somnas-writes · 1 year ago
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Laurence listens to Katy Perry
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melodyanqel · 2 months ago
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Far Away | cj
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summary: times have been rough for jongho due to being long-distance from his precious family. so, he receives a surprise.
pairing: idol!husband!father!jongho x non-idol!wife!mother!reader
genre/tags: fluff, idol au, established relationship, married couple, family reunion, aniteez cameo
wc: 1k+ words
a/n: i enjoyed writing this fluff and i hope you luvs enjoy reading it (>⩊<)
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Coachella ATEEZ.
The title is unreal to the members, the fans, and everyone else in the world. It’s another mega achievement in the group’s career, making it a golden moment in K-pop history. After months, days, hours, and seconds of their lives, the day has come, ready to bring a show. Most importantly, two secret guests are surprising someone. He doesn’t know that his wife and little girl are traveling out of the country to see him. 
The mother and daughter have made it to the airport. 
“Are you ready to go meet appa, darling?” You asked your beloved angel. She has her small hand holding yours. Choi Juhee, also known as ATEEZ’s princess and ATINY’s baby. A high-spirited two-year-old with the sweetest soul in the world. Juhee can make any stern, cold person melt on the spot because her cuteness is too precious. She has a strong resemblance to her father and it’s a bit uncanny. 
Jongho’s pretty boba eyes, round face, defined nose, and smile. 
Even her uncles believe Juhee is a ”mini Jongho.” 
“Appa? Where?” The baby asked her mother, looking around the area. You laughed softly, “Not here, but we are seeing him.” You tried to have Juhee comprehend that she’ll be with her father soon. Your daughter is still learning to speak and remembering people and places around her. She knows her uncles because she sees them every day. 
While waiting for the plane, you and Juhee sit by the entrance. Your little girl is playing with her JJONGbear plush, while you read the messages from the members, excluding Jongho, on a private group chat.
Joongie: Are you boarding yet? 
You: We haven’t yet 
Wooyo: Jongho has been looking at pictures of you and Juhee throughout the trip
You: Aww. Do you all miss us as well?
Yuyu: Of course!
Sannie: You two make our days better!
Minki: It gets boring without you two
Hwa: Y/N, does Juhee know she is seeing her appa?
You: She does and tried looking for him at the airport lol
Yeo: How cute! I’m excited to carry her and hug you
Reading the adorable and heartwarming messages makes you less anxious because you miss your husband. Jongho’s music career has been evolving as the years go by and the fame did impact his life. He had less time with his family and more about making hits to amaze people. However, you knew what to expect when marrying a celebrity. It’s not something you could control because you adore his hard work and compassion. Despite the idol image, he is still your Jongho. 
It was also Juhee’s first time on a plane. She stares through the window and watches the peach sky with wispy clouds glow on her face. “Omma, looks like ANITEEZ.” Juhee directs you with her tiny finger at the window. You immediately understood what she meant because she is obsessed with her ANITEEZ friends. “Oh, wow! It does look like the sky where they sailed their ship.” You looked at your beautiful child with fondness. 
Approximately eleven hours later, the mother and daughter landed in California. When existing at the terminal, you notice the group’s manager is waiting for you both. You greeted and thanked them because they knew you’d be coming and wanted to help out for Seonghwa’s surprise. 
The gorgeous city is lit up during the dark hours. It creates a magical ambiance that can’t be forgotten. 
As a new day begins, you and Seungah are getting ready to meet up with the guys. You also did your best not to let your husband know you were in the same hotel as him. 
“Omo! You’re so pretty! Are you an angel from heaven?!”
You are dressing up Juhee in a pretty pink dress with her hair in a ponytail with a glittery silver bow. It has become warmer, these days, so it is best to wear lightweight clothing. Juhee just smiles, revealing her growing teeth. Somewhere in the future, she’ll have a lot of people chasing for her. It once occurred to you that Juhee would be a musician like Jongho. But overall, you will support whatever decision she makes that brings her joy. 
“Alright. Let’s see appa and the uncles at the park. Don’t forget baby, we are surprising appa.” You and Juhee are finished getting ready. The outfits are stylish, the makeup is on point, and the hair is nicely done. You also put her JJONGbear in a small backpack. 
Upon sneaking up on Jongho, you and Juhee decide to surprise him from behind. 
The maknae and his hyungs are sitting under the tree having a picnic in a gorgeous park. Hongjoong is the first to see you and Juhee approaching so quietly. The members except for Jongho see them coming in their direction. They remained calm and quiet as possible. 
“While I was practicing, I tried to hold the flag properly during “The Real” performance but the wind–”
“Appa!”
Jongho felt his heart almost jump out of his chest when small arms wrapped around his neck. His eyes widened in shock, as soon as he saw his daughter’s gorgeous face. “Hi, darling.” You nonchalantly greeted your husband with a wave. 
At once, his hyungs burst out laughing and cheered ecstatically. Jongho comes back to earth and brings his baby into his arms. Juhee’s infectious laughter filled the air. Jongho presses a kiss onto her mochi cheek. You then join your little family hug. You placed a kiss on Jongho’s temple. 
“What is all this?!” Jongho is still confused. 
You couldn’t stop smiling at your adorable husband. “A surprise! We all set it up for you because we wanted to cheer you up.” You explained briefly. Jongho’s heart melted. You traveled hours long just to see him. 
He brings a kiss on the lips and the members squealed at the sudden bold maknae. Juhee didn’t notice her parents were sharing a sweet affection because she was too focused on the candy. Jongho slips away his lips from yours to say, “Thank you so much, my love.” 
You chuckled blithely. “You’re very welcome, my Haribo.” You called him by his nickname. You’ll never stop using it since you first fell for Jongho. 
Soon enough, the Choi Bear family and ATEEZ have a lovely picnic together. Not to mention, the members fought over Juhee to have her sit with one of them. 
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celaenaeiln · 9 months ago
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I think I really need to explain what it’s like having Jason be mad at Dick about not reaching out or whatever according to fanon because this is really bothering me.
So in Canon, Dick comes over and gives Jason his number and tells him to call whenever possible if he needs or wants anything. And Jason says okay. After that they don’t meet often except for a few instances and that’s that.
But for some reason this fact has been used a symbol of Dick being a bad brother??
Let me put this into perspective here: imagine having your older sibling attending Cal Tech in California, studying astrophysics, participating in 7 different clubs, being the leader of all those clubs, maintains his grades and goals, struggling with mental health, dealing with relationships, and then AS AN OUTSIDER getting mad at him for not dropping by to say hi to his younger sibling in New Jersey in the middle of the semester. Only in Dick’s case, he built the university, invited the students and colleagues, and ran the place both as the owner, administrator, and student. When people are struggling with one job he’s dealing with three.
Like actually how are you gonna pin any blame on him realistically. When reading the comics he’s so busy with the titans that you as the reader forget Bruce even exists so how are you gonna be mad at him for not showing up with toys for a brother you and he both know is safe and well taken care of. How?
“He could’ve called.”
WELL SO COULD JASON. I believe Dick’s words were “call me.” So how are you going to sit there saying that Dick should’ve been a better brother when it is it impossible for anyone to do better than he did.
Let’s continue with the previous analogy. The younger sibling ends up calling once but the older brother is in fucking Russia! But unfortunately the younger brother called the university, not the direct line which the older brother wouldn’t have been able to pick up anyway because depending on the country +1 (US) numbers don’t work on international calls! So how do you expect Dick to any way be held responsible??
Let’s be real here. There’s just no possible, conceivable way to call Dick a bad brother.
Dick has a guilt complex but that doesn’t mean he’s actually guilty of something. It just means he thinks he is because that’s the way he copes with living when others don’t.
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utahimeow · 1 year ago
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to bind a god — satoru gojo
summary — satoru gojo lets you tie him up.
pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader
warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. bondage, femdom, sub!gojo, established relationship (reader and gojo are married), degradation, praise, edging, choking, slight dacryphilia, handjob, oral (f receiving), implied subspace, creampie
word count — 6k
author’s note — this was not supposed to be six thousand words long
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To most, the idea of restraining Satoru Gojo seems inconceivable.
A being so powerful that he’s as close to omnipotent as a human can get. One who can bend reality to his will. Even to touch him, to come close enough to make contact with him– an impossible task.
So how does one restrain Satoru Gojo?
You ask him nicely.
Play with his powder-white hair as he lays in your lap, scratch at his scalp until powder white eyelashes flutter shut and he’s humming, content. Get him right where you want him to be. And then, dangle his undying love for you over his head. It works every time.
“Baby?” you muse.
“Hmm?”
“You know how you love me so much? In sickness and in health? Till death do us part?” It’s not entirely uncommon for you to remind him of the very words you had repeated to one another the day you became forever bound to one another. And before you had made your vows to one another, it was some other twisted way of getting exactly what you wanted. In truth, however, batting your eyelashes at Satoru was usually enough. 
Your husband’s eyes flicker open and he gazes up at you, one thin white eyebrow raised pointedly. He sighs then, even rolling his eyes a little, ever so dramatic. “Yes, my dear wife, you know I'd do anything for you.”
“So then, you’ll let me tie you up and edge you, right?”
He barks out one of his booming, obnoxious laughs. As if you’ve just said the most impossible, unfathomable, unimaginable thing. 
He sits up, still laughing, searching your face for a sign that you’re joking. He doesn’t find it. 
“I’m being serious, Satoru.” 
His cerulean irises, the very ones that hold an ancient power so immense that it seems like a myth, widen. He audibly gulps and his Adam’s apple bobs. Yet amidst his off-put reaction, something else lingers. Something that tells you he just needs a little extra push.
“Come on, I mean… think of all the things I let you do with me, baby,” you reason. Not that Satoru’s particularly into anything obscure. Rather, the intensity of the way he takes you usually leaves you recovering for days– because you love when he does. Naturally, he’ll use toys, or a blindfold, or handcuffs, but never anything as ‘serious’ as bondage. And sure, he assumes the dominant role, but that’s only because you enjoy having him in charge of your pleasure. It’s never any kind of formal dominance or submission, either. No titles, no punishments– outside of being playful, that is. 
The final blow is, in fact, when you bat your eyelashes and pout at him. 
Of course, he agrees. Because you’re you, and he’s him, a man not immune to a little sweet talk from his wife.
And of course, he does point out the elephant in the room – he’s the strongest human being in existence. What’s to stop him from slipping out of the ropes? He could do so without so much as blinking an eye.
“Just pretend, dummy! No teleporting, no breaking or dissolving the ropes into thin air, no nothing,” you tell him. Without a doubt, you assure him that these come with the exception that if Satoru needs to escape, by all means he may escape – an alternative to a safeword. 
Thus, two weeks later, Satoru kneels in the centre of your shared California king bed. He’s bare as the day he was born, his body sculpted like a divine statue, the manifestation of years of sorcery displayed in the way each muscle has been carved to perfection.
A tiny smirk sits on his face as he observes your concentrated state. Your lip is trapped between your teeth while you weave strands of rope together into neat patterns over Satoru’s chest, torso, arms, thighs. His arms are pulled behind his back, bound together by delicate knots. His steady breathing orchestrates your movements, and when you catch his gaze you pause just to admire him for a moment. Your heart swells with warmth, with debilitating affection for him.
Before long, you’ve weaved the rope into perfection. You take a step back from the bed, away from his kneeling form, to drink in your masterpiece. 
The rope slithers over his body, milk-white skin tainted by sanguine red. It’s not tight enough to squeeze, yet his biceps seem to swell between the gaps. The strand that runs down the middle of his chest and underneath leaves his pectorals bulging and you’re filled with the urge to bite and mark him. To claim him as yours. As if he’s not already wrapped up like a present for you. As if he’s not wearing a ring that pledges his soul to yours.
You’re rather impressed with yourself, too. It’s not bad at all for your first time, although technically you’ve spent weeks practising on anything limb-shaped whilst your husband was out of the house. None of it is particularly intricate, yet somehow you think that, had it been any of the more detailed patterns you’d seen on the web, he would not look so breathtaking. 
“Well? Is it everything you imagined?” Satoru quips, pulling you from your trance.
You narrow your eyes, questioning why you presumed that being tied up would ever stop him from running his mouth when even a ball gag would be useless on him. You nod though, humming in affirmation. It’s the last bit of satisfaction he’ll get from you. 
“You look pretty, Satoru,” you say, and it’s genuine, yet there’s a flutter in his belly at the teasing edge in your voice. “It doesn’t hurt anywhere?”
“No, ma’am,” he grins.
“Good. I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him before you prance off to your walk-in closet where two little pieces of lace await you. 
Satoru can’t be the only one all dressed up, after all. 
When you return, you’re in a bustier top, with lace and frills and tiny ribbons, and a matching thong– red, to match the ropes that decorate your husband’s body like ornaments. Satoru’s grinning like a pervert, devouring you with his eyes, his cock twitching and leaking as it hangs between his thighs. 
“Oh, look at you,” he says with a gaze filled with awe. Heat crawls to every corner of your body, but you swallow the urge to melt from his words and maintain your composure. “You got yourself a little outfit?”
You nod, mischief flashing across your face. “Since you were so kind and generous to let me tie you up, I thought I’d treat you a little.”
“Fuck, I’m lucky, heh?”
Tilting your head, you step closer to Satoru once more, his eyes like rhinestones glimmering with far too much arrogance for your liking. He has no idea what you have in mind. Or maybe he does, and he’s naive enough to think it won’t have any effect on him. 
You kneel on the bed in front of him, leaning in until you’re mere millimetres away from his face and your breath is warm on his lips. 
But you don’t kiss him. And when he sways forward, trying to catch your lips with his, you pull away.
“Aw, come on, baby. I can’t even get a kiss?” He’s pouting. Unfortunately for him, it’s a habit of his that you’ve grown resistant to.
“Say please,” you say.
His smile only grows, devilish and knowing. Then, a “please?”
Your hand lands at the base of his neck when you press into him, your lips meeting his softly, tongue dipping into his mouth just barely, just enough to keep him wanting more. The hand that sits on his clavicles begins inching down, sliding over the rope you so carefully placed. 
Feather-light, you brush a single fingertip against the head of Satoru’s dick which now stands upright between his legs. He shivers instantly, ever so sensitive to any touch, but especially sensitive because it’s you.
He did grow up with no choice than to be self-indulgent, after all. To cling to anything remotely good, even if he has to be a little selfish about it. So he clings to pleasure. He clings to your sighs and moans, to the way you wrap around him, to your hips and thighs, to every part of you. It’s made him far too spoiled. 
Your finger traces down his shaft, over the unforgiving veins, along his flushing skin. Your hand wraps around him then, fingertips hardly touching, and he groans into your mouth. 
“Eager?” you taunt. His eyes dart to your lips as you pull away from his face, watching the way they’ve become slick with honey-like spit. 
“You really can’t blame me,” he replies. 
You chuckle, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip and settling onto your knees in the spot next to him.
Satoru’s gaze drops down to the way your first wraps around his cock. Just as quickly, you lift his head back up, fingers under his chin until his eyes meet yours.
“Eyes on me,” you say. Something behind his irises bubbles, clawing at the surface. Still, he’s grinning.
When your hand starts to move, he sucks in a breath. Even if it’s achingly slow and barely enough to cause any stimulation, the relief that lies in being touched by you is enough. 
“You always take such good care of me,” you tell him, batting your eyelashes so sweetly at him. “Let me do the same for you, won’t you?”
He hums, long and drawn out, and your thumb glides over his tender tip. As you smooth over the slit, you shouldn’t be surprised when your fingers become damp with his arousal. 
“Already wet, huh?” 
“Well, you know what you do to me,” Satoru says, with a slight drawl in his words already, cheeks heating.
Maybe that’s part of it, but you also have no doubt that the ropes that frame his arms and torso are starting to coil around his mind too. Promising to take him to a space he’s never been to before.
So soon.
You drag your fist up and down, inch by inch, having no intention of speeding up. Not for a while anyway. He’s much too used to getting anything he wants from you.
He’ll try to pretend he’s patient. That’s fine. You’ll work him until he’s no longer pretending.
You ghost your lips against his jaw, along the column of his neck, nipping at his marble-white skin until there’s a mark or two left behind. Your teeth graze at his earlobe and he shivers. Something in your brain clicks when he does– the thought of him writhing beneath you makes you dizzy. 
You’ll get him there, you assure yourself. The slower the better.
Ever so slightly though, you pick up your pace, pumping him a little quicker now. 
“How’s that feel, Satoru?” you ask, a mix between taunting and the genuine desire to hear his affirmation.
“Feels real good,” he breathes, still grasping onto steadiness, refusing to let his tone waver.
The next time your hand slides up his cock, you squeeze a little harder, like a reward for his surprising lack of sarcasm. His breath hitches slightly when you do, leaving you grinning.
Every pearl of precum that drools from the slit of Satoru’s cock gets smeared along his length by your palm. It doesn’t take long until he’s covered in a layer of slick, aiding the way your hand glides up and down at a speed that’s finally enough to light a fire deep in his abdomen. 
His jaw clenches and he gulps, yet he remains practically silent– much to your disapproval.
“Wanna hear you, baby. Go on,” you coo, catching his gaze as you tighten your fist around him for a split second. It’s not like him to keep his noises to himself when he feels good, anyway.
His mouth drops, and a breathy little whine falls from his lips, and it becomes clear why he needed your encouragement. The noise makes your own clit throb, painfully unstimulated.
“There you are, such a good boy,” you say, stroking your hand faster. 
From then on, Satoru doesn’t resist letting out his whiny noises, mixed with his panting. It’s a complete contrast to his usual grunts, growls, and groans that are always so low, coming from deep in his chest as he takes you exactly how he likes, how he wants, how he needs. Now he’s all breath and high-pitched, sweat building on his temple, helpless as he sits wrapped up in the palm of your hand.
His cock is near-purple and painfully hard as you jerk him off, twisting your hand at his tip with a slick noise. His hips are starting to buck, the hard ridges of his abdomen starting to ripple. The ropes stretch, like they’re breathing, and then they come to life.
“Tell me when you’re close, Satoru,” you say, stern compared to how sweet you’ve been up until now. When you look at his face, his eyes are half-lidded and clouded over, his eyebrows pulled together. Your hand slows to a near halt and he whines pitifully. “Look at me.”
