#I am so touch starved it's sick

[probablyin-bed]

it would be a real shame if someone just happened to ..... trip and fall into my bed and ended up cuddling me and .......... played w my hair. hm

[astrobei]

Something’s wrong.

It’s a quiet afternoon in Will’s room. Mike is here, and this simple fact should be taking precedence over all else. It would be, on any other day — a day where it wasn’t off-puttingly quiet outside. On any other day, it would be all he could focus on.

Not that it’s not important. Mike is here, sprawled haphazardly across him, limbs akimbo like he couldn’t even be bothered to right himself before the need to bodily press every square inch of himself up against Will’s torso suddenly overtook him. It’s endearing, is what it is, even though Mike’s feet are dangling off the side of Will’s bed — they’re getting too tall to be able to lie down like this, side by side and taking up all the room they could possibly want. He’s got his cheek pressed up against Will’s sternum, arms wrapped so tight around Will’s stomach and lower back that it’s bordering on uncomfortable.

Endearing. It’s endearing, the need for proximity. The need for closeness, for touch, for reassurance. Mike wasn’t like this before. Not to this degree, at least. Will pretended to be annoyed by it at first, but the façade hadn’t even lasted a day before he cracked. He needs it too, and they both know it — the rhythmic push and pull of Mike’s breathing. Feeling Mike’s heart beat steadily against his own, separated by a meager few inches of blood and muscle and bone. The kinesthetic weight of a body against his own, grounding him on his off days — days where his pulse is perpetually panicked and off-kilter, threatening to fly away entirely, rendered unsuccessful only by the shape of Mike’s shoulder blades under his palm. The cotton of his flannel button-down, worn soft with use.

Grounding things. Real things. Safe things.

It’s a quiet afternoon. Mike’s foot twitches, suddenly and gently against where it’s pressed up against the line of Will’s calf.

It’s a quiet afternoon, and Will feels off, down to his bones.

Mike might be falling asleep.

Will smiles, hides it in the soft curtain of Mike’s hair where it’s brushing over his neck. Cups a hand around the back of his head and wraps his other arm around his shoulder — tighter, tighter, like Mike might just get up and walk away if he doesn’t. For all his pretending, Will is like this too, now: desperate, a little needy, selfish in small, ordinary ways. Too quick to worry when a call goes unanswered. Too quick to fuss over cuts and scrapes and bruises. He hugs too tight and he kisses too hard and he gets unsettled by quiet, calm afternoons.

He wasn’t ever like that before.

Mike twitches again — so delicately that it’s almost like an afterthought — then his arms tighten around Will’s midriff.

That feels intentional. Even if it hadn’t been. Things with Mike feel intentional. Purposeful.

Even if he is — you know. Asleep, a little.

Will’s room is comfortably warm; the late summer sun has been hiding lately, and the sky isn’t blue, exactly but at least it’s not red anymore — dark and rolling and angry. It’s still, and it’s quiet, and it’s peaceful for the first time in a long time — a long time—

—and still, something’s wrong.

“Will?”

Mike shifts, just slightly, just enough to lean his head against Will’s collarbone and look up at him. He catches the edge of Mike’s expression like it’s a secret, a glimpse of wide eyes, a little confused.

Will peers down at him. “Go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t,” Mike says, even as he blinks heavily. He rolls out his ankle, bumps it against Will’s and keeps it there, stretches long and languid, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Will says. If Mike stays like this, if he doesn’t look up any farther, maybe he can get away with it.

Mike doesn’t sound convinced. “You sure?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and pushing himself up, just enough to be able to look at Will better. “You seemed…”

He trails off. Will tucks a stray strand of hair back behind Mike’s ear, from where it had been falling loose and down into his eyes. “I’m sure,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep!”

“You were,” Will laughs. “You were twitching. Like a cat.”

“I don’t twitch,” Mike insists, then pauses. “Do I?”

“Sometimes,” Will admits, then presses a kiss to the top of Mike’s head. “When you’re really tired. I think it’s cute.”

