#a good time lol. and it’s only going to get more intense this whole week and i don’t know if i can handle it. ive been overstimulated

[pepprs]

ok update i just finished making my card and i said / drew (lol) basically everything i wanted to say in it (except for the things i definitely can’t say now that this is happening lol). so i think maybe i might be ok with not saying what i want to say directly to her. but then when i say that im not ok with it at all LOLLLL so i think i need to sleep on it and maybe see what tomorrow brings

[luciddownloading]

Astrology Observations: Gemini Edition 🗣️

📱In the "classroom" of life, Gemini Sun, Gemini Moon and Gemini Rising each represent something different.

Gemini Sun is the teacher. They are the person with a lot of information to share but their methods will vary. You might not understand why they're trying to teach you something the way that they are or why they're telling you something. They can confuse or stump you or mentally challenge you. But, at some point, it clicks. Also, remember how, in school, you used to see your teacher as just a teacher and the fact that they had a whole other life and side to them outside of that was weird? That's how people experience Gemini Suns. They're viewed so heavily in one light that people struggle to see there's more to them

Gemini Moon is the student. There is always some new fact or tidbit to absorb to them. In the same way different students have different ways of learning, there is a wide range of Gemini Moons. Some of them are quiet and observant, some are scattered and never shut up, and some can be both, depending on the setting they're in. There is often an inferiority or superiority complex around their intelligence. They may be super-intellectual and bright and lean into that energy hard, like the proud valedictorian, or they may fear they're stupid and compensate with a class clown or airhead charm

Gemini Rising is the textbook. Or maybe even the whole curriculum. They keep people sharp and on their toes and you never know what you're going to get from them. A class project this week, a pop quiz the next. Gemini Rising is unpredictable but in a way that stimulates you and even feels good for you. Also, the textbook comparison fits because a) their body language and reactions are very easy to read and b) how you read them depends on your approach. You can do a quick "skim" and only get part of them or fully invest your time and energy into them and discover how interesting they really are

(I feel like my metaphors for Gemini were more descriptive than the other signs so far and that feels very fitting lol)

📱 Gemini Mars people can be VERY verbally aggressive. And I don't even just mean when they're mad. Their words intensely affect others. (This is also true of Aries Mercury and Mercury conjunct Mars but not to the same extreme)

If they make smart-ass remarks, edgy jokes or little digs, people can take it extremely personally or, if they don't know them well, suddenly dislike them. Also, the very talkative ones can drain others' energy easily or even piss people off with their talkativeness. "Can I get a word in edgewise?!" "Can you please stop talking?!" Gemini Mars folks are often an acquired taste and their old friends or loved ones may just have to tell others that this is just how they are and not to take it personally

📱 People with Gemini placements are the embodiment of "yes, the rumors are true". Gemini rules gossip and if there is any gossip spread about them, it's probably a fact. Even if it isn't, they will either just laugh it off or be delighted that people are discussing them. "Any press is good press" was probably first said by a Gemini person.

📱 Gemini Suns might just have the most notorious reputation in astrology. Although they are not all evil, obviously, a lot of them clearly fit that "split personality" stereotype and that can manifest in fascinating or chaotic ways.

The regular girl named Norma Jean who became the otherworldly icon Marilyn Monroe and the constant struggle she felt between both parts of her. The fact that Tupac loudly proclaimed "thug life" while also being a sensitive guy who loved poetry. Angelina Jolie, in her younger days, being both a compassionate UN ambassador and a scandalous siren. Every Gemini Sun displays that famous duality in some way

📱 Venus in Gemini gets a bad rap as "the cheater's placement" and that's not going to apply to many with this Venus sign. In fact, some of them may frequently be the victim of cheating themselves or made to be the "side piece" a lot. But, their romantic situations do get messy on a regular: love triangles, exes that persistently pursue you when you're with someone, being torn between two different romantic options, etc. Some sort of "third party" situation.

Gemini Venus people, unlike most, also find it possible to be in love with two people at once. They may be very happy with their current person yet still hold feelings for an ex. OR they can be that person that an ex will never stop loving, even after they've settled down. "The one that got away" energy

📱 Gemini Moons have very powerful relationships with their sibling(s). (And if they're an only child, it's probably a cousin) It can be an incredibly close bond from childhood or it can be an intense and complicated sibling rivalry (or both).

And yeah, siblings fight. But, a lot of Gemini Moons have downright cutthroat rivalries with a brother or sister. Yet, there's still a lot of love there and the fighting is like an expression of it. Their family may accept this but it's pretty crazy to outside observers

📱 Mercury in Gemini people would be very good at learning new languages and would really enjoy it. Their Mercury is extra-strong and would make it very easy to adopt a new way of communicating and understanding other people. Also, they need good hobbies to keep their overactive brains stimulated and learning another language would be a very fruitful hobby

📱 Gemini Risings can pull off just about ANY look. Even if it doesn't perfectly suit them, it still works. They can go blonde, brunette, ginger, even wild colors like orange or purple. They can rock long hair or switch to a pixie or buzz cut. And they can easily move from one type of attire to the next: formal to casual, masculine and feminine, clean-cut or grungy. It's best for them to experiment with their style or aesthetic and not get too stuck on one thing

📱 Gemini actually doesn't do as well alone and that's not talked about as much. People with Gemini placements function better when they have a partner of sorts consistently by their side, similar to Libra, whether it's a romantic partner or a friend or anyone else close to them.

Gemini is symbolized by the Twins and that doesn't just represent their inner twin/alter ego but a steady companion who really connects to them, understands their viewpoint/mentality or even expands their outlook. (This is why The Lovers card in Tarot is represented by Gemini) This could also be a spiritual twin of sorts who is both very similar to and very different from them in beneficial ways. Without this influence, Gemini people aren't at their best

CHECK OUT MY PATREON

[thegnomelord]

ooohh I love the idea of alpha gaz actually. Especially with his dynamic with price because price is kind of like his role model sometimes and he's a much older and more experienced guy that's used to being in leadership positions. Gaz is younger and somewhat looks up to price and has never been in a position to tell other people what to do, so to have that flipped in the bedroom and have omega price and alpha gaz is not what most people would expect them to be. It makes their relationship more interesting. And gaz especially would be a good alpha because he's not a hothead and can keep control of himself more than most other alphas can. And I mean we've already had omega Gaz fics so it would be nice to switch it up this time (not if you don't want to. Just ideas)

Hm that's a good point and a cool dynamic idea too :Dd, as I'm not all that certain if I'm gonna even do abo so here's a quick experimental brain fart with Alpha Gaz/omega Price/alphaHound

CW:NSFW, this is more or less when Hound has mostly been rehabed and is more confident about intimacy. Not all too happy about it but it's a good enough example of how I'd incorporate the abo dynamic. Tell me what ya'll think lol

Price looks like he's run a marathon, huffing and puffing more than a racehorse as he settles in his nest. Of course his heat had to hit a whole 2 weeks earlier than it was supposed to, leading him to make a makeshift nest out of whatever he had in his closet and what the lads gave him. You'd think with him getting on in age his heats would slow down and lessen in intensity, but it seemed like his body was out to get him with his heats remaining the same as they had been when he first joined the military.

At least he's got two alphas able to help him through it.

Gaz doesn't have an overpowering scent like most alphas, but the smell of an omega in the first stages of heat will have any alpha's scent glands going into overdrive. The heady smell of nutmeg and beeswax spreads through the room, mixing with Price's own mint and blackberry scent that's been turned sweeter from his heat, as Kyle tentatively gets in the nest, fumbling with his belt like he's a teenager while he nuzzles his nose into Price's sweaty neck.

"Kyle I swear on the queen if you don't pick up the pace." Price hisses but the edge in his words are dulled by the soft purrs coming from his chest.

"Sorry sir," Kyle mumbles as he rubs his skin against Price's, somehow managing to end up between Price's spread legs, his fingers pushing into his slick hole. "I just- you smell so good."