It takes him a second, but he blinks and then his glazed irises meet yours. 
“You’ll tell me when you’re close, won’t you?”
“Y-yes,” he moans, hips rutting slightly into your fist, begging for friction once more. “Please.”
You smile, satisfied. He’s been so obedient thus far, you have no reason to not resume the cruel jerking of your hand– with even more haste this time.
This time, you pump your hand with determination, lip caught between your teeth as you watch him eagerly, soaking up his reactions. As Satoru starts to near his edge his head falls back, his name on your lips as his veins start to burn with a familiar sensation.
“Close,” he breathes. “I’m close.”
And everything he’s built up comes tumbling down the second you take your hand off of him. 
“No, please,” he cries, voice cracking, him squirming in his restraints. It’s pathetic. It’s adorable. “You can’t do this to me, baby.”
You giggle, watching his eyes brim with tears. “I just did.”
“I’d never do this to you,” he says, more desperate than you’ve ever heard him. 
“Because you can’t control yourself, baby. Maybe now you’ll learn,” you tell him, smiling so sweetly. Your fingertip brushes against his raging, red cock and he flinches, near-shrieking. “Deal?” 
“Fine- please, just touch me again, fuck,” he begs, his voice sending bolts of pleasure to your core and you’re suddenly aware of the slick pooling in your own panties. 
Your hand wraps around his dick again and falls back into a steady rhythm, dragging up and down the hard length in a way that has Satoru whining again instantly. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpers over and over.
Within mere minutes, he’s throbbing into your hand once more, hardly muttering the word “close” before you take your hand off him.
“Ple-ease,” he mewls. “Need to cum, please let me cum.”
You have Satoru Gojo under your thumb. There’s no doubt about it.
Your chest aches with sympathy for him, truly. You are doing this for purely selfish reasons, after all, to soothe a sadistic, power-hungry instinct inside you. He’s done nothing wrong. But God, the way your brain buzzes from being able to get him like this in no time at all.
“Just hold out a little longer for me, Satoru, yeah? I promise it’ll feel so good,” you tell him. Your original plan was to see how long you could keep working him up for, but your pussy is starting to become restless. Between your legs, a pulse begs to be relieved. 
He replies with a moan and a twitch of his hips up into your hand that’s tugging at his cock again. You didn’t think it possible for it to be this red, this swollen and hard, veins bulging, his tip leaking so much precum that it almost looks like he already came. You drool a little, shivering at the thought of it stretching you out. 
The next time Satoru warns you of his impending orgasm so you can take your hand off of his cock is much sooner than the last few times. His entire body squirms, his arm muscles tensing against his restraints, and he sobs, tears slipping down his blood flushed cheeks.
From his swollen lips comes a stream of pleas and whimpers, ones that make you want to give him the world. You’re not sure how much of this you can take, let alone him. 
“It hurts,” he whispers. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. 
“It hurts? You can safeword if you need,” you remind him, scanning his eyes for any signs of panic, but you’re only met with a blissed out haze. 
“No,” he says, shaking his head with determination. “I’m the strongest.”
Despite his dazed state, he manages to give a stupid, insufferable smirk like he just told the greatest punchline in history. 
“And here you are, crying like a little bitch because I won’t let you cum.”
You thrive off of the cry he lets out when you squeeze his cock, hard. In the blink of an eye he returns to whining pathetically and begging for release.
“Please… please,” he sniffles, tossing his head back in frustration. 
Frankly, you’re amazed that he hasn’t teleported out of the ropes. You doubt he can truly keep up the act– that the ropes are really binding, that he can’t simply tear them apart without so much as lifting a finger– so why hasn’t he?
For a moment you peer up at him, at the desperate sight of him wriggling and squirming, at the straining of muscles that are packed with immeasurable strength, and a chill runs down your spine. 
He thinks he’s truly restrained.
It shouldn’t surprise you that the second he’s put under a shred of control, he gives in instantly. The moment he can surrender his power he’s forced to carry, he does it without hesitation. There is no one else he would ever be so vulnerable for, but you. No one else whose hands he would feel so safe and secure in. No one else he would ever rip open his chest and show his heart to.
The least you can do is put him out of misery, for now.
“What do you want?” you ask, dripping with honey, dragging your hand up and down, up and down. Every movement gives a shlick, shlick, shlick from the way his cock weeps.
“Wanna cum,” he whines, arms twitching behind his back, desperate for some kind of leverage. “Please, I-I need to cum.”
And so you succumb to his pleas. Finally, you give him exactly what he wants, working your hand over him so fast that his whimpers turn into a stream of incoherent cries. He twitches and throbs in your palm, until at last, with a choked sob, he cums.
Streaks of warm, white seed splatter over Satoru’s chest and abdomen, his entire body wrought with tremors as pleasure sinks into every muscle and every fibre that he’s made up of.
“Good boy, there you go,” you murmur, keeping your slicked up hand stroking him at a gentle pace to get him through his climax. “Did so well.”
His entire body trembles as he breathes through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Your clean hand soothes over his hard thigh, over his shoulder, squeezing softly as you crane your head to slot your mouth against his. He barely has the energy to kiss you back, yet still his tongue moves against yours like a natural instinct, albeit weakly. 
You pull away, hovering a mere inch away from his face and cradling his cheek with your hand. “Doing okay?”
A dopey smile makes his features light up and any blooming anxiousness within you gets put to rest. “Yeah. It felt so good.”
In turn, your own lips curl into a smile of satisfaction. Then the heat pooling between your legs makes itself known once more, and your brain sparks with an idea. “Good. You think you can help me out now?”
Satoru nods, ever eager, drool forming at the corner of his lips. It’s adorable how whipped he is. 
Your fingers hook into the knot in the centre of Satoru’s chest, guiding him to turn so that he faces the headboard. You crawl up a little, splaying yourself out against the pillows, spreading your legs with your bottom lip between your teeth and the confidence of the entire world.
Satoru watches you with galaxies in his eyes as you push your little thong down your legs and toss it to the floor. His tongue nearly lolls out of his mouth when he finds the glimmering slick that dribbles out of your hole. When you bring two of your fingers down and drag your fingertips through your folds, you think he might start panting like a dog. 
You make a show of dipping your fingers into your soaked cunt, rolling your eyes back and arching a little as you moan, sweet and soft.
“Baby, please,” Satoru croaks out, wriggling in his ropes a little. 
“What, Satoru?” you tease, the sound of his begging sending heat straight to the growing bubble of pleasure in your gut.
“Can I have a taste?”
You grin devilishly as you pull your fingers from your dripping hole. Rising to your knees, your arm snakes behind his head, your hand settling on the back of his neck. The other hand, with your fingers covered in your nectar, hovers by his puffy lips. 
“Open for me,” you say, voice low and, without meaning it to be, sultry. 
Satoru’s mouth drops without a shred of hesitation. Your fingers sit on his tongue, your eyes locked with his as you say the word, “close.” 
He does, and then he’s drinking in the flavour, suckling on your fingers as though they’re an oasis and he’s been in the desert for his entire life. 
How you wish you could savour the image of his eyes as you push your fingers further into his mouth. White lashes flutter and tears well up, threatening to spill over his lash line, your grip on the back of his neck tightening as your fingers sink deeper into his mouth. When they reach the back of his throat, he mewls softly, swallowing around your digits.
“Such a good boy,” you say. Saliva webs cling to your fingertips as you withdraw them from Satoru’s lips slowly. “Now why don’t you eat my pussy like the good boy you are?”
“Please, please, let me,” he practically garbles, drooling and slobbering at just the prospect. 
You lay back, opening your legs so invitingly for him once again that he nearly lurches forward this time–that’s his place, after all, his home. Between your thighs. 
As you grasp the centre knot once more, Satoru allows himself to fall forward, diving straight into your cunt. 
He makes no effort to tease, or take his time. He’s hungry, and having his hands bound behind his back makes his face grow hot with pure frustration. He needs to feel your soft, velvety walls clench around his fingers. Craves it, in fact. 
Then his tongue runs up and down your folds, lapping at the sweetness that spills from you, and his mind floods with the single desire to make you cum with his mouth. 
Both of your hands fly to his head, weaving into the roots of his snow-white hair as moans start to fall from your lips. Your thighs tighten around his head when he latches onto your clit, swollen from neglect and aching to be touched. 
It only takes a few seconds before your belly starts to fill with a pulsing warmth that has you keening for more. As Satoru slurps at your cunt, your hips rut against his face in tandem. You’re selfish, shamelessly so, allowing yourself to indulge as Satoru always does with you. Something gleams in his eyes when you catch them with yours– bliss, thrill. His head is swimming, pure liquid, as the thought of you using him purely for your own selfish pleasure sinks in and makes his dick grow hard all over again. 
Over the lewd, wet noises of Satoru’s tongue flicking and suckling at your clit, your sweet, airy moans harmonise with his own grunted ones, muffled slightly by your pussy, but they’re still so loud. His voice vibrates against your core, and it sends pangs of bliss shooting straight to your gut. 
The sight of his huge, hulking body, bound and bent over, is breathtaking. Thick thighs keep his body from collapsing to the bed. If it were you, your abdomen would have long given out. Yet he stays upright, his head between your legs, his mouth never once faltering in the way it ravages your pussy. 
“Satoru- fuck,” you whimper, pressing your hips up into his mouth, your greed fuelled by the way he moans in reply and licks at you without any mercy. 
Spit and arousal pools on the sheets beneath your ass. Satoru comes up for air for half of a second, his cheeks and chin shining with your saccharine essence. The pure mess–the carnage of it all makes your head spin. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, and in the blink of an eye he’s flattening his tongue against your clit once more. 
Your head sinks further into the pillow beneath you as you claw at his scalp and press his face closer into you. He’s ravaging you now, drunk on the sight of you being torn away from sanity as you near your climax.
Then, with nothing but your whimpered warning, that pulsing warmth in your belly erupts, washing over your entire body in a violent wave. Your muscles tighten, your mind numb from the overwhelming bliss, and Satoru wishes he could devour you whole. 
He waits until you tap at his shoulder to sit back on his shins with a smirk tugging at his lips and slick dripping down his jaw. Your legs tremble as you rise to your knees and shuffle closer to him, heartbeat still thudding in your ears as you crane your neck up to his face. Your lips are so messy against his, yet your kiss is so tender and full of affection when you wrap your arms around his neck. 
Between your legs, Satoru’s erection grazes against your thighs. You giggle into his mouth, and there’s a smack when you pull your lips from his. 
“So needy, aren’t you, Satoru? You like eating pussy that much?” you tease, reaching between him and you to stroke at his length. He gasps when your hand wraps around him, twitching into your palm.
“You know I do, baby, love your pussy so much,” he says, breathy and rasped. His jaw strains when you scratch at his undercut and bite your lip, your eyes no doubt glinting with mischief. 
“Then get on your back and I’ll let you fuck it,” you tell him. 
He throws himself to the mattress comically fast, inching up the bed, laying there, all wrapped up and patient for you. 
You giggle as you throw one of your legs over his waist and straddle him, bringing your hands down to his chest. Slowly, your palms run over each ridge and knot once more. Satoru revels in the brush of your flesh over his, in between rows of rope where his caged skin blushes. It glitters, too, with a sheen of sweat that matches yours. 
“You look beautiful like this,” you tell him, reaching up to stroke your thumb over his warm cheek, looking straight into the oceans of his irises as you say the words. 
His features turn soft, flashing with so much affection that it makes your heart soar. 
Taking his cock in your hand, you love the way he shivers as you drag the head through your dripping wet folds. Then, unable to hold out even a second longer, you line him up with your entrance and let him plunge inside of you. Both of you hiss in tandem, you sinking down on him, taking every last inch all at once. 
Satoru is already whimpering as you seat yourself on him, your hips flush to his. Your eyes roll back into your head, the delicious stretch of his cock making your brain turn fuzzy. 
The first bounce of your hips has him nearly crying. As though he’s been punched in the gut, Satoru gasps at the way you squeeze around his achingly hard, overstimulated cock. He feels every crevice of your walls, how the soft warmth sucks him in so sweetly that the ceiling above him starts spinning even though barely a minute has passed.
“Satoru,” you giggle, not caring that you fail to hide the breathlessness in your own voice from the sensation of being speared on his fat cock. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were a virgin.”
His dick twitches and his eyes grow round, his mouth dropping as you start to move in a steady rhythm. “I-it’s too good, I- fuck.”
“It’s too good?” you tease, dropping down on him a little harder now. Your hands wander along the patterns of rope absentmindedly, toying with him. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already.”
“‘m not, I promise,” he whimpers, sucking in a trembled breath, his gaze fixing on your face. 
“Good boy,” you say. Then, you abandon all mercy. 
Fucking yourself back onto him, you let a chorus of shameless moans spill from your lips, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock rub against your walls. Satoru is even noisier, struggling to contain his high-pitched whines and whimpered moans as he struggles against his restraints. 
Your fingers curl around a knot on Satoru’s abdomen for balance. The way you move your hips is relentless, the skin of your ass smacking against his thighs, wet and sticky with sweat and arousal. Utterly lewd.
Satoru’s cock pounds against your sweet spot effortlessly each time you bounce in his lap. Brushes against your cervix when you lean forward just a little. It makes your eyes roll, the way he’s carved himself out inside you after all these years, the way your cunt moulds itself around him and clings to him so perfectly.
He looks so sweet beneath you. Taking everything you give him. His jaw is slack, his hair a tousled mess. His eyes are blown out, with nothing but dazed bliss behind them. His skin– hot pink and dewy. You’ve never seen him like this. So dishevelled. So ruined. And in the deepest corners of your brain, something has been altered. Something that makes you yearn for more of him just like this. 
It’s almost subconscious the way your hand traces up Satoru’s hard abdomen and sits on his neck. He shivers at the touch, his gaze flickering with something dark, before your fingers start to press softly into the sides of his neck. Ever so slowly, his moans turn to strained breaths. For a fleeting moment, the corners of his lips even quirk upwards.
What a slut.
You bend forward, your flesh warm against his ropes, your clothed tits pressed to his chest. Your lips slot against his, sloppy, your love spilling into him as you kiss him hard. Inside you, he throbs, just as a pulsing heat bubbles inside you from the constant friction of his cock brushing your sensitive spot. 
You pull away from his face, gazing into his irises to watch him slowly unravel. To let him watch the way you’re slowly starting to fall apart, too. You’re growing closer to your edge by the minute, refusing to falter your rocking hips despite how your thighs are trembling and starting to ache. Despite how pinches of pleasure run through your veins and make your head heavy.
When you gently loosen your fingers around Satoru’s throat, his chest blooms up against you as he gulps down the oxygen you’ve deprived him of.
“My little slut,” you whisper into his lips, pressing a quick kiss to them before straightening your back and pushing yourself upright. Suddenly, the urge to make both him and yourself cum is detrimental. 
One of your hands grips your tit over your bustier, squeezing at your own mound until your head falls back and you sigh. Your other hand travels between your legs, and you jump when your fingers find your swollen, sensitive bud. Still, the bliss that shoots straight to your core as you start to rub rapid circles into it has you moaning– loud.
From the sight alone, Satoru’s hips start to buck wildly up into you. His moans become never-ending, his cock jumping, balls tightening like they’re ready to be drained. 
“Fucking- gonna cum, can I? Please?” he huffs, squirming helplessly. You’re just impressed he still remembered to ask for your permission.
“Yes, Satoru, cum for me. Fill me up,” you tell him, breathless as you ride him with determination, clenching around him like you’re going to milk him– and you are milking him.
Satoru’s cumming, his back arching into the air as he sobs out, almost like he’s in pain. Your walls turn white, streaked with seed as his cock pumps you full. 
Still your hand works your clit relentlessly, your other hand flying to Satoru’s abdomen to steady yourself because before long your own orgasm hurtles towards you. Deep in your gut, the bubbling heat finally boils over, sending searing pleasure to your very fingertips. Satoru moans in unison with you as stars dance in your vision and your pussy tightens around him like a grip. 
A moment later, once you’ve come back down from your high, Satoru’s voice comes out in a rasp. “Let me see it.”
You lean backwards, bracing yourself on his thighs so you can lift yourself up off of him, letting his cock slip out and watching his sticky cum follow. It drools out of your hole so obscenely that you almost want to hide your face, until you remember that it’s your husband who’s staring at you. 
When the sheets are stained with every last drop that Satoru had emptied inside you, you collapse forward, heaving as you collect your breath. All at once, your aching thighs, your fatigued muscles, and your fuzzy head hit you like a punch to the face. The side of your face is pressed to Satoru’s plump chest, where his heart pounds against his ribcage so hard that you hear the way it races. 
“Did so good, baby,” you hum. Sleep calls you, wrapping its tendrils around you, but you fight it off in favour of clambering off of his lap. Something in your mind urges you to be gentle with him, like he’s glass– even though he’s anything but. Still– the blissed out, empty look in his eyes almost makes you sob. “Doing okay?”
“Yeah,” he replies, chuckling softly like he knows it’s exactly what you need to hear. 
“Can I undo the rope?” you offer, running a hand through his mussed up hair.
“No need,” is all he says. He sits up, stretches his arms to the sides, and the rope splits, falling off of his body in a crimson heap on the bed sheets.
You shouldn’t be this surprised; still, your mouth hangs from your husband’s display. Somehow it’s easy to forget just how strong he is until he reminds you once more. However, the ropes have also left their own reminder in snake-like imprints in his skin.
“You know, I was gonna offer to rub lotion on you, but apparently you don’t need it,” you huff. It’s not like he can’t just use Reverse Cursed Technique to heal himself, anyway. “Also, what if I wanted to use those ropes again?”
Satoru’s hand glides softly over your thigh, his face genuinely apologetic. “We can always get more, baby. And by the way, you were really good at that, you know.”
“You think so?” you question, leaning into him. “So, you’ll let me do it again, right?”
“Well, I didn’t say that.”
His words are void of any genuine objection. 
We’ll see about that.
to my wonderful beta reader @tetsutits <3 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!