“Stop,” Mike mumbles, but he lowers his head back to Will’s chest. “So mean to me.”

“I called you cute!”

“Mean,” Mike says, sounding like he’s halfway back to sleep already as he snakes an arm back around Will’s chest, hand resting lightly on the side of his throat, just over his jaw. He tangles their legs together, the sheets going wrinkled and bunched up under them. “So mean.”

Will smiles. “Sorry,” he whispers. He glances down at the mess of black hair in front of his face, runs a careful hand through it. Again, and again, and again. Mike makes a small noise, content and pleased, and presses in closer, like he’s trying to vanquish whatever minute semblance of space might have been left between them. “I won’t be mean again.”

It’s a joke, obviously. Still, Will traces apologetic circles into Mike’s back, into the gentle dip between his shoulders. He maps out the planes there, tries to commit them to memory by touch alone, the way he can feel Mike breathe in — slow, hesitant — and then out again — faster, like he’s collapsing back into Will’s body.

The circles give way to shapes, any that Will can think of. Then lines, curved and looping around his shoulder blades, his upper arms. He trails fingers up the back of Mike’s neck, where the cotton of his shirt gives way to a more organic warmth, and scrapes his fingernails lightly against the skin there. Drops another delicate kiss to the sliver of Mike’s forehead where his hair is parted as it falls around his face.

Mike lets out another pleased noise, half-coherent and probably involuntary, and his hand twitches lightly on Will’s jaw. Will bites back a smile, and stares straight up at the ceiling.

Will was never good at this before either — taking the things he wants. Letting himself have things he wants. Something is turning over in his gut, warm and viscous and slow, with each moment of touch he lets himself have, in this newfound, selfish way — through Mike’s hair, down his arms and back up again. Over his back, his shoulders, trailing fingers up his cheeks. He rubs circles into Mike’s temples, watches his brows unfurrow — for once in his life — and his expression go slack with contentment. He wants to touch the corners of Mike’s mouth too, where they’ve turned downwards, vulnerable, half-pressed into Will’s shirt.

He does. He can.

It’s a novel thing, for him, having someone be this close. Having someone be this close just because they want to be, because they trust you.

Will doesn’t know what to make of that. He’s never felt this before, the urge to hold someone so close that all the bad things go away. The urge to touch, the urge to lie here until entropy takes them.

There are no bad things anymore, though. It’s a quiet afternoon, and it’s calm, and it’s peaceful, and—

Will stops.

His hand stills on Mike’s back.

Oh, he thinks, still looking up at the ceiling. Oh.

“Will?” Mike stirs again, and he’d definitely been right on the precipice of sleep this time, judging by the way his voice is dragging on the single syllable. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Will whispers, a little incredulously, as realization dawns upon him. He wants to laugh. He wants to cry too, a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.”

Mike taps a slow finger against Will’s cheek and peers carefully up at him. “What is it?

“I,” Will starts, then stops. He’ll sound ridiculous if he says it. Ridiculous and pathetic and— “Nothing,” he says anyway, despite every molecule of better judgment in his body. “I’m just— I’m happy.”

Mike pauses. “Oh,” he says simply, cheek still pressed to Will’s chest. He sounds a little caught off-guard, in a good way. “I— that’s good. That you’re happy.”

The weird feeling in Will’s gut bubbles up, up, and over. “Yeah,” he says quietly, trying to keep his voice even. “I am. You make me happy.”

At this, Mike looks up. His expression is a bit startled, like a deer in headlights. “What?”

Oh, god. Will swallows. He looks back up. “I just,” he says, “I’ve never— I’m happy. And I don’t know when— I don’t know if I’ve ever. Been this happy before, I mean. Before everything. Before—”

You, he thinks. He doesn’t say it, but it goes implied.

Mike is silent.

The weird feeling starts settling back into Will’s stomach, slow and steady like molasses. Shit. That was, objectively, probably a weird thing to say. It was, right?

Oh, god.

Will blinks, once, twice, thrice in quick succession, and keeps his stare fixed on the ceiling.