"Eager whelp." You huff a small laugh as Price groans. Your own movements are slower, more measured, your scent muskier thanks to your age. You feel Kyle's hackles raise as you settle behind him, your body so, so much larger than his. But the low rumbling chuffs you make has him calming down just a bit, enough to not notice when your hand grips his wrist, two of your fingers sliding in along his and curling. "Move your hand like this, you'll get him wet in seconds."

Price moans as your curling fingers brush against the spongy spot inside him, his cock leaking a few drops of pre against his stomach. "As if you weren't the same." Price chuckles, holding Kyle by the scruff so he can pull him down into a sloppy kiss. "First time you helped Simon with his heat you barely lasted a minute before you shot your lil lads like a virgin."

Gaz doesn't know how either of you have enough sense in your heads left to think let alone talk when he feels like his brain is melting through his dick. Your scents curl in his nose and he whines, so hard it hurts him as he feels Price clench and relax around his fingers. He sobs his muffled 'thank you's into Price's neck when you deem Price prepped enough, a firm hand on his cock guiding him inside that tight heat.

Kyle's hips try to snap up to sheathe himself inside his omega on instinct, a low and pitiful grownly whine leaving him when you hold him steady with only his tip inside that tight heat.

"Go slow." You chastise him, one large hand on his hip to keep Gaz still while the other slides down to hold him by his knot. "Wouldn't want you to cum too soon, right?" When Kyle nods dumbly you slowly push on his hips until he's almost all the way inside Price, a small slap on his flank getting Kyle to rock his hips in a way you hope Price still likes.

"Lad- you-" Your name sounds like an angel's choir on Price's lips, his head falling back. Kyle takes that time to lay kisses and hickeys across his neck. "So good to me boys." Price slurs, eyes closing and enjoying the stretch of his walls around Kyle's cock, the pleasure and small hints of pain scratching that gnawing heat in his blood.

"Careful now Kyle," You hum and let go of his cock when he picks up the pace you want him to have, his ass grinding against your cock every time he pulls out to thrust back into Price. "I'll need to show you how to fuck properly if you lack the skills."

You can see why Price picked him to be the team's alpha. Most knotheaded whelps would have been up at arms for even the mere suggestion of taking a cock up the ass, yet by the sharpening of Kyle's scent you can he likes the idea.

"I wouldn't mind that." Kyle shoots back, and his surprising words get a pleased rumble out of you. "Yeah, you like that big man- fuck- hah-" the teasing list in his voice is lost as he moans, the smooth glide of his cock into Price and the lewd sound of omega slick squelching every time he moves making heat burn in his veins.

He shivers as your massive body presses further against his back, pinning him between you and Price and forcing his cock to go deeper with every thrust. "Good." You rumble against his neck, the cold metal plating your canines pressing against his skin as you gently nibble on his neck only working to further stoke the burning heat in his body. "Because I'm finding you lacking."

[cupid-styles]

silk and rope 3

the final part of ddlg harry and little/submissive y/n!!!!

in which harry is a dummy, y/n gets a little too drunk, and thanksgiving is finally good for something.

word count: 8k

content warnings: daddy dom and little/submissive relationship, alcohol, a little bit of angst, SMUT!!! (anal play, squirting, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sub drop, public play if you squint, dumbification, tiny bit of pet play.. if I missed something pls lmk lol). as stated in the first two parts, I tried to make this as accurate as possible but there are likely some things that aren't correct!! im just a girl and im sorry if something isn't portrayed right!!!!!!

thank you for reading and loving these two, while this is the last formal part of their story I will definitely be writing check-ins and blurbs for them in the future!!! enjoy :)

masterlist | talk to me

part one | part two

. . .

It doesn't take Y/N very long to realize Harry's acting weird.

Well, maybe not weird, but different. He's acting differently than he has been for the past two months, and it's giving her a bit of whiplash. She notices that it started the day after she slipped when he dropped her off at home, when he latched a collar around her neck. 

Her memory of that day is a little bit hazy; the events are more so glued together in blurry snapshots of pleasure and lust, but she does know that she had fallen into her little space while he was gone. He'd punished her for the whole butt plug incident, fucked her into oblivion, and then soaked in the tub with her before falling asleep next to her.

And really, it wasn't that different from their usual scenes. The dynamic was the same, as far as Y/N can remember, it may have just been a little bit more intense.

So why is Harry acting like this?

Instead of stopping by nearly every day to make sure she's eaten and rested, he'll just text her. If she hasn't eaten lunch or dinner yet, he'll order her food to her house instead of bringing her a homemade meal or stopping somewhere on the way. When he does come over, it seems like he's always in a hurry to leave — yesterday, he picked her up from a closing shift at the bakery and barely spoke to her in the car. He came inside, quickly cooked her a dinner, and left before she'd even finished eating, mumbling out some excuse about having to feed his sister's cat.

Worst of all, they haven't slept together in a week.

It's all overwhelming for Y/N, but this time, it's in the worst way possible. She feels incredibly down as the days go on, and she spirals and wonders what she did wrong to make him act this way. She can feel the breakup coming from a mile away, but she assumes that because it's Harry, he'll bake her a cake and buy her a kitten just because he doesn't want to be too mean about it.

She hates to admit it, but she's grown attached to Harry. And she really, really doesn't want to let him go.

It's what led her to asking Naomi to grab lunch on her day off. Naomi hasn't reached out too much lately so it's been awhile since they'd seen one another, but she's known Harry far longer than she has. 

(And yeah, Y/N feels kind of shitty about making plans with Naomi only to ask about Harry, but she has a nagging feeling that she's only kept her around because she feels bad she doesn't have friends outside of them.)

"I'm sorry, you and Harry are what?"

(She supposes she should have expected this type of response.)

"We're sleeping together," Y/N answers in a pathetic attempt to sound casual, keeping her eyes glued to the turkey sandwich on her plate, "But he's been acting kind of off lately, and I wasn't sure if you guys knew something I didn't."

"Well no one knew that," Naomi mutters, stabbing her fork into her salad and stuffing some lettuce into her mouth. "But to address your concerns, no, I don't know anything. Harry's notoriously private about his love life."

She clears her throat and nods. "I think he's gonna end things soon."

"Hmm, yeah," Naomi hums through a mouthful of food, "I don't think he does the whole friends with benefits thing. Lea tried once and he rejected her, it was kind of a mess. She couldn't stand to be in a room with him for like, two months."

"We're not sleeping with other people," Y/N quickly adds. "It's sort of an exclusive arrangement."

Still, Naomi shrugs her shoulders, and it doesn't soothe any of Y/N's worries.

"He may have told you that, but I honestly doubt it, babe. I'm sorry he broke your heart. He can be kind of an asshole in that way."

If anything, Y/N feels even worse now. The gears in her brain are turning too fast and she's starting to feel nauseous, putting the puzzle pieces together and envisioning what her life will be like without Harry after she's gotten so used to him taking care of her.

"Anyway, Bria is having a party this weekend," Naomi says, breaking her out of his spiraling thoughts, "You should come. It'll get your mind off things and you can find someone new to fuck."

She winces at her crude terminology, not because she's offended by it but because she thinks what she and Harry are doing is more than just fucking.

Aren't they?

Forcing down a sip of her Diet Coke, Y/N nods. "Yeah, I'll be there."

. . .

From: H

Can I come over tonight?

Y/N bites her lip as she reads Harry's text for the fourth time. Since getting home from lunch with Naomi, she's been stewing in a series of emotions: First, sadness, followed by frustration and anger, then sadness again, then acceptance. She's managed to occupy herself with some re-runs of Jeopardy, even if it reminds her of him.

She doesn't know what the right thing to do is. What if he wants to come over because he's ready to end things? She supposes she's just putting off the inevitable, but she's been broken up with enough times and she knows how much more painful this one will be. She's not prepared for that, even if she wants to be.

Sighing, she finally makes a decision, tapping her thumbs quickly against the screen.

Y/N: hey sorry i can't do tonight. think im coming down w something, i don't feel that well

H: Do you need anything? I can bring soup and medicine, whatever you need.

Y/N: no im ok, thank you tho

H: Let me know if you think of anything.

H: Maybe later this week if you're feeling better?