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katstarry · 8 months ago
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city of stars
rockstar!eddie munson x actress!reader
masterlist ☆
summary: eddie and you see each other at an awards ceremony, years after your break up.
warnings: angst? bittersweet? fluff? how the breakup happened can be up to you!
inspired by the movie la la land :) the upside down does not exist here! i also have no clue how this industry works, so sorry if something isn’t right or doesn’t make sense lol and i wrote this at 3am! sorry for any mistakes.
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the lights were blinding as he steps out of the expensive car. it’s surreal, the cameras begin to flash as he walks to the crimson carpet, his date by his side.
his partner was nominated for an awards that night, hence why he’s attending the ceremony. they’re both ushered to walk to the center of the carpet for photos. he positions his hand onto his dates waist and smirks to the cameras, instinctively posing.
the cameramen shout their names for their attention, choruses of “eddie! eddie! over here!” and “beautiful couple! amazing!” as they walk off the carpet, onto the interviews. they ask his date the standard questions, “what’re you wearing tonight?”, “i see you’ve brought yourself a date!”, “see you’ve both been going strong!”
he smiles as he lingers behind, answering when he needed to. having previously too busy with tours and recordings, he didn’t have a proper chance to attend a ceremony like this with his current girlfriend. it’s been nearly a year since they’ve both been official, and he thinks that she might be the one.
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as they both take their seats where the event will take place, he takes everything in.
looking around himself, he takes a deep breath, allowing his mind to wander.
he really made it.
thinking back, it’s been nearly 6 years since he left his hometown of hawkins, indiana to move to the chaos of california.
he wonders how everyone is, his old friends, what the small town is like now. what do they think of him now?
he wonders how you are. he’s heard your name before, in newspapers, in magazines. so he has an inkling that you’re doing amazing, doing everything you’ve ever dreamed of. could you even be here, tonight? he didn’t even know who else was nominated besides his girlfriend.
he looks around the dimly lit room, for a sign, a possibility, just out of curiosity. but he sees no familiar faces of his past.
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you’re running late, which has rarely ever happened. you just so happened to have a wardrobe malfunction, a strap of your dress having snapped. luckily, your team fixed it right up, but it pushed the schedule behind.
which brought you to your current dilemma, being stuck in traffic.
robin, who you’ve brought as your plus one, sits by your side.
“oh god, we’re gonna be so late! we’re gonna walk in there while the ceremony has already begun and everyone’s going to know that we’re late! hopefully we don’t walk in when someone’s giving their speech-“
“robin!” you interject her rambling, smiling in amusement, “it’s going to be okay! i’m nervous too, i absolutely hate being late. but we won’t be that late! we’ll most likely get there just as it’s starting.”
she lets out a dramatic sigh as she leans her head back onto the headrest, before sitting up straight, not wanting to mess up her appearance.
“okay, okay. you’re right. it’s gonna be okay.”
you both enjoy the ride as music plays and waste the time talking, then before you know it, you arrive.
getting out the car with robin right behind you, camera’s flash. a sign that you’re in fact, not that late. you smile and walk to the carpet, a routine you’re now used to, but never get tired of. it’s a reminder, that this is what you’ve worked so hard for.
pictures are taken, you pull robin with you for them, she was standing by wanting for you to have your ‘moment’.
both walking off the carpet and semi-speed walking to your seats, you both have big smiles on your faces. the room is dimly lit as you’re both led to your assigned seats for the night, usually you say hello to the other guests, but the night took a turn of events, and you had no time.
it was a big night, the biggest so far for your career as an actress. you were nominated, for one of the biggest awards that night, best leading actress. you were beyond ecstatic from the moment you got the news.
it was a moment of realization, a moment of pure joy.
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you met eddie in summer of 1985, after you graduated. you worked at star court mall in a small video store in order to save up money for college.
he had walked in, looking for a star wars movie. which led to a long conversation about star wars.
and the rest was history.
the friendship blossomed into shy glances and flirty comments until eventually, eddie had gotten the courage (after encouragement from his friend and uncle), to ask you out on a proper date. friends to now lovers, you were both inseparable. you helped him with graduating the following year, even attended his graduation. you were his biggest cheerleader.
he’d remember you as long as he lived. you, his first true love. his first example of an unconditional and healthy romantic love.
he’ll never forget your support, the way you encouraged him to keep going to his gigs at the hideout when he would feel like there would be no chance, you sitting at the bar, smiling up at him as he sang and played his guitar. it have him hope, he gained his confidence.
for you, the feeling was mutual. eddie, who would attend every one of your shows, no matter how big or small your role was.
the relationship had lasted four years, the year was now 1989.
1989, the year that eddie was offered his dream.
the hideout had began to gain more clients and corroded coffin began to gain more fans, steadily, they were making progress.
one night had changed everything. the band was approached by a man who claimed to be a part of a record label and had taken an interest in them and gave them his information for when they had made up that night, you were there right beside them.
as the man walked away and out the building, the band erupted into pure happiness, shouts of joy, hugs, faces of shock and in awe.
eddie turned to you, a big grin adorned his face as he embraced you and picked you up, wrapping your arms around his neck, he gave you both a twirl.
“oh my god! eddie! this is amazing!?” you smiled up at him as he placed you back on your feet, his arms still wrapped around your waist, yours now placed onto his shoudlers.
“i still can’t believe that was real, that was real right? that just happened?” he couldn’t contain his joy, “i mean i must be dreaming. there’s an angel looking at me right now.”
you blush, “oh shut up,” you lean up and give him a kiss, “you’re going to say yes, right?”
he looks at his friends over his shoulder, who heard you and look over in anticipation.
eddie looks back at you, “hell yeah we are!”
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from the moment the band agreed upon the proposal made to them, the changes came quick.
the label wanted demos for songs that they’ve played at the hideout, which led to them having to travel.
“california?”
“yeah, it’s a long way from here.”
you sit with your legs crossed and pulled up onto the couch and look at eddie, who’s sitting beside you. you’re at his trailer that he shares with his uncle wayne.
he looks at you with anticipation and bites his lips, “do you think i should go?”
“me? eddie, this is entirely up to you. but if you want my opinion, i think that you should definitely go. this is an opportunity of a lifetime! it’s your dream.” you smile at him as you grab his hands, softly squeezing.
he smiles at you, “i jus’ don’t want to be so far from you. i’ve never even been far from home, really. it’s all too fast.”
tears well up in his eyes, causing your own to do the same.
“hey.. i’m always gonna be rooting for you, baby. who knows where this’ll take us? it’s a big change, sure. but we’ll be okay. don’t let me or anyone else stop you from doing this.”
you’re both crying now, it feels different.
“i wish you could come with me.”
you place yourself onto his lap, embracing him as he wraps his arms around your waist. resting your forehead onto his own, tears streaming down both your faces.
“i wish i could too, but i’ll be too busy with college.”
you’d decided to finally attend college, having saved up enough money to afford it. you wanted to continue studying acting, get better at it.
“and when i’m done with that, we can be the iconic couple.”
you both let out teary laughs, “we’ll be okay.”
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the ceremony continued on, and finally, the moment comes.
the anticipation of waiting. the nominees for best leading actress being named and some jokes being made, it was exhilarating. beside you, robin takes a hold of your hand, both filled with nervousness.
the feeling was indescribable, the moment that your name was called.
it felt as if you were walking on air, the room was filled with applause, just as it had been throughout the night. but this time it was for you.
you won!
you stood and robin hugged you tightly, you didn’t know how to react as you hugged her back. walking to the stage was the craziest thing you’ve ever done, people shook your hand, congratulating you. some were people you looked up to, people you admired.
going up the steps, you greet the people on stage and accept your award. looking out into the crowd, you meet robin’s gaze, whose already smiling right back at you with tears in her eyes.
feeling your own fill with tears, you walk to the microphone to give your speech.
you open your mouth, and words momentarily fail you.
“wow.” you laugh, “this- this is something that i truly never would’ve thought i would receive. and to be here,” you look at the award in your hands and back up to the crowd, “with you all, is so crazy!”
“i want to thank everybody who has helped me make this dream come true.” you take a small moment to gain your composure, that moment, was when you saw him.
“wow.” you couldn’t believe he was there. the room laughs, thinking your reaction was from the award, not from seeing your past lover.
“i want to congratulate the other nominees, who i admire and am in awe of all that you do. and i want to thank my team, my friends, my family, my fans!”
you look over at eddie once again in the crowd, smiling with tears in both your eyes. it’s like deja vu.
“thank you, for everything.” the sincerity in your voice must be heard by everyone, since the room begins to applaud once again and you’re guided off the stage.
you meant the last part to be directed towards him.
and he knows, because he’ll always know you.
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s9fti3 · 7 months ago
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Eddie Munson Headcannons!!
 • Eddie who thinks he is sooooo funny whenever he scares you, such as popping out behind the wall after you use the bathroom or coming up to you while your back is turned at your locker, scaring you and all of that.
• Eddie likes bacon, I don’t know why, but he probably loves it. When your are cooking, he’ll ask you to make it- whether it is morning or not, he’ll ask you to make it. Oh, he also probably likes it burned to a crisp, definition of shoe leather.
• As much as we call him Emo and think he likes when he significant other does his makeup, I think he hates it. You either have to be dying or he has to high- and I mean high- to let you do his makeup, let alone touch his face with any type of product.
• Took you to ONE Hellfire meeting, never again. You stepped in there and walked out knowing words that you didn’t even know existed. Now I’m not even talking about bad words, I’m literally talking about the most random words and insults. Bonus points if you use them against Eddie while y’all a have a disagreement- at least that’s what he calls them.
• Eddie absolutely hates the idea of you smoking weed. He thinks it is a nasty habit that YOU shouldn’t pick up on. Anyone else, have at it, go nuts. Just pay him.
• When he isn’t metal screaming into a microphone, he actually has a calm voice. Like he should be a singer, but he doesn’t really sing. He plays guitar, but once in a while he does sing and it is a moment to never forget. He’ll sings songs like- Zombie by the Cranberries, Back to the Old House- The Smiths, or California Dreamin’ by The Mamas & The Papas.
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blushweddinggowns · 1 year ago
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It had started as a rough few weeks. A rough few weeks that turned into a rough few months. It was weird, because in all honesty when it came to social standings, Will was doing a lot better here than he ever did in Hawkins. There were no Zombie Boy stories following him here, and he even managed to get a few girls to have a crush on him. He…still wasn’t quite clear how that worked out and he really wasn’t a fan of it. But they were also the only people he could talk to at school. He was way too paranoid of getting close to any guys. God forbid he got another crush on a friend, having none of them just seemed like the better course of action. 
It didn’t help that Mike had basically stopped acknowledging that he existed after they moved. He didn’t write to him, he didn’t call him, and it felt like the only time he heard his voice was when he politely asked for El over the phone. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Especially when he still put in so much effort to get ahold of El all the time. He’d resent her for it if he could, but the only one who was having a worse time than him with the move was her. Maybe Mike was a shitty friend to him, but at least she had someone to talk to. 
But whatever. Lucas and Dustin cared, and so did Eddie and Steve. And when Jonathan wasn’t busy being high as hell, he had him too. Even Max called him more often than Mike did. Even when she was just trying to get ahold of El she’d take the time to ask him how he was, a courtesy that his best friend from freaking kindergarten couldn’t even offer anymore. 
So maybe Will didn’t have many friends in California yet, but he didn’t feel very lonely. 
Just a little heartbroken. 
But he could get past it. Especially when some of his favorite people were only one phone call away. Sometimes it made him feel a little guilty, that Steve and Eddie were his go to for talking about his problems. Especially since Jonathan was always trying to get him to open up. Even when he was zoinked out of his gourd he never failed to ask Will how his day was. Though…he did have a hard time following the plot when Will told him. 
But that didn’t change the fact that Jonathan always wanted to help. But what could Will say? I’m depressed because I’m in love with my best friend who doesn’t care about me? And oh yeah, I’m gay? Yeah, no. That wasn’t going to happen. If Jonathan of all people hated him for that…he’s not sure he could recover. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t think about it.
It was kind of pathetic, but he’d fantasize about it sometimes. Coming out to his family, everyone smiling and saying they’d love him anyway, no matter what. And if he was being honest with himself, it was technically possible, right? His brother had never said a bad word about Steve and Eddie. His mom never failed to shut the homophobic crap down when his crappy sperm donor had still been around. But it was different when it was your own kid, right? Will wasn’t quite sure. But he did know that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 
So he called who he always did when he had a problem. It only took a few rings before someone was picking up, Steve’s familiar voice on the other end, “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” Will sighed, flopping face first into his bed, the phone pressed to his ear. 
He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”
God, he was such a dad. Will wouldn’t be shocked if he started wearing socks with sandals by the time he hit twenty-three. He went straight to the point, “Do you think that living happily ever after is like a real thing? For people like us?”
Steve laughed, “It better fucking be after all the shit we’ve seen.”
“I don’t mean the Upside Down stuff,” Will sighed, “I mean like…y’know. The gay.”
Steve snorted, “The gay? I’m going to have to tell Eddie that one.”
Will rolled his eyes at the redundant statement. He had learned a long time ago that telling Steve something meant telling Eddie something, and vice versa. He sighed a tiny smile on his face, “Oh what, like he’s not already next to you listening in?”
“...touché.” 
Will laughed, turning over to stare at the ceiling, “I’m serious though. Like…is it even possible? It’s not like everyone gets to magically find their soulmate at eight.”
“Is that such a bad thing though?” Steve asked, “Because no offense dude but honestly? I think you could do a lot better than Mike-”
“Be nice,” Will interrupted, torn between being defensive for Mike’s sake and amused at Steve never failing to find a way to come at him.
“I will when he starts being nice to me.”
“Well that’s just not going to happen,” Will laughed, “I’m starting to think Eddie’s right to call you a brat.”
Steve gasped, loud and scandalized. He’d been hanging out with Robin too much, “Me?! Never!”
Will could barely hear it over the receiver, but he could hear Eddie’s faint voice coming through, Yes he is!
And it was making him laugh even harder. Will missed this, so much. He missed having a place where he could just say whatever he wanted, with no worries. Even now he was looking over his shoulder, anxious at the chance that his mom or a sibling could come bursting in at any moment to catch him in the act of being comfortable. It was a confusing and weird feeling, and probably a little unfair to assume they’d prefer him to be sad and quiet over happy and queer. But he still did.
But for now he was safe. And he might as well take the chance to speak on all the things he couldn’t with anyone else, “But what if I don’t want to do better than Mike? Like…it’s stupid but do you think that um, I would ever have a chance?”
The answer was a strong no, but sometimes Will just needed a reality check from someone else’s mouth. 
Steve sighed, “I think the odds are pretty low bud. All jokes aside, even if he was playing for our team, I’m not sure if he’s the type who could even accept it. Y’know?”
Will did know, unfortunately. And if he’d never met Eddie and Steve there was a solid chance he’d be that guy. The truth stung a bit, but it was necessary, “I know, I know. But…do you think he would accept me? If he ever found out?”
“He fucking better. Otherwise I’ll-”
Will heard a shuffle on the other end, paired with something that sounded suspiciously like whining before he heard Eddie’s voice, “Will? You there? Sorry about that. I had to take the phone away before he started talking about beating up a child.”
Will grinned, happy to hear Eddie’s voice, “You made the right call. Do you think they’ll ever get along?”
“Not in this lifetime,” Eddie sighed, “And I know Mike’s not perfect, but if he’s okay with us why wouldn’t he be with you?”
“But it’s different when it’s a friend, isn’t it?” Will asked, “I’m not even sure if my mom would accept it, let alone him.”
“Well first of all, you don’t have to tell anyone shit, okay? But I can promise you that Joyce would be fine with it. And so would Jonathan for that matter. And I don’t even know if El is aware of what homophobia even is.”
It all sounded a lot more believable out of Eddie’s mouth than what was going on in his own head. But still… “What if they don’t though? What if I tell them and they kick me out or something? Or make me go to therapy?”
“Okay, on the off, off chance that you tell them and Joyce suddenly became a monster overnight, we’ll go to plan B. Steve and I will drive up there to kidnap you and you can live in Indy with us.”
Will grinned. He could live with that, “Can’t we just make that Plan A?”
“No, because your family loves you, as they should by the way. And this won’t bother them, I swear. Plus, telling them on your own terms is a lot less awkward than getting caught in the act.”
Will didn’t even want to know what Eddie was alluding to with that one. Poor Wayne, “But what if we’re wrong?”
He wanted to believe him, he really did, but stranger things had happened outside of gay people being disowned. 
“Will, listen to me,” Eddie said, his voice confident enough to make Will perk up, “I swear on Steve’s life, okay? There is no way in hell anyone in that house is gonna reject you for this.”
Will blinked, a little shocked at just how much faith he had in his family. More than he did, “Really?”
“Really. Trust me on this man, you’re going to be fine.”
They hung up pretty soon after that, mostly because El started knocking on his door for the phone. The conversation made him feel a bit better, but also…nervous. Could he really tell them? Would it all just work out? Just like that? Will wasn’t so sure. 
He decided against doing it right away despite Eddie’s own confidence. But he did start to drop a few feelers. He started with Jonathan, waiting until he was high enough for him to forget the conversation if it didn’t go well. And that wasn’t a long wait. 
He found him and his new friend sprawled out in his room, Fast Times playing in the background as they both stared into space. Though Will wasn’t quite sure he could count what Argyle was doing as staring. He’s eyes were barely open, and Will was 90 percent sure he was passed out. But that was good for him, now was as good a time as any. 
Jonathan smiled at him as he wandered in, his words kind but slurring, “Hey! What’s up? You never come in here. You wanna watch something or…?”
Will shook his head, his heart aching a little at the way it made his brother frown. Maybe he really had been neglecting him, too caught up in his own head to spend time with the closest thing he had to a Dad. 
It made him feel a little bad, but that wasn’t what he was here for, “No thanks. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure!” Jonathan said, way too excited at the prospect of a simple question, but maybe that was the weed, “What’s up?”
Will shrugged, casually leaning against the door. Or at least he hoped it looked casual, because his heart was beating a mile per minute, “Steve said that his and Eddie’s anniversary is coming up soon. Do you think I should send them something?”
Jonathan tilted his head up to look at him, his eyes bloodshot with a tiny smile on his face, “That’s like…so nice dude. You’re always so nice. How are you so nice?”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” Will pressed, hope fluttering in his chest, “To be, y’know, celebrating them like that?”