“Will,” Mike says at last, from somewhere below him. He lifts his head off of Will’s chest, tufts of black hair swimming into view. “Can you— can you look at me, please?”

Oh, god.

Will looks down. “Yeah?”

Mike looks— wondrous, maybe, which is a bit dramatic, but it’s true. “Really?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound freaked out or anything, which is a good sign, but— “I do?”

“Yeah,” Will whispers. “You do. Like, really happy.”

Happy seems a bit diminutive, if Will’s being honest. Whatever this feeling is runs much deeper than that — past contentment and comfort and satisfaction. Ease, maybe. Safety would be closer.

He doesn’t say any of that.

Mike’s cheeks flush a brilliant pink. He splays his palm across Will’s cheek and asks, in mild disbelief, “Is that what was bothering you?”

“It wasn’t bothering me,” Will says quietly, tugging at Mike’s wrist and sitting up, just slightly, leaning back against one elbow. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t,” Mike says simply, and lets himself be moved. “I could tell. I just— I thought it was something, you know. Worse.”

“What?” Will laughs, and Mike’s expression softens in relief. “Like what?”

“I don’t know!” Mike exclaims, but he’s smiling too. “I just— I could tell, and I didn’t— I don’t know. Never mind.”

Will pushes a strand of hair behind Mike’s ear again, the same one that had been falling back out the entire time they’d been lying together. “I’m sorry if you worried,” he says quietly. “I just— I didn’t know what it was. I’ve never been this happy before.”

“Will,” Mike starts, expression earnest and searching. He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Sorry,” Will adds, for good measure. Maybe Mike is, like, totally freaked out. “No pressure, or anything.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mike says immediately, frowning. “Never apologize. I just— I’m happy too. You make me happy. Really happy.”

“Well that’s good,” Will jokes, but it comes out halfhearted. “I should hope I’m not making you sad.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Will.”

“Sorry,” he says on instinct, then immediately bites down on his lower lip. “I mean. Yes. Yeah.”

Mike gives him a look, exasperated and a little fond. “I mean,” he says, then leans forward, all the way back into Will’s space, “you make me happy too. I don’t know when I’ve been— me too, I mean. Me too.”

“Oh,” Will breathes out, in awe, a little bit, of a lot of things — the deepening flush across Mike’s cheek, the ease with which the admission comes tumbling out of his mouth. The simple reciprocity of it bowls him over, like maybe Mike thinks about this, when Will doesn’t know — just how happy Will makes him. “Okay.”

Mike eyes dart between his own. “That all you have to say?” he teases. “Okay?”

“What else do you want me to say?” Will asks, teasing back, a little, but also asking a little truthfully. He’s not the greatest with words, but he’s also not stupid — he understands the implications, here, of what it means to feel so happy around someone that it feels like you’re admitting to something bigger by just saying it. He knows what he’s implying, and he knows Mike is picking up on it, but he doesn’t know how to put that into words — the way his soul feels like it’s stilled inside of him, somewhere, no longer restless or jittery or perpetually keyed up.

He wonders if Mike feels like that too.

The thought, suddenly, is too much.

“Nothing,” Mike says, after a moment. He pauses, then presses a fleeting kiss to Will’s cheek. “Nothing.”

“Mike,” Will says, suddenly, then grabs a hold of Mike’s wrist again. “I— you know that I—”

He feels overwhelmed, a little frantic. He’s sure it’s coming through in his voice. The rest of the sentence hangs there, suspended in midair between the two of them.

Love you, Will thinks. I love you. I love you.

He needs Mike to know.

Mike can’t ever know.

He looks away again, like maybe Mike will be able to tell exactly what he’s thinking just by looking at him.

“Yeah,” Mike is saying. “It’s okay, Will. I know. Me too. Obviously.”

Will relaxes. Thank god for plausible deniability. “Okay,” he says instead, feeling a smile split wide and exhilarated across his face. He feels like he just ran a marathon, and it isn’t until he lies back down that he feels it. The adrenaline, sweet and thick and palpable in his veins. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Mike echoes, then settles back down on top of him. “Yeah. Cool.”