Y/N: yea maybe

Tears are already clouding her vision as she locks her phone and tosses it across her couch. Desperately, she wonders why the guy she's fallen for just can't like her back.

. . .

Harry knows he's fucking up.

He wants to smack himself across the face and tell himself to pull it together, but he can't. Every single cell and bone in his body is begging him to go over to Y/N's house and make it all better, and instead, he just sits on the couch, replaying those words over in his brain. Her swollen parted lips and eyes fluttered closed, the way it sounded so effortless falling from her mouth. I love you. 

He wanted to say it back. But that wasn't part of the arrangement.

She wanted someone to dominate her, to take care of her. Who would be if he took advantage of something she said after nearly two hours of play, when she'd been in her little space all day? It wasn't something he felt morally right about, but he knows he wasn't being any better. He couldn't hold himself to high standards when he was pushing her away.

It's why he's so down and out on Saturday night. Normally, he'd be snuggled up with Y/N, watching some movie or TV show, usually after or before an intense scene. Sometimes it served as a precursor to foreplay with the way he'd stroke over her thighs and play with her hair, watching as she became increasingly restless. Other times, it's what they did to unwind, a form of aftercare for both parties.

But tonight, he's not doing that. He's at home alone, confused, because Bria just texted him that she's having a party tonight and everyone's there — including Y/N.

He doesn't like that she singles her out like that. He knows that some of the girls in the group don't particularly like her because she's quiet and shy and rather reserved about her personal life. (He understands why she's that way now.) He doesn't even think Naomi is a good friend to her, but he would never go out of his way to tell her that — ultimately, she's capable of making her own decisions. However, she'd sent him some excuse about not being able to hang out a few days ago, claiming that she was sick and yet, tonight she was at a party?

Harry couldn't live with that.

So he fires off a text to Bria, telling her that he'll be there soon, dressing quickly and throwing himself together. When he's driving over to Bria's place, he makes a mental promise to himself, pledging that as long as Y/N doesn't hate him, he won't return home without her.

. . . 

Y/N is drunk, and she hates being drunk.

The last time she consumed a fraction of this amount of alcohol was the night she spilled her guts to Harry. Tonight, she's downed every shot that's been passed her way. She's not sure what she's looking to achieve — she doesn't want to go home with anyway and the only person she really wants to be with is Harry — and it makes her sad. So, so helplessly sad.

Despite being deep underwater, Y/N is cognizant enough to know that no one at this party really cares for her wellbeing. They were eager to get her drunk, but once she started swaying on her feet with hazy eyes, they stopped caring. Games of beer pong and flip cup were ongoing as she sat in the kitchen, propped up on the counter with her head against the cabinets. 

She feels so stupid, it makes her want to cry.

. . .

Harry attempts to play it cool when he arrives at Bria's house.

Everyone welcomes him, excited that he made it, but they have no idea that his presence has nothing to do with wanting to party. He's here for the girl who begs him to snap a collar around her neck and push a plug into her ass. The girl he happens to be very in love with.

Naomi bats her eyelashes at him and hands him a glass of wine; an attempt to schmooze him when she tells him she picked out this bottle just for him. He smiles politely. 

"Have you seen Y/N? Bria mentioned she was here."

Naomi's eyebrows raise, a defensive look crossing onto her face. "Why are you looking for her?"

"We just need to talk about something," he replies dismissively, uninterested in revealing any details to her, "So, is she here? Or did she leave already?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "She got pretty fucked up when she got here. She's kind of a mess, y'know? I don't even know if she's here or not."

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, concern and worry bubbling in his stomach, "She doesn't like to drink."

"Well, she sure liked all the shots everyone was giving her."

He closes his hands into tight fists, stunned at how careless these people could be. He couldn't believe he considered them friends at a certain point.

"Where did you see her last?" he eventually questions, pushing past the anger growing in his chest.

Naomi thinks for a moment. "I think Ren may have passed her in the kitchen. Not sure, though."

She's apparently finished with this conversation, clearly annoyed that she didn't get what she wants (Harry knows she's been trying to recreate that one night they made out years ago, but he's never been especially interested). He huffs and pushes past everyone else standing around in the living room, ignoring anyone who tries to start a conversation. When he walks into the kitchen, his eyes immediately find her defeated posture, her shoulders slumped over with eyes half-shut. 

"Y/N," he says, rushing over to her. He's not sure if she's even conscious, so he gently pats at her cheek. "Baby, are you alright?"

Her eyes flutter open, a look of confusion immediately taking over. "Harry?"

"Are you okay, Y/N? What happened?"

"Nothing," she mumbles through red-stained lips, "Why're you here?"

She's slurring her words and he swallows harshly, taking in her rough composure. She looks so tired and it breaks his heart to think that he could have caused this.

"Heard you were here and I wanted to make sure you were okay." he murmurs out, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, "Are you having a fun time?"

He already knows the answer when she shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. "No. Hate being drunk."

"I know, baby," Harry coos, "Would you be okay with me taking you home? Get you all cozy in your bed?"

If she's angry with him, her level of drunkenness has made her forget about those feelings because she nods, making grabby hands at him. He chuckles and helps her down from the countertop, immediately wrapping a supportive arm around her waist.

"My car's just parked outside. Do you think you can make it there?"

"Mhm."

With a gentle smile on his lips, he tugs her out of the kitchen and guides her to the front door. He can feel eyes on them and he assumes Naomi is likely leading the pack, but he doesn't care. Frankly, he's fine if this is the last time he sees most of these people — he doesn't think he wants to continue friendships with anyone who'd want to hurt Y/N.

She's quiet as he helps her into the car, buckling her seatbelt for her and closing the passenger side door once she's safe. He's quick to do the same for himself, churning the ignition and flicking the heat on to shield her from the chilly autumn air.

"Do you feel sick at all?" Harry asks as he pulls out of his parking spot. She shakes her head. "Okay, lemme know if that changes, lovebug."

They don't exchange any more words on the way to Y/N's place. Once he's parked, he turns to look over, only to find her slumped in her seat with closed eyes, steady puffs of air coming from her nose. His heart twitches — he wishes they were coming home from a date or something romantic, but he's reminded quite quickly of her drunken state.

He leaves her in the car for a moment to use his spare key to unlock her front door. When he returns, he gently scoops her body up and out of the car. Her eyes flicker open and he hushes her, kicking the door closed. 

"Can walk," she mutters out, and he nods, letting her down once they're safely in her home.

"I didn't wanna wake you up, that's all."

Y/N shrugs and kicks her shoes off, though she loses her balance and sways, Harry quickly coming to her side to steady her by the elbow.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

He looks down at the doe-eyed girl in front of him, sniffling as the words float from her lips. His stomach flutters with anxiety as he watches her eyes get watery, immediately using his thumb to wipe away the moisture from spilling over.

"Why would you ask that?" he murmurs, placing a hand to her hip.

"You don't like me," Y/N answers matter-of-factly. "And you've been avoiding me."

He sighs. He knows this isn't the right time to talk things through, especially because she's only saying these things given her swimming mindset. He hates that her mind even floated to such places, but if he's being honest, he isn't surprised — he thinks he would assume similarly if their roles were swapped.

"Can we talk about this in the morning?" Harry asks softly.

She shrugs her shoulders, letting her gaze fall to her feet. "You can just do it now. I don't wanna remember anything you have to say if that's the case."

"Y/N, stop it," he says with a shake of his head, attempting to guide her up the stairs. He's slightly impressed that despite her wobbly legs, she stays put. "I'm not ending things."

"Why wouldn't you?" she fires back, looking back up at him with a defiant look in her eyes, "You promised me you'd take care of me and— and for the past week or so, you've done anything but. You've just stressed me out and made me feel bad."

Harry swallows as guilt begins to crawl its way back up his spine. He knows she's right. She has every right to be upset. 

"I know," he mumbles, nodding his head, "I know. I haven't been a good dominant. I'm sorry."

"That's a shit excuse. I've heard that so many times before from guys who didn't treat me right from the start. You're different, Harry."

"Y/N..." he's getting frustrated now, disgruntled by how stubborn she apparently gets when she's drunk, "You're right about everything, but this isn't the time to talk this through. I want to do it when you're sober."