Jonathan shook his head, “Nah man. It’s like…romance. Y’know? It’s sweet.”
“Yeah dude, gay guys are cool,” Argyle agreed out of nowhere, his eyes still closed,  “Good for Stu and Eggie. Gay people got like, the best hair.”
Will didn’t really know what to do with that one. But Jonathan was impressed. He jerked his head back to stare at Argyle, his voice in awe, “How’d you know he had good hair? I never told you he had good hair.”
“I bet they both have good hair,” Argyle sighed, “They alway do.”
“Are you like, psychic?” Jonathan asked, like that made any sense at all.
“Shit, you think I could be?”
Will watched as the two of them started to debate the idea, his brow raised. God, weed sure was a hell of a drug. He left them to it after that, deciding to slowly back out of the room. But he was going to chalk it up as a positive. 
preview for the next chapter (kind of) of this fic
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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year ago
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your way back to me
Dad!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader
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Summary: Jake’s best student gets into an accident and ends up in the hospital, and he doesn’t want to leave her alone so he waits for her mother to show up. But her mother just so happens to be the love of his life who left him in the middle of the night decades prior, and it’s about time she shared her biggest secret. 
Warnings: Allusion to smut. Cursing. idk, that may be it. 
Notes: This is an AU of the Oh, Baby series. 
She was a good kid. 
A great kid. 
Dedicated, strong, wise beyond her years. Wickedly stubborn, and yet, she managed to keep it from impacting her work. She didn’t have the ego; that entitlement and bravado that came with being as talented as she was. But she wasn’t just talented. As if it were woven into the network of her veins, she was the absolute best at what she did, far surpassing her classmates. 
No one wondered how she achieved so much at such a young age. She lived by some internal set of rules that Jake had caught onto over the last few months. Something along the lines of ‘work harder, train longer, don’t lose hope, never surrender.’ He could see it in every choice she made—too similar to his own mantra of motivation when he was developing his skills in the sky so many years ago. But she was also open. Open to offering others what she knew, and open to learning from others what she didn’t. He couldn’t have asked for a better student; didn’t even realize one like her could possibly exist.
He never had a child. There was one woman he would’ve given it all to, but when she left, finding another he cared to build a family with was not so easily achieved. But if anyone were to come close to what he imagined his kid to be like, Eve was it. The qualities she possessed that he recognized as his own were what bonded them, and the rest of her—the other pieces that made her whole—were infinitely better. They surpassed him. Those qualities, he’d deduced, came from her mother. 
He didn’t know much about Eve’s mother, and knew of Eve's father only what Eve had shared with him—that solely being that the man was a pilot and the determining factor in her choosing to be the same. And maybe, he thought, that was why the two of them fell into their easy flow. He had always wanted a child; someone to care and be there for, and Eve was in need of the support and encouragement that should have come from the father she never knew. And so developed the relationship they had—one of instructor and mentor, confidant and friend. 
Rooster teased him; told him that if he wanted something to take care of and watch over like a papa hawk, then he should’ve just gotten a puppy. But a puppy was a thought-out process. It was an acknowledged adjustment to daily life that required careful planning. It wasn’t the same. He hadn’t planned on taking Eve under his wing. Somehow, it was a natural development. He cared about the kid’s well-being. He wanted her to do well. The possibility of her fire and liveliness being snuffed out from a mission gone wrong was unable to pass through his mind without an accompanying squeeze to his heart. Should it become a reality, he would lose the closest thing he had to a daughter, and he knew he’d feel the full force of it. 
That was why he stayed when the rest of her team had eventually gone back to base. Despite his exhaustion, despite his duties, the aches in his body from cheap waiting room chairs, and the hours upon hours of unchanging news, he refused to leave. 
Eve only had her mother, and while she had been notified of the accident, it would take ages to make her way to California from the east coast. When she would finally arrive at the hospital, he didn’t want her to be alone. He wanted Eve’s mother to understand that there was someone else who cared about her baby, who tried so damn hard to protect her when he could, and wouldn’t leave her side when he failed. 
—-
Jake…
Jake!
He internally groaned. 
He hated when you called out to him. He hated that your voice always sounded so clear; so near that it filled him with enough false hope to have him reaching out into the darkness, thinking his fingers might actually feel your body. He imagined them grazing along your skin as you smiled at him in a promise that you were real, right in front of him, able to be tugged close and held tight and kissed until the rest of the world fell apart around you. He pictured you still in his bed, wrapped around him, trading whispers of love. It was a common stabbing to his chest that never failed to pierce through to his heart. Yet, if it disappeared, if you disappeared, if the dreams stopped, he knew it might be the thing to finally undo him. 
“Jake!”
He jolted upright in his chair before his eyes had a chance to snap open. He looked up at a ghost. Stunning. Ethereal. A well-known silhouette.
Huffing, he positioned his elbow back on the armrest so he could rest his cheek against his fist. He allowed his eyes to drift closed. “Go away,” he mumbled. “You’re not real.”
“What are you talking about?”
His vision again tried to adjust to the overhead lighting. With a bite in his tone, he replied, “You are not—” 
His eyes widened as they met those he had stared into so many times before. Real? 
Jake shook his head, trying to recall any serious hits to the head. But then an invading thought caused him to remember his purpose. 
His stiff joints cracked as he hopped out of his seat and rushed to the main desk.
"Excuse me, Miss." The words tumbled from his lips so fast it startled the young woman behind the counter. "Can you please tell me if—"
"She's going to be fine, Jake."
His breath hitched at the voice not leaving the mouth of the shocked young woman. The voice that came from behind him. That voice. The only one that mattered.
Moments ago, he was convinced his mind was having fun with him, playing and betraying simultaneously. However, needing to know Eve's state had shoved that concern to the side. But now it was unmistakable.
Jake gulped. He slowly turned. 
Fuck.
His brow pinched, eyes beginning to sting as his heart went wild inside his chest. 
Beautiful. So damn beautiful. 
Like a fresh wave, it washed over him how different he felt just at the mere sight of you compared to how he did for any woman he had in his life over the last decades. Those feelings never came close to matching. They weren't on the same tier; couldn't be when what he felt for you sat high on a pedestal of his own making. 
His eyes savored their slow scanning of you.
Exhaustion showed in the slump of your shoulders and in the dark circles under your eyes. Your hair was slightly messy. The shape of your body was hidden under a large sweatshirt. Your thumbnails were worn down from being nervously picked at. And Jake could see a few fine lines touched around your face. But you were still you. You still looked like his girl. And he couldn't understand how the hell you were in front of him.
"Eve's going to be ok," you repeated. "I talked with the doctor already. They gave her some medication to help her rest."
"You talked to…" He was still worn out. Brain trying to catch up with the world around him until, eventually, it clicked. "Eve is your daughter."
The empty room was silent as you stared at him. Then you said, "We can come back in the morning to see her. They said visiting hours are over so we have to go."
You twisted on your heel, making your way to the exit. Your steps against the tile echoed. 
You were real. Each passing second further proving it. So he followed after you.
"Wait! You can't just walk aw—"
"Not here," you interjected. 
His mouth instantly closed. He wouldn't argue, fearing that doing so would somehow make you disappear. And that was not something he was willing to risk.
He trailed you out the front door of the hospital.
"Are we far enough away now that you'll talk to me?"
You stopped and faced him. Neither of you seemed to guess what to do first. He had asked his question and he wanted his answer, but you didn't appear to know how to give one, so he skipped past it and instead glanced at your ring finger. It was bare. But maybe that meant nothing.
"Are you married?" He asked.
"No." You wrapped your arms around your middle. Hugging yourself. Barring yourself from him. Your weight shifted to your other foot, then your averted gaze made its way back to his. "Are you?"
His head shook as he soaked in the relief of your response.
Heaviness settled between you despite the California breeze moving the air along. 
"Did you know?" He broke the silence, but the tension held firm. And as if you expected it, you didn’t flinch. "Did you know I was her instructor?"
The simple gesture of your nod was a punch to the gut.
"And you didn't want to reach out? Talk to me? See me?"
"Jake—"
"I would've done anything to get a chance to—" He stopped himself at the pain screwing your features. That expression had always ripped him apart. Twenty years changed nothing. 
Taking a calming breath, he continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't…I'm not trying to…" His hand ran down his face. "Shit, I don't know how to do this anymore. I never thought I'd see you again." 
You made no rushing move to collect the words he was giving you, and Jake sighed in disappointment. This was not how the two of you interacted. You didn’t stand so far apart. You didn’t hold yourselves back from touching one another. You weren’t supposed to be nervous in each other's presence. 
"You look beautiful."
With a snort, you replied, "I'm a mess." You looked down at your sweatshirt and leggings. "I wore this to bed last night. They called me at the crack of dawn and I practically ran to the airport." Tugging at the hem of the oversized top did nothing to erase its wrinkles. "I didn't know you guys train so early."
"Eve likes to, so I let her," Jake said. "I'm so relieved that she's going to be ok. She's really great. If I ever had a daughter, I'd hope she'd be like Eve."
A hard swallow briefly created a bulge in your throat. Your arms found their way around your waist again.
"Do you, uh…do you have a place to stay?" With me, he thought. You belong with me.
"I'll find a hotel."
"You can sleep at mine."
"I couldn't intrude—"
"Honey, it's you. You're not an intrusion," he said, stepping closer. 
He would’ve paused to consider the slip of the endearment and the slight widening of your eyes, but he too desperately needed to convince you to go with him. He needed more time. More time to exchange questions, to learn all he’d missed. More time to hear your voice, and maybe, if he could encourage it, hear your laugh as well. More time to be in your presence and exist in the space you enchanted. More of any and everything with you. 
His hand rested on your arm and even through the thick material of the sweatshirt, he could feel your heat. So familiar. So welcoming. 
Home.
"Come home with me, Honey. I've still got the spare room."
There'd been an unspoken agreement, as Jake drove back to his house, that neither of you would discuss all that had been revealed within the half-hour prior. Well, ‘agreement’ maybe was not the most accurate of words. You didn't speak, so Jake didn't pressure you. Had you chosen to open your mouth, he would've hung onto every syllable. 
When you did finally step into the house, you shocked him with your sudden willingness to ask questions. How long had he been an instructor? Why had he kept the house when he'd surely been deployed elsewhere for long periods of time throughout his career? How the rest of his old team was?
He answered each one as you made your way down the hall into the living room. Then you went quiet and Jake glanced over his shoulder to find you staring at his wall of frames. From left to right, your eyes scanned each picture—those of his friends, group shots of his past classes, and one or two of him with his Gram. But you stared longest at the last one, and reached up to softly run your fingers over your younger face; a happy young woman smiling wide from his kiss on your cheek. 
His chest tightened. "Do you want something to drink?"
You jerked your hand back to your side. A pinkish tinge rushed to your cheeks from having been caught, but seeing that reaction only produced the same in him. "No, thank you."
Nodding, he said, “Make yourself at home.” Just as you used to. Back when you were so close, so attached to one another that home really was being in each other’s space. It was the way things should have always been. It’s the way things would have continued to be had you not left him. 
Jake grabbed a glass from his cabinet as you sat, poured himself a swigs-worth of alcohol, and downed it. He needed to curb the edge; calm the wiggling nerves under his skin. Then he joined you on the couch. 
“How are you feeling?”
You blew out a long breath. “Exhausted. I was in panic mode all day. The only reason I’m not suffocating right now is because the doctor promised me she’ll be fine.”
“I felt that relief, too,” he said, trying to restrain himself from wringing his hands. “I mean, I know she isn’t my daughter, but I try to help and prepare her for every obstacle as if she were my own.”
As he had hoped, he got to hear your laugh. Not the one he so fondly remembered, though. It was a weak chuckle, not the least bit imbued with humor, and there was an odd twinge of something else he didn't quite understand. 
“Of course you do," you muttered under your breath.
His brow pinched, and he was ready to ask what you meant, but his first word was interrupted. 
“Jake, why didn’t you ever marry?”
"Uh…" He shrugged. "I don’t know. It just never happened.”
Lying to you was not something he was accustomed to. It was different than when he was a younger man keeping the secret of his feelings from the woman he’d loved for a year. You’d never directly asked him what he felt for you, so he was never in a position to be untruthful. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell you now that the sole reason he never married was because the only woman he ever imagined having a family with vanished from his life while he slept unaware and unable to stop it. You, though, didn’t seem to have the same problem when it came to properly moving on. You had created that family. Without him. 
“Were you ever married?” he asked. “To Eve’s father? Or someone?”
For such a simple curiosity, you took a while to address it, opting instead to sit in silence, eyes not entirely focused on any particular thing in the room as one thumbnail picked at the other. 
He knew that look, only shown when you were overthinking. 
"Jake," you began, eyes still lost for a moment before they flicked over to his, “Do you know how old Eve is?"
"Sure. Pretty much everyone does. She's one of the youngest to ever be in the program," he chuckled. 
A sense of pride encouraged his smile. Being so young made Eve’s skill and abilities wildly impressive, and aiding in her success couldn't be compared to anything less than an honor. 
His grin remained long after the lingering of his statement faded entirely. And not once did your expression shift. Rather, the radiating anxiety continued to halo your body. 
Jake placed his hand on top of yours to soothe their fiddling, and you immediately grabbed onto him, pulling that hand closer and keeping it snug between your palms. 
“Honey, what’s wrong?"
Sighing, you peered up at him. Your gaze was sad, desperate, pleading, in a way. And he stared back, trying to decipher that pain; hoping to figure out why you were looking at him as you were, and why you'd asked the questions you did.
Then his eyes widened. 
His jaw slackened. 
Lips parted.
He’d heard of those random shocks. Those instances of a thread suddenly linking two dots, and that new connection bringing a clarity which, in hindsight, should have been so very obvious. 
Jake sifted through his rapid replaying of memories that spanned the last couple of months. 
Phoenix eyeing the young student and commenting how the girl bore quite the resemblance to him—He’d brushed it off. Plenty of people had blond hair and green eyes. 
The way she sometimes spoke. A specific phrase said in a specific tone that he’d only ever heard come out of your mouth—Just an odd coincidence.
The fact that her name was the same as his grandmother's—There were only so many names to select from, right?
But now, with that new unbreakable thread connecting those previously sporadic dots, clarity smacked him upside the head. 
"You left me at the beginning of that summer," he started, voice low and slow and careful with each word. "And Eve's birthday is in March."
"Yes."
Looking down at your joined hands, he nodded and said, "She's our daughter."
He could practically hear your swallow. 
"...Yes."
He stood then, hand slipping from yours so it could run down his face as the other settled on his hip. He blew out a heavy breath.
"Jake, I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I thought—I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. When I found out you were her instructor, I was going to find a way to tell you, but I was so scared and it was selfish and—"
"Does she know?"
"No, she—When she came here she told me she looked up to you, and that if she imagined the kind of man her father was, he'd be like you." 
You paused to properly exhale, head hanging in the aftermath. 
He wanted to erase that showing of shame, but if he interrupted you, you might not have given the rest of the story. And he needed the rest of the story. He needed the truth of the events that had haunted him for decades. 
"I always felt I made the biggest mistake of my life the day I left you, but hearing her say that solidified it. And for years, I let fear keep me from righting that wrong,” you said, a droplet of water falling from your face, soaking into the fabric of your leggings. "All this time I've been so afraid that you wouldn't want her, and you wouldn't want me, and it's paralyzed me."
His fingers twitched at his sides, begging him to allow them to brush away your tears—to let the woman he loved know that he didn’t hate her for her past choices—but he couldn’t move. And the only thing he could think to say was, "Should it really have taken her getting hurt for you to tell me?"
Raw heartbreak seeped into your gaze.
"So it's my daughter that is laying in a hospital bed right now." The more he said it, the more he called her that in acknowledgment of who they truly were to one another, the more it ached each limb and vein and nerve of his body to know that she was hurting. Yes, he had always cared about her and treated her like his own, but Eve being his daughter changed things. It altered his biological instincts and the chemical balance in his brain. Failing in protecting her was no longer just a failure, it was catastrophic to his soul. 
He pictured her face bruised, her lip cut, her cheek swollen. He imagined your sheer horror once learning she was injured thousands of miles out of your reach. You’d faced it alone. You never should have been alone to begin with. 
"I should've kept looking for you," he said. "I should have just told everyone else to fuck off."
"Jake, if they were telling you to give up, then—"
"Don't. Do not say it was for good reason. We could've been together. If I had found you we would've been a family."
The day his friends had sat him down, laid out what they believed to be the reality he refused to accept, and told him to move on, was fresh in his mind. Not a moment of it had faded. He’d dreamt about it for ages—sometimes still did—always waking devastated. 
Your palm cupping his cheek called him back from his thoughts. 
"The only reason we weren't a family is because I fucked up. I did,” you stressed. “This isn't on you."
You were suddenly so close, he realized. So warm within his space. How he’d survived losing you, he didn’t know. 
"Would you have come back with me? If I had been able to find where you were?"
Your hand fell but he grabbed it before you could retreat, and thankfully, you didn’t fight him. Then you sighed, the act expelling the tenseness that had stiffened your form. "I'm not going to answer that question." 
Perhaps for the best. Either answer would’ve broken him.
He wished to go back in time, to never give up on his search. He wanted a chance to convince the woman he loved to raise a child together. He wanted to be a father to that baby girl as she’d grown, and enjoy all of the moments that came with being her parent. 
Nothing could give that to him now, but at least he wouldn’t be losing any more time. 
Eve being grown didn’t mean she wasn’t his. Being in one another’s lives proved to be predestined. He was a father, had always been, and could maybe finally be seen as a father by his daughter now that you had bared it all and given the truth.
So he figured maybe it was only fair to do the same for you.
Jake looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes bore into yours, taking in the swell of your pupils and the different colors flecked around in what remained of the ring of your irises. "Is this secret sharing day?" he asked.
"What?” Your brow pinched as you sniffled and swiped your fingers under the lower lashes framing your right eye to remove the final remnants of tears. “I-I suppose so. If that’s really what you want to call it."
“Good.” Both hands were on his hips to give him some sense of physical stability, and he licked his lips, then said, "I didn't get married because I never found anyone I loved as much as I love you. I couldn’t fully give myself to anyone while I still belonged to someone else.”