Will tucks his chin over the top of Mike’s head, running a soothing hand over Mike’s hair. His heart is beating so fast that he’s sure Mike is able to tell. “Go back to sleep,” he says quietly. Mike lets out a noise that might be a laugh, and tucks his face into Will’s neck.

It’s a quiet afternoon. Everything feels perfectly right.

[classicallyyours]

needy - m.o

Another emergency Drabble because he is stuck in my head and I am a lover and delulu ✨❤️ - had this idea stuck in my head all morning at work so this is what I wrote instead of paying attention teehee it’s okay I’m ahead of schedule

Husband!Samu cause oh dear he’d be so good to me cause I said so <3 wc - 448 // unedited as always sorry babes it’ll happen one day i promise // gender neutral (you are called Love! He loves you! So much!) 

It’s early. Too early. The smallest creak in your floorboards woke you up, right when your sleep cycle was nearing its end. How unfortunate. Your bleary eyes barely made out the large red numbers on your alarm clock. 05:30. You internally jumped up for joy. You still had another two hours before you needed to get up. You proceeded to turn your body to find your husband and curl back up for sleep, only to be met with an empty bed. You furrowed your brow, fisting his side of the sheets, confirming what you already knew: he wasn’t there. Through your foggy and sleep-ridden mind, you made your way out of your bedroom, searching for your lover. 

The sky was still cloudy and grey; a blue hue painted your living room in exhaustion and melancholy. Lights were still off, save for the kitchen, where Osamu was making coffee. You shuffled over to him quietly and wrapped your arms around his middle. He flinched, startled, before he settled one of his hands on yours. His tummy rumbled with his laughter. 

“Good morning to you too.” He kissed the back of your hand, turning around to greet you with another to your forehead. “What are y’a doin’ up? You still have some time before y’a need to get ready for work.” 

You whined, burying your face into his chest. He cradled the back of your head and pressed another lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Love? You alright?” 

“Don’t leave yet…” you drawled. He smiled sympathetically at you. He typically didn’t need to go in before 7, unless he was catering. To your misfortune, he had a large party to prepare for today. “Just… need cuddles for a few more minutes…” 

“Awe, what, feeling a bit needy this morning? Need yer big strong man to spoil you a little?” He teased. You sheepishly nodded and his heart melted. Osamu squeezed you closer before picking you up, coffee long forgotten. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grazing your fingers over his recently buzzed undercut, and he carried you over to the couch. He kept you close, rubbing your back, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He murmured his devotion for you between planting kisses on your temple and cheeks. You felt sleep overtaking you once more, and you left a kiss on his shoulder. 

“I love you Samu…” you drooled. He smiled, and left a warm trail of kisses up your neck and behind your jaw before whispering, “I love you more.” 

He carried you back to bed and tucked you in, leaving one final kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Sweet dreams, my love.” 

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

/ mildly spicy art under the cut! --- sacredshipping ❤️‍🔥

clingy ghost types. 💕

[averysmallcetacean]

ok, so someone might've noticed that I've been talking alot about this one friend in tags and stuff, this is going to be about them and might be a bit rambly/overdramatic so bear with me. If you do read this I would really appreciate any advice inc just saying "you're being stupid, stop worrying" I literally have no one I can talk to about this so I would really appreciate it <3

ok so this friend and I have gotten much closer in the past few months which I've been really happy about. I haven't had close friends in a long time so it's been nice to have someone I actually look forward to seeing, it makes the hellhole that is school more bearable. Also, we are both quite physically affectionate people while none of my other friends are that physically affectionate so that's been nice yk. Anyway, I get attached to people quite quickly and they've rapidly become my favourite friend (and maybe my favourite person). I care about them so much and honestly just want to see them happy, I love them (platonically) yk.