She rolls her eyes and if things were normal, Harry knows he would've grabbed her by the hips and leaned her over the steps to spank her. Instead, he lets out a breath and nudges her in the direction of her bedroom. 

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Y/N's protests cease after that and Harry's secretly grateful for it. She's sobered up enough to take her makeup off and change into her pajamas as he fetches her a glass of water and some Advil to take. He places them on her nightstand as she crawls into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

"Your apartment's still freezing," he murmurs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "I'll call a repair guy tomorrow."

"Are you staying then?" she asks softly, letting her eyes close the second she smushes her cheek into the pillow.

"I will if you'd like me to."

"Okay," she mumbles, "I hope you don't break up with me tomorrow."

He lets out what feels like the thousandth sigh that evening. "Stop saying that. I'm not going to."

Y/N simply shrugs.

. . .

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with a throbbing headache. Before she even opens her eyes, she can feel embarrassment warming every cell of her body, but she can't place a finger on why. She knows something happened last night but things get a little... blurry at a certain point; her last solid memory taking shots with Naomi and Lea. From there, she has a small inkling of what happened, mainly just recalling her sitting in the kitchen by herself when she started feeling woozy and tired.

When she finally blinks her mascara-crusted eyes open (she thought she took her makeup off last night, but maybe she did a shit job of it), she nearly jumps when she realizes there's someone laying next to her.

That someone being Harry. 

He has his reading glasses on and he's scrolling on his phone. Through squinted eyes, she reads the words heat repair guy best ratings in his Google search. When he realizes that she's awake, he locks his phone and clears his throat.

"Hey," he says, licking his lips, "How are you feeling?"

"Confused," she croaks out, lifting her head slightly to look up at him, only to be met with a pounding ache in her temples. 

"Here, be careful," he mumbles, leaning over to his side to grab something from the nightstand. He hands here two pieces of toast and two Advil. "You should eat this before you take anything. You were pretty wasted last night, I figured your hangover would be rough."

She hums in appreciation and takes a bite of the toast, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. "What are you doing here?"

He's not surprised that the details are hazy for her, so he flips onto his side to face her. "Bria told me about the party and mentioned you were there. I wanted to see you so I went, but you were, um, drunk and... by yourself. I took you home, that's all."

"Hm," Y/N nods, "Yeah, I remember getting drunk with everyone. I don't remember you being there except for us arguing here."

"We didn't really argue. You were just being... stubborn."

"About what?"

Harry sighs. "You wanted to talk about the state of our relationship and were convinced I was going to break up with you."

A beat. And then, "Oh."

"That was never my plan, by the way," he replies, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, "I was never going to end things."

She shrugs her shoulders and places her empty plate on the floor, tossing back the Advil. 

"I know I haven't been the best to you lately. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out how to approach things."

"Approach what?" she bites, laying back down. "I— all I know is that one day things were fine, and the next they weren't. You weren't being the same and I didn't know what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong," he shakes his head, "Just... you said something. When you were in your little space."

"I say a lot of things when I'm in my little space."

"Yeah, but this was... like, different."

"How, different?"

"More serious, I guess."

"Harry," she huffs, fisting the comforter in her hands, "I can't guess something I said when I wasn't being myself."

"You told you love me."

Y/N's head whips to the side and she immediately winces, shutting her eyes. He cringes and reaches out to touch her temples, gently applying a bit of pressure and rubbing them. It's silent for a moment as he massages her head.

"I'm sorry," she eventually mumbles, "You were probably freaked out. I'm sure I didn't mean to say it."

"Don't be sorry. I would never hold your emotions against you."

Still, she wants to hide her face in the blankets. She's embarrassed, that much is obvious. She doesn't even know if she actually loves Harry; a lot things come out when she's in her little space, some of which she means and some of which she doesn't. She supposes it's fair that he seems so freaked over it.

"I wish you told me sooner. I could've... explained myself. Maybe."

"Explained yourself?"

Y/N shrugs and lays back against the pillows. Harry follows her lead, tilting his neck so he can look at her.

"I can't say for certain that I love you or not, I've never been in love," she explains quietly, feeling her cheeks warm at the unexpected vulnerability spilling out of her, "Don't you think you could say things when you're dominating me that you don't necessarily mean? You degrade me sometimes and I know those things aren't true."

Harry thinks for a moment, pinching his lip between his fingers. "I guess, yeah."

"I would tell if you if I knew for sure, Harry. But I don't."

He nods and rolls onto his back. He doesn't know why but he feels... sad? Let down, maybe? He'd been under the impression that she loved him and, well... maybe he was okay with that.

"I'm sorry." she repeats softly. He shakes his head and reaches out for her hand, grasping it gently and giving it a small squeeze.

"Don't be. It was stupid. I overreacted."

"Thank you for rescuing me last night," Y/N murmurs, squeezing his hand back.

He pushes down the feelings of disappointment and forces a small smile on his lips. 

"Anytime."

. . .

Harry tries to go back to normal after that. 

He stops being so avoidant, which makes a big difference. He and Y/N are back to their near-daily hangouts, and it's easy to fall back into the routine they established before any of this happened. They're even having sex again, with Y/N readily falling into her little space every time he ties her to the bed, overstimulates her until she's crying, and fucks her open with his cock until he comes deep inside her. They never use condoms anymore, either, and the added layer of intimacy only contributes to what Harry realize shortly after that morning in Y/N's bed: he's in love with her.

He guesses he's known it for awhile, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. But when she explained why she said it, he felt so bummed that it only made sense. He'd wanted her to love him.

But Y/N is Y/N, shy and oblivious and rarely the first to bring up her feelings, so he leaves it at that. He can't think of a worse fate than them actually ending things for good this time, so he keeps his emotions to himself, locked up tight for no one to ever know.

This is a good method, he decides.

Until they're in Y/N's favorite bookshop, perusing through the section titled "BookTok" (he doesn't know what that means, but she clearly does since she has a stack of four books in her hand) and he sees it. 

The familiar moony-eyed gaze, batted eyelashes, spit swollen lips. Tugging at his hand, latching onto his arm every second she can, when the word falls from her lips.

"Daddy."

He looks down with wide eyes. She never calls him that when they're in public, but now she's blinking owlishly, nibbling on the fingernails of the hand that isn't attached to Harry's arm.

"Are you alright, baby?" he asks quietly, brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes.

"Mhm," she nods, grinning up at him, "Feeling little. 's that okay?" 

He smiles gently, loving this side of her, but concerned that it's happening when they're out and about. He's never experienced a sudden sub drop before, but he knows that he doesn't want to make her feel unwanted, as if she's doing anything wrong.

"Of course, bunny," he murmurs. "Can daddy take you home, then?"

"Yes, please. Startin' to ache."

With raised eyebrows, he nods quickly, lightly tugging her head in the direction of the register. He buys her books for her, grateful that she's decided to occupy herself with the sticker display before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her to his car. He buckles her in to make sure she's safe, her books piled neatly in her lap, and gets in on the other side.

She's quiet as she flips through one of her new novels while Harry periodically glances over at her to make sure she's doing alright. It's only when she starts squirming in her seat that he puts a hand over her thigh, squeezing gently. 

"We'll be home soon, baby. Just hang in there for me."

"Hurts," she pouts, and Harry's heart jumps, "Please— can I— will you?"

He swallows, quickly looking over as she wiggles around. In any other situation, he'd say no — they have a pretty firm no-touching-herself rule when he's not there, but he's never seen her drop into her little space so suddenly before. Hesitantly, he nods, stopped at a red light as he reaches up to pluck at the waistband of her leggings. 

"Does my baby just need to cum?" he asks as she quickly shimmies the material down. 

"Need you to touch me." she whines, hooking her thumbs under her panties and sliding them to the middle of her thighs.

"Okay, okay," he murmurs. The light turns green and he presses on the gas, moving his hand up to hover over her core. Even with the distance between them, he can see how much she's glistening. "Did you make a mess for daddy? Just walking around, having a nice day, and your little pussy got all wet for me?"