Shock and disbelief melded inside that previously heartbroken gaze.
He hadn’t been able to say the words before you left. You hadn’t given him a chance. But he could see now that you had spent years wondering if felt that deeply for you, as he had wondered if you felt that way for him. 
 “Jake, you…you love me?”
“I've always loved you, Honey,” he declared just before his lips met yours. 
The soft touch didn’t seem to stun you. You didn’t take your time to adjust to the kiss you hadn’t shared in decades. Instead, you fell right into it, right alongside him. Your arms rose to wrap around his neck, sending shudders up his spine. You tugged him closer as he did the same to you. You moaned and whimpered and let your tongue play with his, so generously allowing him to get drunk off of your taste.
You kissed him exactly like he remembered; like nothing had changed or interrupted the perfect path you once started on. There was the same sweetness that, just as it used to, surrendered to an underlying burn. A familiar need for each other that had never died. And you settled into it; kissing skin and grasping at clothes and snuffing out all space between you until neither of you could take it anymore.
“Honey?” A little whine into your mouth.
“Yes,” you replied, sealing your lips again before he could say another word. Because you weren’t just answering the call of his name for you. You were answering the unspoken question the both of you already knew was coming. 
Jake grinned into the kiss and slipped his hand down the front of your leggings. 
—-
"I assume you have more questions?" 
Your voice was the first break in the peaceful silence where he had been lazily pressing his lips to your neck and bare shoulder while your back was tucked against his chest. 
He did have questions. But it was a war whether to ask them or to remain a little longer in the bubble of bliss where he could touch you and cuddle you and kiss you. You had asked, though, and he'd never been too good at denying you anything. 
Pulling his lips away from your skin, he said, “A hundred of them.” 
You flipped under the bedsheet to face him. "Any particular one you wish to start with?"
Jake paused. Not because he didn’t know the first of which to ask, but because your answer had a great deal of power over him. It contained his hope and his pain, either with the potential to destroy the other. It was an answer that would dictate his future. 
"Can she know?" He finally asked.
"She deserves to know,” you replied to his relief. “She'd want to know. As long as you want her to know, too."
His arm over your waist curled and pulled you closer. "Of course I do, Honey." 
"Then we can tell her tomorrow, if you want."
"Are you ready for that?"
"It's not about me," you said. "She might forgive me now, she might not. It could take a while, I suppose, and I hate that, but I'd deserve it."
When your head dipped down away from his, he ran his hand over the strands of your hair and brushed his lips against your forehead. 
"I hope that we all can look at this as a chance to have something new, though," you continued. "I'd like for us to look ahead, not behind."
Jake smiled. That was all he wanted. Just a chance to have what he’d lost. Everything he had lost.
"And what about you and me?" He hummed as his knuckle under your chin tilted your face back up to his. "Do we get something new as well? Because I don't know if I'm capable of letting you walk out of my life again."
The corners of your lips curved the slightest and you cupped his cheek, drawing him further into you. The kiss was gentle, brief, but more than enough to send tingles throughout him. Then you separated a hairs width and whispered:
"Jake, I'm not capable of leaving you again."
----
A/N: Ok, so this might be it for a little bit, guys, as far as fic posting. There’s been a lack of interest it seems lately and i’m not in a good space mentally to be able to put a lot into it and not know how it’s being received. It’s no ones fault but my own that I feel this way. This is how I’ve chosen to spend my time and this is the platform I picked. I want to write the rest of Oh, Baby and Beyond the Hills stuff but idk. Maybe i’ll snap out of it. But this was just to let those of you who have been following know what the plan might be. I’m very thankful that some of you have stuck around this long.
Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie 
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pagannatural · 9 months ago
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1.06 Skin
-Dean tries to say no to Sam about going to California but it’s a losing battle because Sam has the puppydog eyes which are lethal.
-Jared Padalecki is very good at platonic chemistry. He had zero sexual tension with the mom from Dead in the Water, for example, even when he pulled her out of her bathtub and she was lying on top of him naked and panting. It wasn’t a romantic moment. Likewise here he hugs his friend Becky and is obviously happy to see her, but they have zero sexual chemistry. It makes the sexual tension between Sam and Dean stand out and feel significant.
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I also love how unhappy Dean looks seeing Sam’s friend from his time at Stanford.
-Sam’s “you’re not my brother” when he catches the shapeshifter kills me.
-“He’s sure got issues with you” SAY MORE. It seems like Dean’s memories or whatever it is are being melded with the shapeshifter’s, because he only talks about things that he can easily relate to. I bet there’s a ton more Dean stuff that the shapeshifter just doesn’t assimilate.
-“Dean stay out of the sewers alone I mean it!” “Sorry Sam, you know me, I just can’t wait.” Sam does worry about Dean. And Dean is kind of a reckless act-first think-later type and I bet that drove little Sam crazy. Did younger Dean kind of enjoy Sam’s concern? I bet he secretly relished it.
-during their fistfight Shapeshifter Dean says “not bad little brother” and Sam says “you’re not him” with such fire. It feels possessive.
-It recalls their first scene together when Dean breaks in and Sam says “Dean?” with such eager disbelief- like, Is it really you? It makes me wonder if Sam kept hoping to see Dean while he was at Stanford, if he kept hoping he’d visit or call, or if he did a double take every time he saw a broad-shouldered guy in a leather jacket.
-“even when we were kids I always kicked your ass” between fighting and cuddling and moving so much they must have had more physical contact with each other than anyone else in their lives.
-Dean walks in to find his own likeness on top of Sam, strangling him. I can’t remember him ever looking as murderous again as he looks here
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He shoots the shapeshifter and goes to the body. This is how the brothers look at each other before Dean rips the amulet Sam gave him off of the shapeshifter and puts it back on.
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What even IS this? What is this moment between them?
The episode explored the isolation and intensity of the brothers’ relationship. Their desires for lives of their own exist in opposition to their lives together.
But for Dean the main issue is not his desire for a separate life, it’s the desire for Sam to be his even though Sam left him. They both fight their gravitation pull toward each other for different reasons. The shapeshifter fed Dean’s abandonment fears by taking everything that Dean loves- his appearance, his car, his amulet, his brother. His self loathing comes from his belief that everyone will leave him, that he’ll never be enough to make them stay. Sam still has a foot out the door, in the lives of his Stanford friends.
This specific moment though. When Dean kills his double, saves Sam, and takes back the amulet, it feels like he’s reclaiming Sam. Early in the episode Dean told Sam that hunters can’t really have friends. He’s saying You’re mine and you can really only either be mine or be anything else. For Sam, the world is divided between My Brother and Not My Brother. Dean has just killed the thing which is Not His Brother.
And Sam ACCEPTS. He chooses his brother. Becky tells him it must be lonely hunting monsters and he smiles and says not really, looking over at Dean. He says what can I do, it’s family. He lies, but he’s not going to stay in touch with her. He’s in for however long this takes with Dean.
At the end of the episode Dean tells Sam that he’s sorry he can’t have the college life he wanted. Sam tells Dean it’s okay, he never really fit in at college. They always come back to each other. They only really fit in with each other.
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daydream-believin · 10 months ago
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a real stand up guy ba dum tss
summary: you get stood up by an internet man. douxie, your waiter and secret admirer, remedies that jackass’s mistake.
warnings: uh. swearing, alcohol, i’m too lazy to proof, the yooj. oh and doux doesn’t know how to handle this crush without getting slightly into stalker territory sorry. its a red flag but i think its cute. you may not think its cute.
a/n: tumblr was glitching while i tried to post this so idk how many paragraphs i accidentally erased. i mean i tried my best to make that number 0. but anyways if something is off let me know. the challenge for this one is that im not allowed to use italics. which you should know was very hard for me agshjfkgjdjh
taglist: @moppetwithamanbun @alovesongshewrote @blixeon @prismarts @fantasyiswaybetterthanreality @ukuleles-and-roses
okay quick psa i know it’s been years so if you want off the taglist just hmu. also if you were on the taglist and got taken off thats bc tumblr says you don’t exist anymore
uh this was a request. i’m not doing requests tho dont think that. looking back yeah that ask if from march 2022 and this doesn’t even match up to what you asked 😂 im so sorry @rose-writes-shit
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you took a peek at your watch. 7:34 o’ clock. letting your head fall into the open palm of your propped up hand, you sighed.
coffee meets bagel boy was supposed to have met you at 7:00.
of fucking course. you let your plucky pink-haired coworker convince you to download a fucking dating app and make a profile, just for the only guy who had actually been interested enough in you to ask you on a real date to stand you up. makes sense.
it’s not like you’ve ever had luck with these kind of things. it’s not like you’ve ever had luck period. your kind might be the black cat of humans.
you’ve spent way too long eating the free bread at a mr. benoit’s of all places. it was the “classiest” establishment in the certain suburban hellscape of california you inhabited, albeit. you took in the scenery for the millionth time that night with a renewed sense of disgust. at least now you had a legitimate reason to hate this place.
your waiter slinked over, and you could tell he felt bad for you with the awkward shuffling gait to the pity grimace on his face.
“so, uh, perhaps more bread?”
you rolled your face towards him, arbitrarily throwing animosity his way with your dead eyes, just because he was there. but soon your compulsive desire to be the funniest pathetic wretch in the room won out.
“i’m considering burning this whole place down right now, actually,” you joked.
he grit his teeth, sucking in a breath, “could i perhaps convince you to do that on a night i’m not closing, instead? tomorrow is my least favorite coworker’s turn, for your consideration,”
“hmm,” you pretended to think, “i’ll do that then, it’s only kind,”
“thank you for your generosity,” he grinned, “now, are you still waiting for someone or?”
-
douxie had been watching you for over half an hour now. not creepily. he swears. he just got a little excited when he saw you come into the restaurant is all.
anddd maybe he might have badgered the host into giving you one of his tables. but again, he was just excited. he’s been looking for an excuse to talk to you for the past three months, after all. forgive him for jumping on the opportunity.
he maybe fancied you. just a wee bit. perhaps a rather large bit. or at least, the version of you he’s cooked up in his head from the way he sees you interact with people at house parties and the things he’s heard from zoe.
but he’s sure he’ll love you. as soon as he gets to know who you actually are. which, hopefully, is about to be sooner rather than later.
he did not anticipate this situation, however. whatever benevolent deity blessed him on this night decided to throw a jar of pickled herring in with the otherwise yummy pastry filled gift basket they left for him.
not long after you arrived at 6:56 pm, not that he marked the time you came in or anything he just happened to glance at the clock around that time, he watched you, how they say, deflate. your demeanor shifted from antsy to sad to downright annoyed.
you were dressed nicely. not fancy, not pretending like this wasn’t a benoit’s. but nice. orderly. like you wanted to make a good impression on whoever it was you were expecting to meet. so either a date, or mayhaps a job interview.
not that you didn’t look nice or orderly on other days. you just weren’t in your hex tech uniform shirt. or in the incredibly casual clothes you wore when he saw you around. you were just. clearly cleaned-up, is all.
whoever it was, it was obvious that they were not coming. doux applauded you for being patient enough to wait this long, but again, they obviously weren’t coming. which, if it was a date, was good for him, but bad for you. very bad for you.
and honestly who does this person think they are? letting you down like this? horrible. disgraceful. this person was a grade A jerk-off. they have to be dead from the neck up to leave you waiting here like this, publicly embarrassing you as you sat at a table set for two all alone at one of the busiest restaurants in town. shame on them.
he was glad you seemed to be in the joking mood, however. and about arson, too. oh, he’s always had a soft spot for arsonists.
he hoped you’ll forgive him for having to do his job. if it was up to him, he’d give you all the bread in the pantry just so you wouldn’t leave. but alas, he had to deal the killing blow.
“now, are you still waiting for someone, or?”
your eyes drifted downward to the empty wineglass in your hand as you swirled it sarcastically as if it were still full.
you sighed, “yeah, no, it’s clear he doesn’t plan on showing,” you looked back up at him ruefully, “i’ll order now. i shouldn’t have waited this long for an internet man, anyway, huh? could’ve made it less pathetic.”
“i don’t think there’s a way to make these things any ‘more’ or ‘less’ pathetic,” he began taking out his notepad, ready to write, “because i wouldn’t call it pathetic at all. getting stood up is a thing that’s done to you, not because of who you are, but because of who someone else chooses to be… unless you stole this guy’s car or something. then it’s your fault.”
you laughed. genuinely.
“no, no, it’s a first date. i haven’t known this guy long enough to steal his car yet. but thanks… that’s. a better outlook than mine. kinder,” you apologized, “… uh, can i have like, the cheapest bottle of white wine you’ve got back there? the whole thing this time.”
“i take it back. that definitely made it pathetic.”
while you shared a laugh, douxie mentally congratulated himself. you had just given him the information that a) you were single and b) you were into men. a good day to be a charming single man, then. he had a chance.
“so are you ordering any real food as well? or did you plan on just having wine and bread for dinner? have to say, i don’t think that’s wise, love.”
“well i suppose i gotta, since, i’ve, uh, eaten three baskets of complimentary bread,” you stumbled over your words for a second there, “and i’m sure it’d make the manager mad if it didn’t, right?”
“right you are. he’s uh,” douxie lowered his voice, “he’salreadybeenonmydickaboutyou so yeah, you gotta. plus i’m just— you should eat something, yeah.”
you awkwardly turned your attention to the menu as you did that thing where you hold it and pretend to look over the menu as you order like you forgot or something, “the duck confit sounds good for tonight, i think,”
douxie snorted.
“no, no, that wasn’t a joke,” you shook your head, smiling fondly, “i actually just like duck, i promise. no sarcasm. i do understand the irony though. i get it.”
he didn’t completely believe you, “well then, one order of duck confit, coming right up. be back shortly, love.”
doux grabbed the breadbasket on his way out.
when he glanced back to throw you a short and unnoticeable but longing stare, as he paused in the kitchen doorway, you were fidgeting with the flowers on the table. he should get that order in now.
-
when your waiter came back with food, he placed two plates down on the table. you looked at him like he had suddenly grown a second head as he took the other seat as well.
“what are you—“
“i called in a favor with the owner. i’m still working but, i’ve got a bit of free time now. if you don’t mind me joining you,”
you shook your head in astonishment.
“not at all,” you smiled, still absolutely flabbergasted that this man would do something like this for you, “you’re douxie, right? zoe’s mentioned you a lot.”
“oH—,” he coughed, “oh, uh, she has?“
“yeah,”
he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “only good things, i pray?”
“oh, sure. sure. good things,” you took a demure little sip of your glass to torture him with the pause implying the contrary.
he swallowed audibly. nervous, then. what dirt did zoe have on him. you watched as he awkwardly shoved up the sleeves of his shirt, perhaps feeling a bit warm now. it was cute.
you’d be sure to ask zoe all about him later. how could you not. this was the most interesting thing to happen all year. and it’s december.
you racked your brain for what you knew of this guy for conversation topics.
“you’re in zoe’s band, right? the lead guitarist.”
his face lit up at the mention of it, “oh, yes. you’ve seen us?”
“once or twice, i believe.”
it wasn’t really your thing, live music. you mostly hung around the back of the bar when you got dragged to shows. you liked loud, sometimes. just not often. it really depended on how your brain was feeling that day.
“well, you’ve gotta come to the next gig, then, at least. i’m sure zoe’s already invited you?” you nodded. “the venue’s holding a wee little music festival, it’s going to be nuclear,”
“ah, that’s fun,” you smiled. that sounded like hell but now that two very enthusiastic wizards have invited you, you don’t have the heart to weasel your way out of it. you’ll bring the “XTREME” ear plugs.
“but yeah, the bands great. i love that i get to play with my mates now. a team that works as well together as we do is rare, so i really appreciate them.”
“speaking of,”
doux hummed inquisitively.
“what’s going on with zoe and that new girly y’all’ve got on the drums?”
“oh,” he paused to take a sip, narrowing his eyes mischievously, “they’re boning.”
you clasped your hands together excitedly, “thank you! you’ve just won me a betting pool.”
he almost had to spit the wine back into his glass,“hhhh. how many?”
“oh, just the entirety of the hex tech arcadia staff.”
“i’m not sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”
“which is why you won’t tell her, mr. casperan,” you placed your hand over his with a cheshire cat grin.
well, he couldn’t argue with that.
dinner progressed. alas, you can’t say you lingered as long as you wanted to on conversation. you were kinda rushing things because you felt a little guilty doux was getting someone to cover for him while you had your little date. was this a date. it had to be. as mentioned, he’s going out of his way for this, and you can’t imagine he’d go through all this trouble because he wasn’t interested in you. but then again, you couldn’t believe he was interested in you either.
“do you like cryptozoology?” douxie tried his best to ask nonchalantly while he scratched the bridge of his nose to look a little less interested. he was feeling a bit energized since talking about the band. you had been paying attention to him like he’d been paying attention to you, if only in passing.
“a tad more than the average californian wizard, why?”
“well, later this weekend, i’ve got a job exterminating a goblin infestation in the next town over,”
“snelling?”
“yeah, snelling. the guy i was partnering with told me he was backing out this morning, so now i’ll be going it alone. and im sure you know how fighting goblins alone usually goes.”
“makes it easier for them to gang up on you, yes.”
“see, that’s why i’m asking if you’d be interesting in taking his place?”
“well, i’ve got the weekend off and nothing to do,” he knew that, he got the hex tech schedule from zoe every week(to know how to schedule band practice. and, if he also took a peak at your schedule, it was purely accidental. yeah.), “so, i don’t see why not.”
doux grinned, both relieved he wouldn’t be fighting goblins alone, and feeling clever that he found an excuse to spend more time with you, “perfect, i’ll text you the details? but, oh, i don’t have your number do i?”
you were about to ask why he couldn’t just tell you in person right now, but he said that soo hammy. it took .01 seconds to understand what he was doing. you snorted.
“okay, okay, here,” you held out your hand and he gladly placed his unlocked phone in your hand. you made the contact and sent yourself a text of the first emoji he had in his recents, which happened to be🫀. ah, a goth romantic. you gave him back his phone.
“perfect. thank you, love.” he tucked the phone into his chest dramatically before placing in back into his pocket.
you rolled your eyes fondly, “you know, goblin smashing isn’t exactly my idea of the perfect second date, you might have to turn up the charm.”
