forgot one of your items!” The cashier held up the hammer, and the couple turned around. Neither came forward to claim it, but with a nudge and a whisper, the shorter allowed the cashier to drop it into their bag. “Can’t do any demolition without that, can you?” 

“Absolutely not, I’m glad we didn’t forget it!” The other didn’t say a word, struggling to lift the bag now, and then the two were gone. 

.

“Interesting what you choose to forget, darling.” A hissing whisper in their ear, so different from the friendly persona they put on in public.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re implying,” they averted their eyes as the trunk of the car opened. Fuck. 

Their captor’s foot landed on their broken ankle and they had to suppress a scream.

“I let you have one good leg for today. Don’t let me regret it.” The bag was taken right out of their hand. “In.”

They crutched up to the passenger door but a clearing of the throat stopped them.

“Childlock doesn’t work on that seat.”

Somehow, climbing into the back was more humiliating after that comment. The door was slammed shut before they could do so themself, and they felt the car shake with how hard the trunk was slammed. A horrible indicator of what was to come.

“I behaved around the store,” they grumbled when the doors locked and the engine turned on. 

“And then you fuckin’ ruined it.” 

“Black and white thinking much…” 

A fist flew against the passenger headrest and they were suddenly grateful to be flinching in the backseat.

“I’m buying a car with blacked out windows. That way, next time, I can throttle you in the backseat.”

[serenbriar]

I've been so conditioned to shut the fuck up about my interests that I still hesitate when posting on this blog that I specifically made to share my interest with people that like the same thing.

[apricote]

this community pisses me off so badddddd sometimes

[suusoh]

Something something Johan slowly warming up to sex because of the implications of entering you something something bodies merging something something the last frontier of physical intimacy even if it doesn’t do much for him physically initially.

Words are not my forte but like before he figures out he enjoys putting his pp in you it might appeal to him just for the connotations of “entering” the person he loves/wants to possess. And then maybe he figures out he enjoys the physical sensation as well.

I imagine this slow progression from your post about the reader getting horny to him losing his shit about getting horny then once he’s done freaking out he still hates the fact that he’s horny. But the unexpected erections allow a very small little idea about fucking you, which he ignores for a while. But then the idea of that makes him consider the act of penetration and the implications, maybe reading/consuming content about it which describes its appeal. And little by little romanticizing it not in the normal way someone would, but in the “i have access to every part of you, every crevice” “this is as close as we can physically get” way idk if you get what i mean but. While the horror of being horny doesn’t go away, he gets a little bit, slowly, tempted to try it.

Looking at it not through the lens of pleasure, but his weird little tendency to blur the lines between himself and the people he loves which he (obviously) already does in terms of identity, but wow with you (and the power of his new dick-hardening ability haha kill me) he can do it physically. It’s not the same as the “we’re literally the same person” thing but there’s smth there idkkk i can’t describe my thoughts well. Anyway that way he can justify consider the act without admitting the extent of his humanity or stuff.

uh-huh! Once he gets over his somewhat aversion to it, and once he's accepted his attraction with you mentally, emotionally, sexually, and finally— physical manifestations of those attractions (as much as he loathes the fact that he's experiencing it) he'd still be interested, with feeling this for the first time with you. I think after a loooooooooooooonnnggg long long long while of finally getting over his view, he'd just let his sexual frustration boil over and finally go to you and be like "please help me with this condition of mine". (said condition just being his pp going hard, but johan treats it like it's some disease lmao).

I think a part of him is like still reeling and hating himself for letting himself get this like.... low?? I don't want to say low but like, it's like definitely a fall from grace from his perfect, non-human, "untouchable being" state.

But another part is overwhelmed and overheating and melting in the inside from just how... how good this feels. It feels so good, too good. it makes him feel... real again for some reason. Like everything around him, your body, the air, the room, the whole world is suddenly so tangible, and it's like he's seeing how beautiful you are to him all over again, and shit he should be thankful— wait why is he feeling thankful? whatever, he is thankful that he's here with you and you're here with him and he's doing this human experience with you, and holy shit holy shit holy shitshit shit shit is it supposed to feel this good? God.... if this is what being human feels like, he doesn't think he could ever return to being a nameless monster again.

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

Huh! Apparently if you visit the burning inn and agreed to save the duke, but haven't recruited Wyll yet, he will have an exclaimation point above his head in the grove and talk to you about it as if he joined you already. Revealing that he's the dukes son. But we don't even know Wyll's name yet at this point. AND he doesn't join the party. He just carries on teaching the tiefling children. Such a weird bug.

[most-fuck-able-ff14]

MOST FUCKABLE FF14 MAN ROUND 2

[vancalox]

im a eurydice = solas truther btw and ill die for my beliefs

be so serious........ and lavellan as orpheus......