"Yes," she gasps, spreading her pussy lips with his fingers.

He begins to thumb at her clit, pressing small circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. She's already whimpering in her seat, eyes falling closed as she wraps her own hand around his wrist, pulling him closer. 

"F-feels so good," Y/N mewls, grinding her hips down in time with his hand.

"Such a good girl for daddy," he tries to ignore the straining in his pants as her arousal readily coats his fingers just from a few swirls around her clit. "Cum for me whenever you're ready, bunny. Show me how good you are."

Thankfully, he's turning onto his street as the knot in her core unravels, breathy whimpers and broken calls of his honorific a clear indicator that she's reached her peak. He groans as he feels her pussy contracting, back arched against the leather of the seat. 

"Fuck," he mutters, pulling into the driveway, "You're so fucking beautiful." 

She barely has a second to breathe before he throws the car in park and unbuckles her seatbelt. He grabs her face between his hands and smushes their lips together, a surprised squeak sounding from her mouth. 

"D-daddy," she gasps, her lips curling into a smile as he squeezes her hip. 

"My good girl, yeah?" he grins, breaking apart to press their foreheads to one another. "You make daddy so happy."

Y/N giggles. She's still in her floaty headspace but with one orgasm in, it's less desperate and more bubbly. A reminder of how much she adores Harry, even with the rose-tinted glasses of her little space. 

"Need more," Y/N breathes, leaning back in to peck his lips, "Please? Want your cock, want you to— to cum deep inside me."

"I know, bunny." he coos, ignoring the way his length twitches in his pants at her needy tone. He reaches up to press a kiss to her forehead. "C'mon, let's go inside. Wanna take you properly."

As soon as she nods, Harry clamors out of the car and winds around to the other side to open the door for her. With her pile of books in her hand and her flushed cheeks, evident of a recent orgasm, he intertwines their fingers together and helps her to the front door, quickly unlocking it. 

Harry's no psychiatrist or expert on the manner, but one of the most interesting parts of Y/N being in her little space is that she doesn't even necessarily realize what she's doing. They've spoken about it before and she's revealed that there have times where she's been so deep under, she doesn't have all of her memories. It's a scary thought, but in a stroke of complete and utter honesty, she's explained to him that she trusts him implicitly — to take care of her when her brain is fuzzy, to never take advantage of her or push her beyond her limits. 

Truthfully, Harry should've known then that he was in love with her.

And when she waltzes into his apartment, placing her books on the entryway table like she lives here, he's immediately wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, until her back is pressed up against his chest. She giggles out his honorific and it makes him smile into her hair — god, he loves her so much it might make him sick — before he mumbles out instructions to go upstairs to get undressed for him.

As always, she does as she's asked, ever keen on pleasing him. He gives her a moment as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, taking a deep breath and running his hand over his face. He's never felt so gone over a girl before, and he's managed to keep it together with Y/N this far — but seeing the way she slipped today and knowing it's just another way of showcasing how deeply she trusts their relationship... it's almost too much.

When he does go upstairs, he's instantly reminded of how uncomfortably hard he is. His eyes wander over her naked body, sprawled out across his bed, her feet flat on the bedding with her legs arched at the knee. She's being good — there have been times where he's found her already toying with her clit or sinking the tip of her finger in, but her hands are at her sides today.

"Good girl," Harry murmurs out as he undoes his belt, the leather falling to the floor. "Tell daddy what you want."

She hums, likely unused to getting a say in the foreplay of their scenes. He realizes that she may not know how to answer, so he attempts to help her along.

"Do you wanna be plugged in your bum? Tied up? Edged?" he asks, clad only in his briefs as he places a knee on the bed and wraps a hand around her ankle. "Tell me why daddy's girl needs."

"Want a plug, please," she says softly, allowing him to stretch her legs out, "Just... just wanna be filled."

"Filled, hm?" he teases lightly, reaching under the bed to rifle through the small box of sex toys. She had a bit of a collection of plugs at home, so she'd brought over a few to keep at his place a month or so back (that had been an interesting day, when he thought she had books or extra clothes in her tote bag only to be met with toys). He pulls out the smallest one since, if he's being honest, the need to be inside her is overwhelming, and he doesn't know how long he can play with her ass before he loses his mind.

"Flip onto your tummy, angel girl." he instructs as he pulls his tee and sweatshirt off. She silently does as she's told, pressing her cheek into one of Harry's pillows. She's instantly flooded with scents of his shampoo and cologne, woody and musky and intensely comforting, and it makes her squeeze her thighs together. 

Everything about him makes her warm and gooey inside, as if she's coming to the one place — or person — that always feels like home, no matter how awful of a day she's had. Akin to struggling through a snowstorm, the chill pinging through her body and down to her bones; when she's with Harry, it's like being served her favorite bowl of warm soup and being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dryer.

Harry is her home.

She's floating through this revelation when he pushes her ass cheeks apart, a soft gasp sounding from her mouth when he runs a lubed fingertip around the ring of muscles. 

"Such a pretty hole," he murmurs, and she whimpers when she feels him spit, the saliva landing on her asshole, "Love filling you up, you know that? Every last one of these gorgeous holes."

She moans when he fits his finger inside, pushing it all the way to the knuckle. He knows she's experienced with anal so he doesn't feel like he has to be as precious about the process, knowing that she adores the sensation.

"Too bad daddy'll never share you with anyone though. No one will ever get to see how your ass and pussy squeeze around me... that's just for daddy, isn't it?"

Y/N muffles through a moan and he tuts as he pushes a second finger in. 

"That's not an answer, bunny. Try again."

She shutters out a sigh and slowly blinks her eyes open, trying her to best not to be overwhelmed by him stretching her out. 

"'s just for you, daddy."

"What is, angel?"

"My holes, daddy."

"Good girl," he mumbles, withdrawing his fingers. His cock twitches as he watches her ass gape ever so slightly, the loss of anything inside instantly making her feel empty. It's quickly over, though, because he's rubbing the tip of the lubed plug over her hole. "Deep breath, sweetheart, you know the drill."

Despite doing this numerous times, the stretch never quite gets old for Y/N. (Admittedly, Harry never tires of the view, either.) When her muscles swallow up the thick of the plug, revealing the pink bejeweled end, he groans, tapping it lightly.

"Does that feel better, baby?" 

"Uh-huh."

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, daddy."

He smirks and gently pats the backs of her thighs, a wordless gesture to flip back over. She does, her eyelashes fluttering at the feeling of the plug slightly wiggling inside of her, pressing deep against her walls. 

She leans up onto her elbows, watching as he palms his length through the material of his underwear. With wide eyes, she looks up at him, trying to ignore the way she can feel her arousal dripping down the inside of her thighs, making a sticky mess.

"What, bunny? Why are you looking at me like you're expecting something?"

Y/N pouts and Harry has to try not to smirk down at her. 

"Use your words, angel."

Her pout deepens. They both know what she wants — her pussy is all but screaming for attention — and it's embarrassing to have to admit it. She adores the way he knows her body, but he's clearly feeling just a little meaner tonight by making her verbalize all of the filthy things running through her brain. 

"Want you here, daddy." She mumbles cutely, bucking her hips up slightly. He hums and uses a finger to stroke over her mound, down to her crease where her juices are steadily collecting. 

"Here?" He asks mockingly, teasing her folds with light movements. It's not enough for her to receive any pleasure, instead just causing her to wiggle around as she attempts to guide him to her pulsating hole. 

"Inside," she all but huffs, and he chuckles, removing his touch altogether. 

"Ah, where'd my good girl go?" He smirks, "You know that's not how you ask. Plus, if you keep squirming around like this, I'll have to tie you up."

Her stomach clenches at the thought; he's always more keen on edging her until she's crying when he ties her up. She's not in the mood for that tonight — she already feels like he's been edging her by refusing to give into her — so she puffs out a breath, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

"Want you in my pussy, please." 

"That's all you had to say, baby," Harry murmurs. She wants to roll her eyes but she knows she'll only get spanked for it, so she nods, reveling in the sensation of his hands back on her as he separates her lips, a cooing sound forming from the back of his throat at his eyes gaze over her swollen pussy. "You have a filthy little pussy. Did you know that, bunny?"