“oh, i’m sure i’ll make it worth your while,” he let his head fall into his palm propped up on the table, gaze going soft, “so was this a perfect first date, then?”
you laughed, “hardly. all things considered. but—“
“but?”
“but i’m glad it happened this way. i’ve had a good time, mr. casperan.”
he grinned in agreement, “me too.”
you put your hand on top of the one he left resting on the table, and he took the opportunity to take that hand and gently lay a kiss to the top of your knuckles. he lingered for a moment, eyes shut tight to take in the tenderness of the moment.
alas, he has to go back to work now.
doux pulled out your chair and helped you to your feet. you thanked him as he started stacking the dishes.
“should i—?”
“no, god no,” he chuffed, “i’m the waiter, remember? i work here.”
“oh yeah.”
that reminded you. you shuffled for your wallet, but he stopped you.
“i’m paying for dinner, love. go enjoy the rest of your evening, i’ll text you after i close.”
“you sure?” it didn’t really sit right with you, considering he probably took a pay cut by not working the whole time you were on this little “date.”
“well,” he paused, and placed the dishes back onto the table for time being, “you could leave me a tip, if you know what i mean. just a teeny thing—“
“c’mere,” you snickered as you pulled him down by the lapels to kiss him.
chaste, just a peck. but perfect and sweet all the same.
when you pulled back, you watched as douxie held his eyes closed for just a moment longer than he need to before letting that blinding all encompassing smile bloom across his face.
“well then, a very goodnight to you, y/n l/n.”
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wheezyseeker99 · 3 months ago
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So it goes, gorgeous
Warnings: teasing (and a little bit of angsty Cam), swearing, alcohol consumption ((I need to stop writing in drinking, I know)), thigh riding, oral (male receiving and slight female receiving), penetration (fm), and multiple orgasms
18+, MDNI
Summary: There’s a party at Cam’s place and fmc hates him, but she definitely loves him by the end of the night. Frenemies to lovers, but conflicting feelings win 🫶🏻 also thank Taylor again for making reputation album.
And happy girlfriends day to him
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This party is getting far too out of hand. My friend Joel is dancing on top of a table shirtless, Tyson did a body shot off of Katie just now, and Jamie is trying to hide awkwardly in the corner. My head is spinning as I look around the nearly dark room.
Being friends with hockey players is weird. In the off season it’s even weirder. I spot Cam across the room, finishing up a round of beer pong with Ryan.
Cam’s place is nice, but everyone is drunk and making the main rooms of the house outrageously messy. Being over there with him seems like the safest place to be in this room honestly. Even though I barely tolerate his presence sober, Cam is the least drunk person in this room besides Jamie.
I make my way over to Cam and lean my back against the wall. He looks good like this. His hat is off, his shirt is partially unbuttoned where I can see the chain against his chest, and his shorts are showing off his muscular thighs. The thigh tattoos peaking out set my thoughts on fire. It makes me so frustrated how hot he is. How cocky he is. Most of the time his ego is double the size of Texas. Looking at his face this close, I’m furious that he makes me feel this way.
“Look who it is,” Cam sneers. “The queen has arrived in our presence.”
I roll my eyes and motion towards the table, “I want to play you next. Bet I can win, mister California.”
I cringe at the way I mildly slurred my speech. I probably shouldn’t do beer pong, especially because I dislike beer to the highest extent, but I want to prove to him that he can’t win everything. His ocean blue eyes bore a hole into me.
“Yeah, baby? Think you can ruin me?”
I walk over to Ryan and take the ping pong ball cup from him. Ryan walks over to Joel to try to get him off the table and I look back to Cam.
“I know I can ruin you.”
“Sweetheart, you only ruin my life by not being mine.”
I hate how my body shuddered at the thought. I hate how cool he thinks he is, but he’s also so damn gorgeous that it physically hurts. There’s going to be consequences of being in his strong magnetic field, but I’m not really caring about it now. The alcohol racing through my body is giving me a load of confidence.
“Sad existence for you then,” I smirk and toss the first ball into one of his cups.
His smirk falters but doesn’t disappear. He eyes me for a second, taking in my form. It’s like I distracted him. He tosses a ball and misses.
“Aw poor baby Cammy missed on his first try,” I mocked. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.”
I walked to his side of the table and grabbed a ball, placing it in his hand. I put my hand over his and tossed it at one of my cups, sinking it into one on the left side. I tossed back the cup and chugged the beer even though it tasted disgusting. I sat the cup down and smirked at him again.
“That’s how it’s done, pretty boy.”
I could feel eyes on us, but nobody interrupted the scene that was playing out. Cam definitely didn’t like the way I’m trying to embarrass him in front of his teammates.
“Fuck the chirping,” Cam grits out. “You and I are going to go have a chat.”
He stalks over to me and takes me by the arm. I barely knew what was going on as he dragged me up the stairs to his room. The door slams behind me and he looks at me with a fiery expression. I think I might drown and die, or even burst into flames, by how Cam is looking at me. I back myself against the door to put space between us. I’m a hostage to not only him, but to my feelings now. He runs his fingers through his hair, making it look sexily messy.
“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”
I could feel my insides clench at his low tone. I try to hide the fact that my confidence died out. I kept my head up instead of giving into my natural urge to look down.
“It’s funny that you don’t know how to lose. Beer pong of all things makes you snap? That’s what’s funny.”
“Bullshit. You wanted to rile me up,” he states and steps forward. I press my back further against the door. I feel the heat radiating off his body. His expression changes. Instead of looking angry he looks like a hurt puppy.
“Tell me why you hate me so much.”
I feel the urge to lift a hand to his face, and before I realize it, I am. I cup his face and look into his eyes. I dropped my hand after a second when I caught onto what my body was doing. He got me alone, and now everything feels like it’s so simple when it shouldn’t be. Like the pieces all fell into place.
I should hate him, but I’m starting to understand that I don’t. I’m just too attracted to him, and I hated that I didn’t think I could have him. I’m caught up in him now. Completely consumed by his presence.
“I don’t hate you,” I breathe. “I really feel the opposite of hate. I promise.”
I’m waiting for him to reply when I feel his hands come to cup my cheeks. The connection of our eyes makes me want more.
”I’ll be honest, baby. You did a number on me.” I gave him a questionable look and he continues, “I thought I could stop it. I’m usually chill, but you make me jealous. Furious. Turned on. All the fucking feelings.”
He grabs my hand and brings it to his chest. I can feel his heart beating fast under my palm.
“You’ve got my heart if you want it, or we can forget this happened. It’s up to you.”
I’m shocked to say the least. He wants me? I’m getting caught up in the moment, and then I snap out of it.
I stand on my toes and connect my lips to his. The kiss is demanding and warm. My arms wrap around his neck, my chest pressed against his. I can’t ignore how the little scar on his upper lip feels against me. He doesn’t pull his mouth away from mine. He keeps going, tangling his hand into my hair to keep my mouth against his. I can taste the alcohol on his lips and it only makes me feel more intoxicated. When I pull my mouth away I whisper, “I’m yours to keep.”
Cam smiles down at me, taking in the moment. I take in his face. The little freckles that are placed everywhere on his skin. The way his lips are redder now that my lipstick transferred to them. His eyes are brighter now even though this room is darker than downstairs, and they crinkle in the corners when he smiles. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest, matching his.
“Yeah?”
I nod and push my back off the door, taking Cam with me to the edge of his bed. He sits and pulls me to straddle his lap as I connect our lips together again. I moan into his mouth when I feel his bulge against my core.
I move so I’m straddling one of his thighs, grinding down against it as I start to unbutton his shirt. My hands press against his bare chest once I have it exposed to me. I disconnect our lips to pull the shirt off of him completely and kiss his jaw down his neck, biting at his collarbone.
“Baby,” Cam moans. “Yeah ride my thigh like that.”
I rut faster against him, scratching my nails down his back in the process. My clit is pulsing against my panties and I feel the wetness pooling inside them. I’ll probably have to throw them out after this. I bring my lips back to his and whimper at the contact. His hand tugs my head back, biting at my throat. Cam groans against my skin and he bucks his hips up to feel more friction. His hand comes down on my ass twice and I moan at the contact.
“So greedy. Making a mess on my thigh,” he bites out against my skin. His hand comes to my face, squeezing my cheeks together when I tried to turn my head away. “Look at me when you cum.”
My eyes meet his. I feel the pressure rising inside me. I rake a hand through his hair, holding on as a I reach my orgasm. I breath hard and I stare into his eyes until mine fall closed.
Gaining my composure, I slide to the floor on my knees in front of him. Cam’s hands stop mine from reaching the waistband of his shorts.
“You don’t have to, baby girl.”
I stay silent for a split second and quirk an eyebrow before continuing the path I set with my hands. I rub my palms against his muscular thighs, kissing each one of them as I gaze up at him. I can see the places my lips have been, all over his skin. My eyes reach the bulge in his shorts and tilt my head.
“You don’t think I want to take it?”
“When you look at me like that, I don’t know what to think,” he breathes.
“Then let me have the lead until you find your brain again,” I say and hook my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and underwear. Cam lifts his hips and I remove the clothing from his body. His length stands against his toned stomach. I took his shaft into my hand and smirked to myself when I hear a gasp leave his lips. I spread the precum from his tip all along his thick shaft and I look up at him expectantly as I pump him. He bites his bottom lip harshly to hold back his moans.
“Take off your dress. Don’t want it to be ruined by the time I’m done with you.”
I obeyed and took off my dress, tossing it to the floor, leaving me in just my panties. Cam eyed my breasts, but let me take his cock back into my hands without hesitating.
Cam’s hands clawed at the bedsheets when I took him into my mouth. I dragged my tongue up the side of his length before licking the tip. I suck him slow and he makes husky noises of approval from above me.
Cam lets out a strangled moan when he grabbed the back of my head to take more of him. I let him guide my mouth on him. I wanted him to use me like this. He fucked into my mouth, taking what he needed.
“Just like that. Taking me so good,” Cam groans out. “Not such a bratty bad girl when you have your mouth full.”
I have spit running down my chin as I take him deeper. I nearly gag but I force myself not to.
“Fuck, I can’t cum like this. Not the first time. Get up here baby.”
Cam takes his cock out of my mouth before grabbing my hands. He brings me to my feet just to force me down on his bed. My panties are ripped from my body while he’s looking me in the eye. He rubs my pussy, feeling the wetness and I laid my head back against the pillows.
“So gorgeous. Ready for me baby?”
I nod and whine, “yes.”
Cam rolls on a condom and spreads my legs. His cock prodded my entrance, and he slides his tip against my wet folds teasingly. He takes my legs and places them over his shoulders, kissing my knees in the process.
“Gonna take my time with you later. Right now I need to fucking feel you.”
He thrusts into me, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I toss my head back and moan as his speed increases. His lips come to my chest. He places kisses around my breasts before taking my nipple into his mouth. His hips snap into me. The only sounds in the room are our bodies meeting in every thrust and our moans.
“Please,” I cry out. “Use me Cam, please.”
“You want to be used?”
I hum in response. I need him to wreck me inside and out, but I won’t boost his ego more just yet. He thrusts into me harder. The expression on his face is determined, like he knows what I want without speaking it into existence.
“You want me to get off inside this gorgeous pussy?”
I nod and I feel the climax rise inside of me. Pleasure explodes through me. He nuzzles his face into my neck as his thrusts stutter. I scream out his name while my hips move up into him, taking what I can through my orgasm.
“Keep saying my name. Want everyone downstairs to know who’s making you feel like this.”
I moan his name again as I ride out my orgasm. I see stars, but he keeps moving into me. My legs are shaking and I’m gasping for air, feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
“Gonna cum baby,” he murmurs against my skin. He erupts while claiming my lips and I savor the taste of him. His hips falter when he cums, and he pulls out not long after to discard the condom. He kneels down in between my spread legs, placing a kiss on my clit. I moaned and squirmed as he licked me slowly.
“I can’t. Too sensitive Cam,” I grab onto his head and pull his face to mine. I kissed him like my life depended on it. My mind and body are so overwhelmed, but when I look at him, when I taste him, just want more. He pulled away and moved the hair away from my face.
“There’s nothing I hated more than what I couldn’t have,” he says before pecking my lips softly, “but now I have it. I have you.”
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the-90s-music-colosseum · 11 months ago
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Quarterfinals, Match 1
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expand to see all propaganda received! (huge wall of text warning)
Selena:
"truly probably one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked this earth. voice of an angel, dazzling smile, looks like she smells good"
"if u don't vote selena ur mexicanphobic /j"
Chris Cornell:
"The word "ethereal" was invented to describe Chris"
"His tiddies."
"Chris is the most attractive person in history."
"looks california"
"IF U DONT VOTE CHRIS J WILL LITERALLY CRY"
"Picture this - Audioslave is headlining a festival in Bologna, but rain threatens. Thunder rumbles. Wind is picking up. Chris Cornell opens his shirt - and the hand of the weather gods is stayed for the rest of the show. Three minutes after the last encore, rain comes pouring down. Chris Cornell's chiseled abs fought off the rain for a full 90 minutes. Godly behavior. Plus he sang the beginning of "I am the highway" alone on guitar before the band joined in. What a show. Say hello to heaven, Chris."
"I want to cook the skrunkly alive"
"i want to rip the flesh off his tits with my bare teeth cjdkdjdjwsln i am way too in love with him for my own good i want to suck out all of his blood like a vampire but just for him (i have a massive fear of blood) i have probably like over 500 photos of him shirtless on my phone i NEED to squeeze and bite on his arms until his blood vessels pop i want to (almost) drown him in honey and sugar and eat every square inch of his body i want to rip out his voice box and vocal chords and keep them in a jar in the back of my closet if he doesn’t win i WILL disintegrate into thin air i will simply cease to exist i am already planning to get his signature tattooed on my arm this man is the second coming (HA) of jesus christ he’s not just the most attractive 90’s man he’s the most attractive person to ever exist (this definitely did not take an absurdly long amount of time to write what are you talking about??) (please send help)"
"I think Eddie & Stone themselves put it best when they said: Eddie - If he is the devil, I have to say the devil’s a beautiful person! Stone - he’s got a nice chest too…Jesus…"
"One of the humblest, most caring and creative man I've ever seen. I'd give him my last reserve of food, my car, my house if he needed. I'd go to the moon and back if he'd ask. Just one look into his beautiful blue eyes make you feel at peace."
"I mean, just LOOK at him! He’s so beautiful it makes me weep. AND he was incredibly talented musically and lyrically. His lyrics paired with that unique beautiful soulful voice of his feels like he’s stirring my soul around with his bare hands. I love him forever <3"
"hes like jesus to me. cant sleep if i dont think about him before bed. i even built a lil shrine for him uwu"
"i wanna suck on every inch of him. by the time im done itll be like an octopus attacked him"
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fullofgutsndopamine · 2 months ago
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climbing towards the sun (you fill my lungs)
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or: the wedding singer au
TW/ drinking (to excess), cursing, corny, ambiguous ending (but happy ending), hasan is in a band, banter, talk of drinking (liquid confidence), hasan is an idiot
more hasan here
requests open
“and that was hips don’t lie, which is, oddly enough, the grooms favorite song.”
a single cheer is heard in the back. the groom, drunk, holds up a half empty beer bottle that sloshes over the side onto his stained tuxedo.
“that was a joke,” the singer continues, “for the other half of you.”
even far away, with the lights that are half off (and at this point, you doubt its ambience and more the shoddy electric bill wasn’t paid at this place) as the chandelier swings: left, right, left, right-a hail mary it doesn’t fall on anyone and this isn’t known as a wedding and a funeral- it’s easy to see him.
the singer looks nervous. holds onto the microphone stand with shaky hands stained yellow from nicotine you can see halfway across the floor. the stand is an obvious life boat for him; leaves sweaty handprints on it after his hand is moved (how his hands keep going to his eyes, as if he’s pushing an imaginary pair of glasses up his face, even though he wears none currently)
“anyways uh-“ his eyes dart around, like he’s waiting for something to take him out, “this will be our last song before the food-“
more cheers. more than he’s gotten the entire set erupts.
“Anyways, this is my favorite song so-enjoy.” he takes a step back from the microphone, strums, steps back: “or not.”
no one’s on the dance floor. people linger on the outskirts of it, like they’re waiting to be pushed in, a drunken bet, but no one takes the plunge.
“jesus.” you snort across the floor. Annie, your best friend is at your elbow, “at this point we should just pull the plug. this has to be abuse at this point.”
annie snorts over the rim of her cup: “i don’t know,” she shrugs, her finger traces over the rim of a lipstick stained cup, “i think it’s kind of cute, how nervous he is.”
you fake gag, an eye roll: “it was cute for maybe the first song. And then he fucked up the words to California Girls and frankly, i can’t forgive that.”
“Oh please,” Annie snorts, “this is like your fourth grade recital-“
“one, two-“
the drums hit immediately after and he begins, his lips pressed hard against the microphone, eyes shut in an attempt to forget this place:
“wouldn’t it be nice if we were older-“
“shut the fuck up,” you gasp, “did you tell him to play this?!”
“it’s a wedding,” she rolls her eyes, “he was like, contractually obligated to play this at some point-“
“hold my drink.”
“No!” annie protests, looks at the empty floor, “we can’t do-“
you don’t listen. instead, the cup is pushed into her chest and the dress is held up in your fist, a hand raised above your head as you ignore a vacant floor.
“Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray-“
finally nearing the end of the song, the end of this nightmare, where he can leave, he pops open one eye. he’s grateful he went without his glasses; seeing the world fuzzy and blurry around the edges makes it harder to make people out, don’t really exist to him
except for a second. one person exists. middle of the dance floor, not caring how empty it is-
suddenly, he’s not rushing through the words. they have to be perfect, have to be right, just for-
the song ends too quick. the bride comes on stage. a hand on hasan’s shoulder as she thanks them, slurring, half heartedly-hasan doesn’t care, has to get off the stage-
“Will.”
he jumps. his bow tie is undone around his neck and his hair is sweaty as it stands up in the back:
“dude-“ will begins but hasan cuts him off, his hand still on his shoulder-
“the person on the floor. during the last song?” he drops his voice, licks his lips, “were they hot? do i have a chance?”
he rolls his eyes: “isn’t the first rule of being a wedding singer to not fall for wedding guests?”