But I'm worried that I've just gotten way too attached and that to them I'm just a friend and not someone they care too much about. Cause, like for me this is a really special friendship, I really value the time we spend together and the fact that we can be physically affectionate. But they have other friends who they are arguably much closer with and who they are also physically affectionate with and I'm worried that I've misinterpreted and that we aren't really that close and that they're just like that and I've just gotten overattached. It's not like they've been awkward with me or anything, if anything they've gotten more affectionate lately but like, it probably means nothing to them but to me it's like the highlight of my day when I get to hang out with them.

tldr: I really care about my friend but I'm worried that I've misinterpreted and that I am not really important to them at all

p.s. If you are my friend and you've seen this for some reason (if you have then like, you know who are lol), then like no you haven't, this was all a weird dream

[skhardwarevers1]

lowkey. Not over my ex at all

[mistressamell]

I'm just so lonely these days

I wish I was better

[glittertrail]

.

[seagullcharmer]

sigh. feeling very shy and lonely in this chili's tonight

[armafidelium]

just imagine the kind of reaction/response aphelios would have at someone giving him a tender and comforting embrace

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…” 

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[eddiesxangel]

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

[mangosorbetter]

One day you’re single and sad about your break up and then the next day you realize you haven’t had sex in a month and you’re actually being so fucking weird about it, really

[telanadasvhenan]

i am such a big fan of lavellan and solas kissing & touching non stop but i am also an advocate for touch starved solas who felt his hand around her wrist one time and simply couldn't handle the possibility of touching another person again.

the YEARNING. the desperation, the sick, twisted hunger at the bottom of his stomach just thinking about the warmth of lavellan's skin. He's so steadfast in his conviction i think the only reason they DID kiss was because it was the fade. I think Solas purposefully tried to avoid touching anyone, especially lavellan, because it's one more affirmation that the world around him is real and this isn't a dream. He can't give himself an inch because he will take a mile. It's like when you haven't eaten for so long that the idea of food makes you nauseous. He shakes and shivers just at the graze of her armour. AGH

the idea that he loves her so badly that just the thought of her touch sends him weak enough to isolate himself physically makes me want to curl up and kick my feet.

[maverickcalf]

I was playing a game and a moment that wasn't even sad made me want to bawl my eyes out.

[oathkeptmusings]

darker vibes

❛ i would let you rip me apart if it meant loving you. ❜

❛ this fear you feel? it won't last. ❜

❛ you are my salvation. ❜

❛ i revolt you, don't i? ❜

❛ get the hell away from me. ❜

❛ i want to sink my teeth into every inch of you. ❜

❛ i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into. ❜

❛ worship me. until i tell you to stop. ❜

❛ don't you know how sick with love i am for you? ❜

❛ fucking hit me already. ❜

❛ i would burn the world for you. ❜

❛ i don't want to be good, no matter how hard you wish it. ❜

❛ i don't know how you've bewitched me, but it needs to stop. ❜

❛ fix me. ❜

❛ they die for love, you kill for it. ❜

❛ you are mine, whether you agree or not. ❜

❛ do you like it when i bleed for you? ❜

❛ i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you. ❜

❛ i'm starved for you, morning and night. ❜

❛ now i get to ravish you. ❜

❛ i am your god and your executioner. ❜

❛ you are doing so well, my pet. ❜

❛ you're my sweetest poison. ❜

❛ let's do something about that mouth of yours. ❜

❛ your fascination with me will be your death. ❜

❛ you're the monster that's enticed me into your bed. ❜

❛ all you can say are pretty lies. ❜

❛ the fucked up thing is that it isn't enough to just love you. ❜

❛ you've broken me. all i can think about is you. ❜

❛ you'll beg for more. ❜

❛ an eternity with you would never satisfy me. ❜

❛ i would gladly let you drag me to hell. ❜

❛ everything i've done.. every horrible atrocity, it's been for you. ❜

❛ you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me. ❜

❛ feel grateful that i allow you to touch me. ❜

❛ every time your lips touch my skin, you burn me from the inside out. ❜

❛ there's no black or white, only gray. ❜

❛ no one touches what's mine. ❜

❛ make me indifferent, make me horrible. ❜

❛ i could never be the one to love you. i can only be the one that kills you. ❜

❛ your lips are poison, your laugh a curse. ❜