She shakes her head. 

"Don't lie to daddy," he utters, delivering a swift slap to her clit. It makes her gasp, the quick sting that's gone just as quickly as it came. "You wouldn't be begging for my cock all the time if you didn't."

Some form of an "uh huh" leaves her mouth and he chuckles. Slowly, his fingertip trails down her crease and to the place she needs him most, circling her hole once before pushing in. Her back arches and her eyes squeeze closed, immediately grateful to finally receive something. 

"You'll take anything I give you, won't you?" Harry continues as he pumps his finger, "My fingers, my tongue. My cock, of course. Even my cum — made you daddy's little cumslut, didn't I?"

She moans loudly and nods her head, her hair forming messy knots at the friction. 

"L-love it," she stutters, the knot in her stomach winding up tightly, "Love feeling your cum inside me, daddy."

"I know you do." He purrs, pushing another finger in. "Bet you'd let me get you all swollen with it if I wanted. Carrying my baby around like the little slut you are."

They're both too wound up to even realize what he's said. They've never breached this territory before, never even considered if a future was in the cards for them. But Y/N's already whining over it before Harry has a chance to second guess himself, her pussy squeezing his fingers rapidly; a telltale sign that her peak is but a few moments away. 

"I would, I would," she chants as she pants loudly, "Fuck— fuck, I'm yours, daddy, I—"

Her words are cut off by the throaty moan that parts her lips, the rope in her core finally splitting. It's so much, so good, her muscles contracting around his fingers as he works her through it, never ceasing his praises. 

"There's my girl."

"So fucking beautiful for me."

"God, I got so lucky with you. Fuck."

Her pussy is drooling over his hand now, leaking down to the plug still firmly inside of her. He bites his lip at the visual, her hole still throbbing in haphazard pulses as he frees his cock from the confides of his underwear, desperate to feel her. 

With fluttering eyes, she blinks her eyelashes open as she watches him, her mind filled with fuzzy static. She doesn't even realize she's leaked spit out of her mouth until he smiles gently, using soft fingertips to wipe it away.

"Already cock dumb, sweetheart?"

She nods.

"Can you take more, or are you done? Squeeze my hand if you want to be done."

She doesn't — although her mind is bleary and struggling to string together coherent thoughts, the idea of not having Harry inside of her seems terrible. She can tell he looks concerned (his eyebrows are knit together ever so slightly as he strokes up and down her arm, waiting for her to say her safe word), but she has no plans of breaking now.

"More," her mouth finally forms around the syllables, pushing it out hoarsely, "Can do it."

"Yeah?" he asks through raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Again, she nods. Hesitantly, he shimmies up the length of her body, knees pressed into the comforter with his length hot and heavy in his palm. 

"You know what to do if it's too much. Safe word or squeeze my hand three times."

And then finally — finally — after what seems like hours of teasing and edging (and, quite frankly, it could have been hours; Y/N's too foggy to know), he pushes his cock inside of her and everything feels right. So right, so good, so perfect. 

Her jaw drops open and she leans her head against the crook of his neck, his own groans filling the otherwise quiet room. They're not typically this silent, especially when he first enters her — she's usually whimpering and he's teasing her, calling her a dog in heat or something along those lines — but it's just so... fulfilling, and satisfying, that she can't even put it into words.

When he builds up to a steady pace, mewls begin to break free from her throat, her eyes rolling back as she lays down against the pillows again. He leans back onto his heels and pushes her thighs up against her knees, looping his arms around them to keep her there. He's far deeper that way — they can both feel it — and he gets the prettiest views of her fucked out face and plugged up ass. 

"Shit — you're so good, my fuckin' girl."

Too hazy to answer, she just nods, echoing his words. "Your girl."

"Yeah? Gonna take my cum, sweetheart? Want me to fuck it deep into you?"

"P-please," she babbles, reaching down between their bodies to play with her clit, "Want— want your babies, wanna be yours, please daddy."

"My sweet girl wants to be a mama?" he's clenching down his teeth so harshly he's nervous he may break something, "I'll give you anything, baby, pump my cum so deep in your womb you won't even remember your fuckin' name."

Chants of please, please, please are all that can leave her at this point, deft fingers rolling over her clit as she feels her third orgasm rapidly approaching. He knows it, too, and he groans at the sensation of her pussy clenching over his cock.

"Cum for me one more time and I'll do it. My fertile little pussy, hm? Pretty fucking girl gonna be the prettiest mama."

That's all it takes for her to explode around him, this time gushing out clear bursts of liquid. He groans and curses, the sight instantly sending him to his own edge. In the back of his mind, he knows that squirting all over his torso and legs will put her to the final brink of exhaustion, and he's internally grateful that he can let go and make good on his promise to her.

So, he does. He finishes deep inside her, pushing his hips all the way up against her bum as his balls throb and empty, fucking his cum as far as it'll go. They're a mess of liquids and sweat and they both know it's gross, but there's not a single place either one of them would rather be.

When her eyelashes flitter open and she looks up at him, an exhausted smile forming on her lips, he swears he's never seen anything more beautiful.

. . .

"What are your plans for the holidays?"

Harry raises his eyebrows as he spoons some more miso soup into his mouth. It's a gloomy Saturday evening, with the temperatures finally dropping down to appropriate autumnal climates. Y/N came over this morning to pick up a book he recommended for her, but — as if either one hadn't expected it — ended up staying all day, basking in the cozy glory of Harry's apartment. They snuggled up on the couch, watching Jeopardy reruns, taking turns napping and retrieving snacks and drinks for the other.

"Well," he clears his throat, "I'm not American so I don't really celebrate Thanksgiving. And Christmas is a bit far away, so I'm not sure. Why?"

She shrugs, pulling her knees up to her chest. "My sister was asking if I'm coming home for Thanksgiving."

"Ah. Are you?"

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Why? Isn't it coming up?"

She nods her head, occupying her fingers with a loose thread at the end of Harry's tee shirt that she had thrown over her body.

"Yeah. I just... I don't know if it's stupid, but I was curious about what you were doing. Before I made any decisions."

Harry's heart thumps in his chest, his entire body warming at her taking his plans into consideration. 

"That's sweet of you, baby. Hadn't really thought about it, though."

Again, she nods, and he thinks that may be the end of the conversation. He doesn't want to impose, especially since he thinks he's been doing particularly well with the whole not-confessing-his-love thing, so he unmutes the TV and directs his attention back to the screen.

"Wait!" she blurts out, and he mutes it again through furrowed brows, "What if you... like, came with me?"

"For Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah," she bites her lip, nerves apparent on her face, "It's no pressure, my sister's hosting just 'cos she just bought a house with her girlfriend and they have two dogs that are really cute, and my dad might be there but he's not one of those weird hover-y dads that care about who I bring around, not that he wouldn't care but it would be weird to have to explain how we met, and my mom is probably spending it with my step-dad so it'll be pretty low-key, and—"

"Y/N." Harry cuts her off with a smirk before setting his bowl of soup down on the table. "Breathe. You're gonna pass out, I've never heard you talk so fast."

She takes a deep breath and he smiles, murmuring out a good as he turns to face her.

"I would love to come and celebrate Thanksgiving with you. That sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me."

"Really?"

"Of course," he replies easily. "I love any time we spend together."

Her cheeks warm and she nods, as if she's convincing herself he's being truthful. 

"Um... so, like, how should I introduce you?" she asks, and there are so many butterflies swarming Harry's stomach that he doesn't know if he can get any words out. 

"Well... how would you like to introduce me?"

She shrugs her shoulders and rolls her lips into her mouth. "I mean, I don't know... maybe, like..."

And then she mumbles something, but it's so low that he can't hear a thing.

"I didn't hear that."

She repeats it, and Harry lets out a laugh when he still doesn't understand her.

"Baby, speak up. I can't hear you."

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyboyfriend."

"What?"

"WhatifIsaidyouweremyBOYFRIEND."

"Y/N, seriously, I don't know—"

"Boyfriend!" she exclaims, "What if I said you were my boyfriend?"