“it’s a yes or no, dick.”
will fumbles with his blazer, pulls hasans pair of glasses out from the breast pocket:
“go get them.”
the only good part of being a wedding singer is the free alcohol. after two shots the world spins loosely but he feels semi confident, plays with the sides of his glasses in his hand as he, half blind, tries to find the only face he wants in the crowd.
you aren’t hard to spot, to your own credit. the bridesmaids dresses are a sin, some tacky orange color that couldn’t be saved no matter what, and your hair, frizzy from dancing and the humidity of bodies around you doesn’t help.
hasan takes the final gulp of liquid confidence and, hands still nervously on his glasses, too afraid to shove them on his face, makes his way to you before he does something dumb, like come to his senses
“No,” Annie argues with you, “because having a Pitbull song would be dumb-“
“excuse you,” you snort, “that’s mister worldwide, to you-“
“oh fuck off-“
“hey.”
hasan gets the word out before he can stop himself. wishes he came up with something smarter, something that would make him stand out to you as much as you did to him-
“hey,” he tries again, “figured i’d meet my number one fan.”
you laugh and hasan has to stop himself from thinking how he’d never get sick of hearing that for the rest of his life-
this close, it’s easier to see him. see past the nicotine stained skin and the nervous ticks-replaced by a constellation of freckles you want to memorize, a mop of unruly curly hair
you hope your voice doesn’t come out as nervous as it feels.
“it was sad to see you crashing and burning out there, is all.”
he snorts: “and you waited until the last song to save me?”
“i was going to sooner but you fucked up California Girls and i don’t think i can forgive you for that.”
“yeah?” he giggles, a step closer to you and you can practically feel his body heat on you: “well, i think i can make up for that.”
“is it a public apology?”
“i was thinking more like a dance,” he says, “and an encore of your song.”
his hands still play with his glasses and even though it feels more vulnerable than you’d like, seeing him like this, so nervous, you’re ready for his before you can stop yourself.
“here.”
you open the glasses up, watch as his shoulders slump in an effort to not tower over you, letting you push the oversized glasses up his face.
you give him a second to adjust. pushes his glasses further up his face, looks up-
“better?”
you’re more beautiful than he thought. far out of his league, more scary without the blur around the edges-
“much.” he says, “so that dance?”
his hand wraps around yours before you can even get the yes out.
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try-set-me-on-fire · 5 days ago
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I was tagged by @iinryer and @eddiebabygirldiaz for fuck it Friday yesterday, and Saturday can be Friday if you want I think, and Kaitlin shared Eddie seeing ghosts so sticking with the theme: here’s the start of witch Eddie! Which is actually the third part of werewolf buck and Bobby and the devil… it’s Halloween season babyyyy
Since I’m a day late in place of tags I’m just going to ask you, dear reader, to share your spooky season wips or favorite fics or headcannons or etc etc if you want! I’d love to hear about them!
The thing about it all is that Eddie’s never been particularly good at being a witch. There are fundamental skill sets you need to deal with magic, and he’s always been lacking in all of them. When he was seven — sometimes too young for the magic to show up, but definitely an Age — his favorite game to play pretend was baseball. He’d stand in the backyard and throw empty pitches from imaginary gloves, run around bases that didn’t exist. It had made Ramon laugh — hot pride in Eddie’s stomach, twisting around with its rarity — and call out “I can take you to the ballpark, Edmundo, there’s no need to Imagine this.” Abuela had shushed him, though there was something a little worried about her eyes.
“Practical,” she’d called him. “A practical boy.” But years later when she’d coo-ed and awed over Adriana and Sophia and their intricate games of princesses and monsters and astronauts and deep sea diving, he’d come to understand what she probably meant — kindly, his grandmother loved him — was that he just wasn’t particularly imaginative, the word damningly and correctly uncapitalized.
Faith, he tried so hard to be good at. He knew all his prayers, said them when he woke up and before he went to bed and at dinner and all through church every Sunday. Some of his other friends, his cousins, the other little boys who fidgeted in the pews and looked longingly at the stained glass like they might be able to see the sky outside, they always complained about being dragged to church. Eddie never minded, though. He liked when they all got to sing, he liked that everyone he knew was there, he liked that he knew all the words. A part of something. He liked to be a part of something. But then his abuelo had died, and abuela was going to move out to California to live near her daughter there, and he’d really thought about God for the first time. “He’s a mean man,” he’d cried to mother, “He’s too mean, why did He do this? Why does He take things away? It’s not right. If I was God-” and he’d been smacked before he could finish the blasphemy, but there it was.
Abuela had come to him later, banished to his room. “Faith is a practice, mijito.” Her eyes were so sad, now. “If you cannot believe the big things, how will you Believe the small ones?” She’d sighed, and kissed his forehead. “Even when it’s difficult, even when it’s trouble. Promise me you’ll try.”
“I promise,” he’d said, curled up against her, meaning it with all his heart, but the next day she’d got on a plane and that Sunday he’d stared at the stained glass, wiggled in his pew.
Wanting. What do you want Edmundo. What do you want, Eddie. Seventeen years old and abuela had lived in California for more of his life than she’d lived in Texas, and he’s been the Man of the House since not long after, and he gets up at five to got to practice before school and he drives his sisters to ballet and gymnastics afterwards, and he works at the grocery store over on Third Street in the evenings and on weekends whenever he’s not at baseball practice again. He doesn’t know when he’s supposed to find time for wanting, for Wanting. He’s pretty good at baseball, but not good enough, he’s never going to make it anywhere. He doesn’t mind the store, but making $5.25 an hour to mop floors and let blonde women with expired coupons yell at him for the rest of his life fills him with just slightly more dread than when Ramon takes him around the oil company offices, talks to him about business school. What do you dream, Eddie? Nothing in particular. What do you want, Eddie? Something other than this.
He meets Shannon in class or by a lake, he's not sure which he should count. The lake is the first time they talked, the first time he saw her freckled shoulders and heard her hoarse laugh and thought he wanted to get to know her better. He wants to kiss her. He kissed Marnie Phillips at homecoming last year, and it was fine, kind of wet. Shannon’s lips are always dry even though she has a graveyard of chapsticks at the bottom of her backpack. She smiled at him when he brought her a new tube from the grocery store, cherry flavored. When he tells Ramon he’s going to ask her out when they see each other in 3rd period English, Ramon looks over his glasses at Eddie, eyes stern.
“Be careful, Eddie. Young love can be intense. You have to keep yourself under control. You cannot Want this girl to like you.”
“Am I supposed to want things or not?” Eddie had snapped — cheeks red at the word love when really all he was thinking about was maybe making out at the movies — because of course he wouldn’t, using magic to make someone do something they don’t want to do is horrible, and he thought he was doing pretty okay winning Shannon over the old fashioned way. He was grounded for his trouble, but Shannon had laughed when he told her about it, and agreed to go out with him once his punishment had lifted.
Shannon wanted easily. She was on the school newspaper, she wanted to study journalism, she took the bus to Austin one weekend to talk to the professors at UT, see what their school paper was like. She had an after school job at the movie theater, and saved most of every paycheck and talked about how she’d decorate her apartment when she moved for school. She wanted to tell stories that were important, she wanted to change the world. Eddie only wanted as much time with her as he could get before she left to live a bigger life than he could ever picture, but then there were two little lines on a white stick, and the two- the three of them forever, and all he wanted was to get away.
And even if he’d had a better Imagination, even if he had stronger Belief, even if he knew how to Want without ruining everything, the last thing — Intention — would always trip him up anyway. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Abuela had done it so easily, Believing so strongly that what she Wanted was true that the whole world twisted itself around until it became so. But Eddie always thought that the last step — Intending the change to happen — was more or less admitting the thing you Believed wasn’t true, and his magic would always fall apart at the finish line. He got a little better at it in the army, because working with his hands made a little more sense to him. Packing gauze was a physical action he was taking to tend to a wound, something he was actually doing to help all the Wanting and Belief along. People under his care healed a little faster maybe, got less infections maybe. He was never entirely sure what was him, what was magic, what was luck. He was untalented (unTalented). Whatever. He could do his best anyway. He’d decided to stop thinking about it so much.
And hadn’t the universe had a big old laugh about that one?
Now, Eddie stands in his kitchen, and what he wants — damn the capital letter — is for Buck to pick up the fucking phone.
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wenumsmol · 2 years ago
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Eijirou Overheard
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Prompt I used from @strawberrystepmom: which of ur favs hears you lamenting the fact u have to exist in this body from your closet and peeks around the corner and just says "get on the bed"
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Warnings/Tags: smut, aged-up characters, vaginal sex, body worship, breath play, orgasm denial, eye contact, praise, pet names, mirror sex, sex toys, fingering, squirting, creampie, breeding, soft dom, pussy smacking, emotional sex, size difference, dry humping, self-esteem issues, comfort smut.
5k+ wc o.o
Minors Do NOT Interact, Smut under the cut.
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🪨 Kirishima, Eijirou🪨
 Standing in front of the mirror wearing nothing but your panties and one of Eijirou’s baggy t-shirts —which fits you more like a dress— you're scrutinizing your reflection. Feeling as unattractive as ever, you stare at the pudge of your tummy in your hands and the thickness of your thighs that had no gap. Doubt begins to flood your mind, and you struggle to fight back tears, “how could anyone love me like this?” you mutter to yourself in the walk-in-closet. Hopelessly, taking in the sight of your body, you can't help but think that Ejirou deserves someone better because you feel like you aren’t good enough for him. And the mere thought of it just makes you want to curl up in a ball and hide away from the world. “This is really the body I have to exist in? What a joke.” Squeezing your eyes shut, “There’s no way he looks at me every day and doesn’t feel grossed out. How the fuck am I supposed to live with myself?” you sputter, tears roll freely down your cheeks, and you wipe them away with your sleeve.
 Eijirou is reclined against the headboard of your California king bed, in the primary bedroom, just outside. He’s mindlessly scrolling through his phone when he hears muffled whispers coming from the closet. His brow furrows as he recognizes your voice, and he can’t help but feel a pang of sadness as he listens to you berate yourself. Hearing you tear apart your appearance, and assuming that he finds you repulsive… Eijirou can’t bear the thought of you believing that. 
Immediately, he gets up, disregarding his phone, which clatters to the floor. He approaches the open doorway, watching you from the outside. Listening. The distressed look on his often upbeat and bright-eyed face catches you off guard when you notice his hulking figure staring at your back in the mirror reflection, causing you to grow quiet. Eijirou’s head is cocked, and his fists are clenching and unclenching the material of his red sweatpants. Frustrated and desperate. His eyebrows are furrowed, with a deep crease growing between them, and his lips are pressed together in a line. “Y/n,” he spoke in a low voice, almost inaudible. “What on earth are you doing, baby?”
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 You anxiously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, averting your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. You hadn't anticipated him to coming in or hearing your outbursts. You were too caught up in your own bullshit to even consider the fact that you might have been a bit loud. Eijirou’s hearing was on another level, after all. Mouth dry. Feeling the weight of the tension between you two, you try to explain the situation. You want to make it clear that you weren't in here having a pity party and feeling sorry for yourself, “um… well you know… I just—” but that would have been a lie. How do you tell him that you’re afraid to lose him because you couldn’t be at your best? That this version of you isn’t the same girl he fell in love with, and you know he’ll eventually leave you because of it? “I-I don’t know,” you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. He shakes his head, his expression softening. “I just want to understand,” he says, in a soothing tone. You take a deep breath, and you’re at a loss for words. “Eiji, I’m sorry, I don’t–-”
"C'mere, sweetie," he calls out to you, and you reluctantly take a step forward, heart beating faster with every step. He looks you in the eyes with a stern expression, in disbelief that you would think he wouldn't love you as you are, no matter how much you change. Eijirou takes your hand and draws you in as his chest tightens and his throat constricts. Hugging you close, you are enveloped in the warmth of his touch, filling the air around you with the scent of his cologne. There’s a sense of security in the embrace.
Eijirou takes your face in his hands and looks into your eyes, while his own are filled with emotion. The doubt and fear are evident in your eyes, and he wants to take it all away. Speaking softly, his voice is full of love and understanding, “please, don’t do this to yourself.” He tells you that he loves you just as you are, and he always will. Pulling you into a hug, Eijirou holds you tightly, his heart beating in time with yours. Wanting you to know that you are perfect, just the way you are, “I wouldn’t change a single fucking thing about you. You should know that by now,” he breathed into your skin. Soft lips graze the lobe of your ear, he plants a gentle kiss to your neck just below it. “What’s got you feeling this way? What can I do to make it better? Am I not praising you enough? What do you need?” The questions just kept coming, and he exhales heavily, voice trembling as he tries to reel himself back, so he doesn’t overwhelm you. Eijirou’s grasp tightens a bit as he shakes his head, feeling responsible, “I just love you, okay.”
Still wrapped up in Eijirou’s hold, he nuzzles you, continuing to trail kisses down your collarbone. “You know how gorgeous you are? Hmn?” 
“Eiji, don’t–” tears prick at the corners of your eyes again. “You don’t have to lie to me. And it’s not you or anything you’re doing. I just look a mess, and I know you probably want something else. Someone else.”
He draws back, grabbing your waist with both hands as he looks down into your eyes, gaze piercing. He tenderly brushes away the tears that have started to fall, “You're so beautiful, my love. Don’t ever forget that.” He presses his forehead to yours, letting you feel the love he has for you, letting it wrap around you like a warm blanket. His hands cup your face, and he looks into your eyes, “I will never let you forget.” Eijirou takes your hand in his, pulling you with him, and leading you over to the spacious mattress. “Eiji…?”
“Get on the bed,” he calmly commands, walking away to the opposite side of the room and returning with a heavy mirror, which he sets down against the wall across from the bed. “I don’t want to hear any more of that self loathing” he says, reaching over to you, lifting you up and letting you straddle in his lap facing away from him. Eijirou gestures toward your reflection, “look at yourself, sweet pea.” He continues, “you see this beautiful face?” He lightly runs his fingers over your puffy cheeks. “It’s the first face I want to see when I wake up every morning.” Pressing a kiss to your jawline, “did you know that?” he wonders. “And these lips,” tracing the pads of his fingers over the pillow softness of them then bending your face in the direction of his,“ are the only ones I want to kiss. Ever...” he claims.
Eijirou kisses you softly and delicately, gliding his moist, adoring lips over yours. His lips caress yours while his hands cup your face, cradling you in his warmth as he explores your mouth. After a quick tug of his teeth, he deepens the kiss by sliding his tongue across the floor of your mouth, begging for entry. You part your lips at his request, and his wet muscle prods and dances with your own. You feel a spark of electricity course through your body, heart beginning to race as the exchange intensifies. Arms drawing you closer, pressing your body against his as his mouth moves hungrily against yours. You can feel the passion between you, the love and longing that radiates from him as he kisses you…
Breaking off with labored panting and a stand of spit tying you together, "Just you," he breathes, momentarily makes eye contact with you again before turning your head back to the mirror. Eijirou’s large hands snake under the thin fabric of the t-shirt and settle on your full breast, “this body.” He massages your breasts, forcing your nipples to stiffen while he showers your neck possessively with open-mouth kisses, marking your skin. Tingling sensations shoot from your chest and down to your core, and you toss your head back, whimpering at the sensation. “How could I not love you, especially when I get to see you like this?” He questions, flicking his tongue over your jaw. “Who wouldn’t be turned on—” he teases your nipple with more force— “by you?” he continued as your breath caught, and a light tremor coursed through your body.
Through the fabric of his sweatpants and your damp panties, you can feel the throb of his strong cock as one of his hands descends from your breast to grip your hip. Driving you deeper into his lap, Eijirou helps you rock your hips back and forth, dragging your sopping pussy along his erection. “Nngh, you feel that?” groans Eijirou. “Look up for me, sweet cheeks,” he whispered breathlessly, nipping your lobe. Distracted by the intensity of the situation, you continued to moan, completely consumed by the friction against your lower lips. When suddenly, a sharp smack to your clothed clit startles you out of the moment, a faint squeak leaving your mouth. You look up at Eijirou through the mirror with a bewildered expression on your face.
“I need you to pay attention, princess. I know all this feels real fuckin’ good—” he smirks, sharp teeth peeking out— “and I want you to feel good, but I also want you to understand exactly why you deserve it,” Eiji explains.
“Now—” fingertips skimming over your clit to ease the sting that left it throbbing just seconds ago— “tell me how pretty you are. I wanna hear it.”
Your brow furrows at the assumed request, “Eijirou, I don’t think—” “Shh… Shh… Look at me, sweetie. Hey–” he interrupts, turning your head to face him again. He raises his eyebrows, a hint of frustration in his voice, “you know what you're supposed to say” he said. Chuckling dryly, there was an incredulous look on his face. With a tsk, he cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face. "Wanna try that again? Hmn?" he offered, his voice low and expectant. “Because I wasn’t asking.” Eijirou’s hand is firm at the base of your neck, waiting.
You respond, "Yes… Daddy," and his demeanor softens, glowing with affection as he searches your eyes for a sign of understanding and acceptance. He then slowly releases his grip, his hands trailing down your arms and up again, a gesture of reassurance and love.
“Go on,” he said, arms encircling your waist and giving you a tight squeeze with his chin resting on your shoulder. He moves his knees side to side, which makes you sway subtly like you’re dancing.
“I— umm. I’m…p-pretty.”
“Well done, baby. And what exactly about you makes you so damn pretty? Hmm?” Eiji nuzzles your cheek supportively, a grin on his face and eyes bright.
“I’ve been… taking care of my skin a lot better lately, so there’s that, I guess that counts for something. ”
 "Oh, yeah. I've noticed," Eijirou admits, his voice a low rumble as he loosens his hold, hands trailing down your thighs before coming back up to rest on your hips. His fingers gently massage as they press into your skin, kneading the soft flesh as he gives another light squeeze. "You're so fuckin' soft, princess," he murmurs, his hands moving lower, coming to rest on your ass cheeks. He caresses the round spheres in circular motions feeling how silky your skins feels, with his calloused fingers, sending a rush of pleasure through you that makes you to gasp. "F-fuck," he breathes, his voice reacting with thick with desire, “so smooth and so fuckin’ soft.”
 Ejirou crushes his face into the skin of your neck humming deeply, grunting and sending vibrations through you, causing you to giggle a little. You can feel his open-mouthed grin against you, the response from him causing you to smile as well. “What’s so funny, munchkin? Huh?!” He starts tickling you and you’re both laughing. Your bodies jerk around as he pokes at your sides causing an eruption of laughter. Suddenly and unexpectedly, all the squirming causes his fully hard shaft, which is right beneath your sticky folds, to brush, resulting in much-needed friction. You and Eijirou moan collectively, then his tongue is back on you. His focus shifts back to your waiting heat, and he rubs tight circles on your tiny rosebud. He hums again as his other hand grips your hip, his fingers and tongue working with precision and sending jolts of pleasure through your body. 
 Eijirou’s breath is hot and heavy, and you can feel his excitement and anticipation as he builds up to the inevitable, “Wait—mmm— wait, honey.” He softly pats your pussy before stilling his movements completely. Clearing his throat, he tries to regain control of himself and says, “not yet, I wanna hear more.”
You groan in frustration, “Eeijiiii… c’mon. I can’t wait, I want you,” you whine.
“You want me, baby?” he questioned, half amused, half turned-on.
 “Yeeeah. Yes. Yes, Daddy, I want you,” you assert.
 “Oh, you’re going all in on the begging. Trying to wear me down, huh?” He chuckles. “It’s almost working,” he licks his lips, “but not quite. We still have business to take care of.”
 Folding your arms, you turn away, switching to full-on brat-mode. Eijirou just smirks in amusement, “uh uh uh, don’t start that bratty shit right now, babe. Now’s not the time,” he says vehemently as he grips the nape of your neck firmly. “I’m serious.” He looks into your eyes, his voice authoritative but soft. "I can't have you hurting yourself like you were doing earlier. That shit stops now, you understand me? Nod if you understand." And you do, your heart beating fast in anticipation. You always found it so sexy how quickly his mood can change like this. One moment Eijirou is all jokes and smiles, then the next, he’s churning your insides relentlessly, barely caring if it hurts because he promises to make it better later. Eijirou always takes care of you.
 He’s smiling now as he leans over to the bedside table, retrieving the Hitachi wand. Leaning back, the wand is plugged and set to the side. Eiji spreads his legs, in turn, spreading yours along with them. His hands remain on your hips as he speaks, his voice resuming in a low whisper in your ear. “I want you to look at yourself. Not at me. Not anywhere else. Look at yourself and see how fucking breathtaking you are,” he breathed against the back of your neck, leaving small pecks here and there as he spoke. His words are like a caress, and you can feel your body responding to his touch. “I promise to make you cum when I see that you deserve it.”
You feel the waistband of your panties being pulled taut to your skin, with a snap, sounds of ripping fill the air. Now you’re sitting in his lap naked from the waist down and when he commands, “lift your arms. C’mon, up,” you comply, allowing him to slip his oversized t-shirt from your body and toss it to the side. “There we go. Look at that Goddess,” he eagerly expresses, squeezing emphasis at your waist. In a flash, he loses his shirt too, and now you’re laying back against his chest, skin to skin.
“And look at this pretty pussy,” he points out, spreading your folds with his fingers to put you on full display. Involuntarily, your tight wet hole clenches at nothing, and he hums approval at the action. “A very pretty pussy on a very pretty girl. Don’t you agree?” He strokes your hair with the other hand while eyes rake over your body, and you feel a little self-conscious, making an effort to try and close your legs which are pinned open by his own. “Aht aht, be a good girl. Keep 'em open for me,” he warns as he strokes your inner thigh to relax you. A shiver goes through you. “Good…” he says, content with your obedience.
 Eijirou takes the Hitachi wand in hand. Without turning it on, he taps it on your clit, forcing a whimper out of you. Teasing. The hand stroking your hair moves to your jaw, “before we begin, I want you to know that I don't appreciate it when you insult my wife.” His breath fans over your skin from how close he is to your face. "You know... there are consequences for every choice, for every decision, for every word that comes out of your mouth" the hand on your jaw slips to your neck, giving it a strong squeeze before resting there— “for every action. Hmn?”
 “Yes, Daddy.” He flips the switch to high, and a frantic cry bubbles from your lips. “Goood…” he drags.
 You’ve barely been touched yet the feeling is already almost too much to handle, with the pressure in your lower abdomen quickly building. Your eyes begin to roll back, and he pulls the wand away, stifling the progression of your orgasm. “Pleeeaase, oh please! Don’t—” “Hey, now, who’s that beautiful woman I see?” he’s teases. “It’s me!” you sputter breathlessly. “I’m sorry, it’s me! Oh god, it’s me. Please!”
“Say Daddy, I’m a Goddess,” Eijirou demands, an eyebrow raised.
“Imagoddess!” you let out a little too quickly.
Another smack to your pussy, “Again. Slower this time,” he bites.
 “F-fuck! Daddy, I’m a Goddes—” buzzing breaking the ending of your sentence, the switch had been flipped, sending more vibrations through you. “I need you to believe it, baby. Talk to me, princess. Quickly or I won’t let you cum” he advises matter-of-factly, massaging up and down your dripping cunt with the toy.
 You eagerly nod, “Yes, Daddy. I'm your good girl. I'm your—” your breath catches for a moment, and you struggle to keep your eyes trained on the mirror— “Goddess. Please, Daddy. I need your touch. Wanna feel you,” you begged, your voice shaking desperately.
He chuckled softly, “That's right. You’re my Goddess,” he murmured, his touch growing more insistent as he moved his hands over your body, twisting and pulling at your nipples. Eijirou leans down to take one of them into his mouth, slathering his lubricated tongue over the nub and suckling hard, releasing with a wet pop.  “Keep talking, love. Daddy wants to hear it all.” He continues to smack his lips against your hard buds sloppily, saliva dripping down. 
 You look down at him, mouth falling open in pleasure before you say, “only you know how to make my pretty pussy feel this good Daddy–mmfuck.  I feel so—” your stomach tightens— “desired... S-so loved. So wanted… when you touch– ahh— me,” you rush out the words as you feel your orgasm drawing near, determined to reach it. “I feel so beautiful a– and your touch makes me feel so ali— nnnggh” he switches to the highest speed and the coursing pleasure renders you unable to speak at this point. Unraveling in a silent scream, your eyes roll back and legs shake as your walls convulse. Creamy goodness seeping out and sliding down onto his pants, wetting them. Eijirou moans at hearing you praise yourself, at seeing you cum, at feeling your wet release. “Good job baby, fuck…mm.” His hips bucking up in excitement, “fuck... I can’t fuck you yet, baby, not yet. Not until…” He sets the wand to the side and starts massaging your pussy lips, gathering all the slick there to lube up his fingers. You grind up against him lazily, still coming down from your orgasm.
 Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as you wait for him to continue, knowing that whatever he says will make you even more aroused. His other hand caresses your body, and he whispers in your ear, “Not until you beg me for it, until you tell me how much you want me inside you, until you scream my name again and again out in pleasure because once isn’t enough.” You feel your cheeks heat up and your desire growing with every word. You close your eyes and whimper, “Please Daddy, make me yours. I want you, I need you. I want to feel you inside me.”
Your body is humming as you feel him insert two fingers into your twitching hole, pushing deep and stroking steadily. “Yeah?” You can feel yourself trembling, Your breathing becomes more and more erratic, almost desperate as he adds a third finger, hoping he’s not moving too quickly but needing to prep you for his massive cock. “You want me to fuck you into a babbling mess?” he pants, knowing exactly what he's doing. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge again, as he pumps his digits. His movements become more urgent, stimulating that sweet spot by curing his fingers deep inside. The sweet slapping sound of your moist cunny against his palm, echoing in the room as he works your pussy with expertise. His fingers begin to curl more as he asked, “like that, sweetpea? You like it like this?” You’re unable to answer; instead; your words have devolved into incomprehensible mumbles and moans.
“...fuck—” Eiji suppress a moan of his own, trying to force his arousal back down, so he doesn’t cum from pleasuring you.
“Mhmm,” and you can feel yourself at the edge. You can feel yourself tensing up, your body quivering as he picks up speed. Eijirou starts to swipe at your clit with a nearly lightning-fast pace, doing an ungodly combination with both hands. You can't take it any longer, and you let go, screaming his name repeatedly, your voice raw and desperate as you come undone in his arms, shaking and weeping from the sheer intensity of the experience.
 “Eijirooouu! Eijiiiiii, fuuuuck…” you howl, your voice shaking as you try to catch your breath. He grunts in approval.
 Eijirou presses a hard kiss to your temple, still trying his best to contain himself. His voice was a low rasp, barely audible, as he asked you, “How does my gorgeous girl feel now?” He held you securely, and you could feel the love emanating from him. His tender touches. His passionate kisses. His comments, “good girl… good fuckin’ girl,” still reverberated in your thoughts as you were entranced by his presence.
Voice still husky, “let me make love to you,” Eijirou truly requested this time.
“Of course,” was all he needed to hear before he tucked an arm under your knees. Lifting your lower body up with your back still resting against his wide muscular chest, which rose and fell in deep ragged breaths beneath you. He freed this thick veiny length from the confines of his sweats, shimmying the pants the rest of the way down his legs, and kicking them aside. Eijirou returns you to your previous position on his lap, thick, pulsing stiffness pushed up against your plush ass cheeks. Groping the softness of your thighs, he tries to regain his composure now that he’s so close to burying himself in your depths.
Eijirou's breathing is heavy and labored, the musky scent of his sweat mixing with the sweet, tangy smell of your arousal. His hands roam freely, gently exploring your curves and the contours of your body. His fingers leave trails of fire as they lightly brush against your skin, tracing circles on your hips and lower back. His cock jumps in anticipation as he shifts his hips, repositioning to align the tip of his cock and pushing it against your entrance. You moan softly and shudder as he slides in, inch by inch, stretching you out with his heavy length and girth.  You feel Eijirou stretching you out, his heavy length and girth filling you up completely. His breath hisses out as you squeeze him in his efforts to fill you painlessly. He takes another deep and steady breath before he bottoms out, asking if you���re okay. You give him a weak nod and you both moan as the sensation of being filled and compressed washes over you, your walls contracting around him in welcome.
You sit there in his lap feeling so full, exchanging breaths between his mouth and yours, falling into a rhythm only the two of you could follow. Neither of you are looking in a mirror anymore, instead you stare deeply into each other's eyes, the only communication being the linking of your souls… His right hand on your cheek, holding your face to his, left hand around your waist supporting you. Your left hand on his cheek, right hand holding the arm wrapped around you. He leans back slightly and begins to rock in and out of you slowly, with long deliberate strokes, never breaking eye contact. You bite your bottom lip as a tear trails down your face. A whimper escapes you, his lip trembles as his breath catches. Eiji presses his forehead to yours and says, “You’re so strong and beautiful. You’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for— ahh, sss—” he hisses at the end, his strokes beginning to quicken as his fucks up into you. Wet slapping sounds increase in volume as skin meets skin. You nod frantically as more tears flood your eyes from both the pleasure and praise. “I’ve loved you since I first saw you ba— fuck— baby…” he stammers. The hand on your cheek joins the other at your waist, gripping you tightly, his thrusts never faltering.
 Eijirou closes his eyes for a moment in an effort to calm himself to prevent his emotions from bubbling to the surface. He wants this to be about you, so he concentrates. And when he opens his eyes again, there’s a fire behind his red irises. Leaning all the way back on the bed, bringing you with him, he digs his heels into the mattress and fucks you hard. The loud thwapping of his hips pistoning into your ass competes with your sobbing. Eijirou drives his cock deep and pulls out so much the tip is just barely inside. Then he jackhammers away at your walls, and you are full-on wailing now, calling out his name, arms flailing to find stability as he fucks you stupid. He grips your belly in one hand, splaying his fingers wide, the plush flesh spilling between them as he thrusts. “I love this shit here—” he squeezes the pudge of your stomach, then presses down to feel the thump of his tip hitting your cervix. Eijirou growls at the sensation as he continues to split you in half.
 Tucking his arms under the back of your knees, he brings them up to your chest, cradling you and fucking into your now stilled form as he’s regained control of the situation. “Eeeijiiiii, you’re so deep. I feel you soo fuckin’ deep…” you hiccup as tears and drool streak your face.
“Yeah? You like feeling Daddy’s dick in your guts, baby? You like me knocking your pretty walls loose?” he grunted out, emphasizing the last sentence with his thrusts. Eijirou rotates his hips, beginning to churn your insides.
“Aaagghh, I’m g’na cum… I’m g’na cu—um” you squeak.
“Go on, sweetiepie, make a mess for Daddy. Make my fuckin’ dick all sloppy with your cum. Wet the bed for me,” he growls in your ear.
He shifts one of your legs over to join the other in one of his arms still pulled tightly to your chest, which is no problem to him, given your size difference. Eijirou reaches his free hand down and massages quick circular motions on your clit. He doesn’t miss a beat with the thrusting of his hips, balls slapping wetly against your ass like music.
“Ah, wait! —Daddy! Oh, fuck… fuckfuckFUCK!” you say hysterically as you feel a different kind of pressure building, almost like you have to pee. And suddenly, your pussy gushes, spraying clear liquid in a strong stream only broken by the steady swiping of his fingers still working at your clit to send you beyond the edge of ecstasy. Your walls clenched in a vice and unclenched repeatedly, milking his cock and forming a white creaming ring at the base, which he fucks back up into you. “mmmFUCK, yeah, babe, keep squeezing my dick. Just like tha— shit — ohf—” his voice broke off, going to a higher octave then back down to a deep guttural moan of your name.
Eiji’s cock pulsed inside you, hot gooey heat spilling from it, warming the inside of your belly.
He continues slow and steady pumps into your sore, stretched hole to keep his cum buried deep inside. “Have my baby,” Eiji rasped real low into the shell of your ear, leaving the lightest kiss there. He groans, still coming down from his own orgasm, surprisingly, “fuck, that’s good.” 
“Yeah, I’ll have your baby,” you whisper back, tilting your head to the side, so he can hear you better from behind, and your eyes meet again. Eiji holds your gaze, measuring your words and expression, calculating the seriousness of your statement. “Yeah?” he asked, brows furrowed in uncertainty that you really meant it. Honestly, he didn’t think you actually heard him, so this is a shock.
“Yeah…” you give him a smile, the kind that he hasn’t seen from you in some time, and that’s what affirms it all for him. 
He sits up slightly, pushing you into a seated position on his lap and spinning you around to straddle him, never disconnecting. And Eijirou pulls you into a tight embrace, his shoulders beginning to rock, body shaking, then you hear it. A sob ripped from his chest as he was unable to hold back his emotions any longer. This was perfect, and it sent him over the edge.
“Oh my god, Eij! What’s wrong baby?!” you attempt to pull away to examine him, but he just clutches you tighter, “Nothings wrong… I’m just really fuckin’ happy, okay?” he let out quietly, a little embarrassed of his emotional display.
“Aww… It’s okay to cry,” you say sweetly. “Even for Big Red,” you continue, joking harmlessly.
“Hah, yeah I guess,” he sniffles cracking a smile, then he’s looking at you again, his vermilion eyes glistening.
“Cupcake… I really do love you. I mean it.  Everything about you is a blessing to me, and just now—” he pauses, letting out a short laugh— “you’ve agreed to bless me more. It’s just a lot to take but, I hope it never stops. I want you always, I love you always,” he confesses, giving you a loving kiss on the lips.
“I love you too, Eijirou Kirishima. You’re the best husband, and I’m sorry I ever doubted you”
Looking down then back up through wet eyelashes, you add, “and I’m sure you’ll make a great father.”
You two sit for a moment in lotus position, basking in the afterglow of your passionate and intimate love making, snuggling close to each other. He continues to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, his lips feel so soft and warm against your skin as he continues to kiss you. Hands tracing delicate patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine. Eijirou’s breath tickles your neck as he murmurs his love for you. He pulls back slightly, looking deeply into your eyes, and you can feel the love radiating from his gaze. He holds you even closer, not wanting to let you go, and you can feel his heart beating against yours… So when you do try to get up, Eijirou looks at you with a confused expression and asks, "what are you doing, honey?"
“Eij, I'm all sticky. We're all sticky,” you say, in a tone that suggests it's apparent.
“And sticky we will stay," Eijirou says, laughing softly. "I gotta keep you plugged up, babe. Don't want my seed spilling out of you and going to waste, now. Unless you want me to fill you back up again," he adds, giving you a suggestive smirk. "Although, I think you need a bit of a break before I knock your shit loose again,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye.
What the hell are you gonna do with this man? All you know for sure right now is that Daddy loves you. Unconditionally. No matter what happens, he will always be there for you and be your biggest supporter, doing whatever it takes to make sure you are happy and safe. You deserve love and you are loved.
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A/n: Look... this is only my second time writing smut and I know I got carried away. Honestly, it might be TOO much. I'll work on it, I promise. TBH, I'm really nervous about posting this. Other than that I hope people like it because it took me some time to do and I'm also really excited about it? Please, be nice! Feedback is welcome! Love you, okay, bye!
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dysphoric-culture-is · 1 year ago
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Dysphoric culture is wanting a phalloplasty without a vaginectomy and not being able to find any doctors who've ever done it, and then crying because you know your ideal configuration apparently isn't a thing that happens.
I want to keep my vulva/vagina, but I still want a penis, and I can't tell you the amount of times I've cried because I don't think this type of surgery is even done or, if it is, done in the US at least. It sucks so much.
Dysphoric culture is!
Also anon, great news: this surgery is real! It’s called vagina-preserving phalloplasty or VPP.
There aren’t a ton of surgeons who perform it in the US but some (from the Crane Center in California) are listed here. There’s also someone in New York that talked about getting a vagina-preserving metoidioplasty in a news article but mod doesn’t know who their surgeon was. More info and some more surgeons are here.
More people are getting nonbinary bottom surgeries so there are slightly more resources around now. Good luck anon!
(For those wanting the opposite of this, phallus-preserving vaginoplasty exists too.)
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