He can't fight the grin that breaks out onto his face, especially given her wide, exasperated eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of teasing her.

"Is this you asking me to be your boyfriend?" 

She groans and goes to rise from the couch, only to be quickly brought back down by Harry. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her towards him as his chest vibrates with laughter.

"Ask me properly."

She huffs, twisting in his lap. Swallowing nervously, she looks down, and he intertwines their fingers together. 

"Harry... would you want to be my boyfriend?" she peers up at him through her eyelashes and he smiles that big, dimpled smile that she loves, and realizes she has nothing to worry about.

"I would love nothing more than to be your boyfriend." 

He decides to save the I-love-you confession for another day, because he wants nothing more than to do things properly with her.

But when a matching toothy grin appears on her face, he mentally amends the one thing he got wrong about her: This is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader | 18+

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Word Count: 10k

A SPECIAL HAPPY BIRTHDAY POST. (I’m 28 y’all)

Chapter contains: brief pregnant!reader, babies/kids…this is like a lil collection of blurbs. I have some head canons about each OC I can post if you’d like xoxo

I had ideas about their kids for ages, lol. This crazy lil family is chaotic

Still thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you and @bebe07011 for without you two this fic wouldn’t nearly be this good

Third trimester is a bitch. I barely have the bandwidth to write lately. I hope you enjoy

Two pink little lines stare back at you as Eddie turns the shower on, completely oblivious to the manic state you’re in.  

He offers you to join him, a temptation you decline with an intense amount of reluctance. You just claim you need your own bed, which was true.  

Eddie missed four weeks of work while you were on your luxe honeymoon, which means he now has several fires to put out. It keeps him busy for the week, making the doctor’s appointments and blood work you do that much easier when he passes right out on his couch at the end of his long days.  

The following week, knowing you're pregnant but not being able to tell him is pure torture. It doesn't help that for some odd reason Eddie seems more lovey, more affectionate. Your first instinct is to chalk it up to your newlywed status, but his affection feels different, the way his arms wrap around you each morning to wake you up, his gentle voice low in your ear. It's driving you up a wall not being able to share your secret with him.  

He seems to consistently have a hard time letting you go to leave for work (not that you’re complaining.) Though eventually you have to practically push him out the door.   

The ultrasound is nearly dull, the implantation in question is only a bundle of cells, but once you get a photo from the tech at the end of the appointment, it’s the very thing you needed to tell Eddie.  

After another early night of falling asleep you empty the face of the fridge, yanking every magnet off as you place the sonogram on the silver surface with a pink heart magnet right at his eye level.

-  

Eddie wakes in the middle of the night, a sudden urge to rise hitting him out of nowhere. His arm tightens around your waist, admiring your pretty face as he kisses your cheek. Your face falters only the littlest bit, twitching your muscles to shake off the tickle of his stubble.   

He finds himself starving, craving something only a feral racoon would also be satisfied with. He rubs his eyes as he walks down the steps. Sometimes he thinks he’s going to see you back in the kitchen chair in the dress and bathing suit, Dylan searching manically for a parking pass as if Eddie has imagined this whole dream scenario. Your love is just too good not to think he’d made it all up at times. He smiles to himself as he turns on the stove light, turning to the fridge for a snack.   

He feels frozen by the blank fridge at first, wondering where all the magnets got to. The black and white image staring him dead in the face suddenly registers, the heart shaped magnet falling to the floor as he rushes to pick it up to make sure his tired eyes aren’t fucking with him. They bulge out of his head when the significance of the photo occurs to him, and the hunger that woke him up seems to vanish.

His long legs take the stairs two and three at a time as he rushes back to you, hurling himself beneath the covers.   

The cold of his arms startles you, a gasp leaving your lips from the shock as you abruptly awoke. “Hmm?”  

“Are you fucking pregnant, sweetheart?” His eyes are unbearably soft, melted pools of milk chocolate staring intently at you.

A burst of sleepy giggles leaves your mouth, turning your body so you don't have to crane your neck. “You got up early.” You comment, weaving your fingers into his curls.   

“Skip the pleasantries, love.” He dismisses, scooping his arms beneath your back. “Are you fucking pregnant?”   

You pull him in for a kiss, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him down against you. “What’s the sonogram tell you?”    

He chuckles against your lips, his thumbs swaying against your smiling cheeks. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” You nod, absentmindedly playing with his curls. “Fuck, I’m so excited right now, baby.”   

“Really?” You ask him, grinning.   

“I just found out my wife is having my baby. Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, rutting his hips against yours desperately. “I’m rock hard, sweets.”   

Lucky for you and him, you opted for a pair of tiny panties and a t-shirt to bed, feeling his hardened cock against the thin lace fabric of your panties. Your fingers fumble to his boxers, hurriedly pushing them down his hips. “Then fuck me.”   

Eddie gently pulls the fabric aside, exposing it as his head perfectly brushes against your entrance. “God, my girl is soaked for me, ain’t she?”   

Your thighs tighten around his hips, jaw dropping as he teases you. “Want you, please, Ed.” Your eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against you 

He pushes in, arms wrapping themselves around your torso. “Oh my god you’re having my fucking baby,” Eddie mumbles, face curling into your neck. “Gonna see your stomach all big when you’re carrying my baby, sweets, and you’ll be even hotter than you are now. Which I thought was impossible.”   

No words come to mind, mouth open and gasping at the way he moves in you. The cotton of your shirt is too hot, your hands shakily grabbing at the fabric to take it off. Eddie admires the sight he sees as your piqued nipples fall out of his faded black t-shirt, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at them. A moth drawn to the light, he dives into one, curling his tongue around the nipple with the perfect mix of teeth, pulling little mewls from you.  

“Fuck, we’re gonna be the happiest little family,” he chokes, kissing from your breast up to your neck, his voice filled with emotion.  

“Love you,” you sigh, gasping into his open mouth as his hips hit you harder.  

Eddie smiles, a wicked little grin as his hand curves over the swell of your tummy, thumb petting it gently.  

“Hold on to me, sweetheart. Hold on to your baby daddy,” you grin the line, wonderfully cheesy, but Eddie feels the way you tighten around him. Your arms curl around his back, pulling his body against yours.  

“Eddie, make me cum, please.” 

“Hold on, baby, I’m almost there, hold on,” he stutters, his deep voice starting to falter. His lips bend down to your ear, gasping desperately, bordering on whining. “Fuck– cum with me.”  

His lips wrap around yours, delicately connecting his tongue with yours as his hips stutter a final time, the little moans vibrating against your lips as he fills you up. As you collapse on the bed, sweaty bodies intertwined, he spends the twenty minutes until he falls asleep cooing, whispering in your ear how excited he is.  

You wake up the same way, with rounds two and three before he begrudgingly trudges off to work. 

- 

The sun accounts as a natural alarm clock as Dylan stretches his limbs wide, turning to face his girlfriend. His arm falls over Maya’s form, pulling her in as he starts to wake up. “Morning, Dylan,” she whispers, her pink lips spreading into a smile.  

He pulls her back against his stomach, hiking his legs under hers. “Mornin’.”  

She hums as he kisses the back of her neck, giggling as he takes a deep inhale of her shampoo. “You work today?”  

“No,” Dylan answers, caressing the strip of her exposed skin with his thumb. “I am seeing my dad today.”  

She smirks, turning to face him. “And your stepmom?” Dylan grits his teeth, tickling her stomach until she begs him to stop, hunching over the arm around her. “Okay, I’m sorry!”    

“Mmhm. I’m telling them, did you want to join me?”  

Maya squishes her face, seemingly debating on pros and cons. “I’m gonna pass on that, respectfully.” She can feel the questioning look Dylan gives her. “I have a long shift today, and I am exhausted.”  

“Next time, I’m dragging you with me,” Dylan insists, squeezing with his arms wrapped around her.  

“I’m counting on it.”  

As soon as Dylan opens the door, he listens in, waiting for a sound that never comes. Good, he waited long enough to come. He wanders into the kitchen, meeting his dad drinking orange juice straight from the carton. “Dad?”  

His dad freezes, removing the spout from his mouth, and wipes his face hurriedly. “Hey bud.”  

Dylan raises his eyebrow at him, pointedly glancing to the carton and back to him.  

“Don’t tell my wife.”  

Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of the devil, where is she?”  

“Upstairs.”  

As if your ears are burning, the two men’s ears pick up the particular sound of someone coming down the stairs. Eddie prays you come downstairs with some clothes on. Your face lights up when you see Dylan, welcoming him into your arms without a second thought. “Dylan!” The familiarity you two share is still new, but wrapping him in a hug is like second nature at this point. “What brings you into this part of the world?”  

You leave the embrace, backing straight into Eddie’s arm. “Actually, I have some news I wanna share with you guys.”  

Eddie’s hand tightens around your arm, he’s mentioned Dylan talking about proposing last month, and this news felt right around the corner. He feigns ignorance, innocently asking, “Oh, what news would that be?”  

Dylan’s cheeks bloom in red, glancing down to his feet sheepishly. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to travel to a destination wedding while largely pregnant. “Uh, we–or, Maya,” he clears his throat, a laugh stuttering through it, “Maya’s pregnant.”  

The first thing you do is glance at your husband, both sporting wide eyes and slacked jaws. To say you’re surprised is a grand understatement.  

“Not the news you were expecting?” Dylan asks, watching the two of you share a silent conversation.  

In sync, the two of you switch back to him, twin smiles on your faces. Dylan had no idea what either of the faces in front of him could possibly mean, and there’s a part of him that wonders if this is happy news for either of you.  

“Um, no, actually,” Eddie barely holds back the sound of laughter in his voice. “That’s, that’s fantastic news, Dyl.” Truly, fantastic news. Eddie has been looking forward to being a biker grandfather since Dylan showed interest in being a father.  

You smirk, leaning into his shoulder. “How far along is she?”  

“Uh, 8 weeks, or so,” Dylan answers, squishing up his face comically.  

“Oh wow, so a week behind me, then,” you say nonchalantly, nodding at Eddie.  

“Wait, what?” Dylan asks, making sure he understood that correctly.  

You giggle, nodding as you sit your head in Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, I’m pregnant too, ironically enough.”  

Eddie leans into your ear, “So you’re gonna be a mom and a grandma in the same year…”  

Your eyes widen. “To think, I was just getting used to the idea of being a mom.” You lean back, meeting your husband’s pretty brown eyes. “Are we sure the kid’s gonna call me grandma?”  

Dylan picks up the conversation right away. “I mean, unless we’re gonna be completely honest with them, it doesn't make sense otherwise. You’re grandpa’s wife, therefore grandma.”  

Am I mom, then, too? You think to yourself, knowing you’ll point it out later. Your stomach rumbles, turning around to the counter to start making a breakfast of sorts. Your eyes hit the open orange juice jug and the lack of cup. “Did you drink straight out of the carton, again, mister?”  

Eddie avoids your eyes, looking at his son. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he surrenders, having a seat at the island.  

“How’s Maya been handling the pregnancy so far?” you ask, grabbing a pan from under the cupboards. “Because morning sickness is no joke.” You pause, leaning on the counter. “Not just in the morning, either.”  

“I think it’s some nausea, a bit of acid reflux, but to my knowledge she hasn’t been sick,” Dylan says, taking out his phone to text Maya about the news.  

“Bitch,” you mutter, the tone in your voice clear you’re joking. “We can’t all be so lucky. Eggs?”  

Dylan nods, grinning at the text Maya shoots back. “So dad, you’re gonna have a kid and a grandkid the same age as each other?”  

Eddie shrugs, taking another large sip from the carton. “Since my girl showed up, my life hasn’t been normal, and this just means it will never be normal again.”  

“You’re welcome,” Dylan laughs, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look you shoot at him.  

- 

Dylan’s phone buzzes, glancing at the unknown number as Maya fades in the middle of her sentence. “One minute, babe, I’m expecting a call from the interview I just did last week. Dylan Munson, speaking.”  

“Oh, Dyl-pickle, you sound so big!” Only one person has ever called Dylan that. He gulps, the sound of her voice bringing up old, sore emotions.

“Brooke. W-why are you calling me?”  

“Brooke? C’mon, I’m your mom, sweetheart,” she whines, her voice the sound of nails on a chalkboard.  

“Really, are you?” Dylan asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace the hallway, his anger already building. “Ok, what college did I go to?” Silence. “What did I major in? What year did I graduate high school? When did I have my first kiss? Who’s my current girlfriend? What’s my best friend’s name? What sort of vehicle do I drive?”  

She doesn’t answer a single question, instead giving stuttered empty answers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer any of that… We haven’t exactly been talking for the last fifteen years.” She says, somewhat accusatory.

Dylan sighs, rubbing his face frustratedly. “What, your phone didn’t work all those years?”  

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not the only one who had a phone,” she protests, sounding incredibly defensive. 

“Yeah, well, you also weren’t a child for 8 of those years who begged his dad for his mom to come to one thing that was important to him,” Dylan retaliated, angry at her gaslighting. “My dad had your number, always left voicemails inviting you to my soccer games, to award ceremonies, to my birthdays, and you never answered a single call, let alone showed up.”  

“I’m sorry, Dylan, I am, but I was young then, you can’t blame me for wanting a fresh start.” 

“Actually, I can,” Dylan answers, now done with this conversation. “You had eight years to be a mom before I finally gave up on you. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be my mom, now.”    

“I’m sorry that hurt your feelings, Dyl. But I have two boys, and they really want to meet their older brother. Would you come down for lunch one day?”  

He nods, knowing that this sudden need to be a mom again wasn’t going to come for free. “No. I have no interest in being your life. Not since the day I turned 18.”  

“C’mon, Dyl–” 

“No, mom–Brooke. No. Don’t call me again, please. I need to go now.”  

She starts another sentence, but Dylan hangs up on her before he hears it. When he walks into the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend, he crawls into the bed next to her, feeling like the ten year old whose life got torn apart.  

It looks like Brooke still has that uncanny talent for making everything about her.  

- 

Eddie sits in his office, a small room decorated with frames filled with the faces of those he loves and papers strewn around the desk. He’s going over the receipts and payments, and silently regrets not having hired an accountant by now, but he’s far too stubborn to admit it.  

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie looks up in relief. Please, let there be a disgruntled customer to save him from the numbers. “Come on in!”  

Connor, one of the new apprentices he hired only a few months ago comes in, looking timid. The first few months he has a new hire they’re usually shy, and when their self confidence in their ability to do their job kicks in, Eddie truly starts to miss it. “Uh, hey, boss, there’s a client out there who wants to speak to you.”  

Eddie chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on his desk. “Don’t, don’t call me boss. What do they want?” 

Connor screws up his face. “Uh, I forgot to ask.”  

“Always ask, man. Tell them I’ll be right out.”  

“Alright, I’ll tell her.” Eddie sighs in relief, women tend to be more understanding.  

“Hey, send in Joe, will ya?”  

“On it!”  

Joe, a man who’s worked for Eddie for 20 years, older by ten years, walks into the office just a moment later. “What’s up, Ed?”  

“Give the lady a talk, will ya?” Eddie asks, scratching the itch on his right forearm. “Ask her what she wants.” Joe, tall, dark, and quiet, nods and shuts the door.  

He’s back in the office in seconds. The door’s loose knob has barely clicked shut before it’s abruptly opened again. “That fast?”  

Joe shakes his head, his eyes wide with a grimace on his face. “Uh, no, it’s…it’s Brooke.”  

Eddie scrunches his face up. “Brooke, like…Brooke?”  

“Yeah. You want me to–” 

“No it’s okay, I got it,” Eddie insists, a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. He rubs his face tiredly, fully unprepared to deal with this. 

“Dude, you sure?” He asks, having been with Eddie through the divorce.  

“Seriously, I got it. Thanks, man.”  

Eddie gets up from his desk, catching the eyes of his long-time employees on his way to the entrance of the garage. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.  

There she stands, looking around the garage holding her purse with two hands. She’s dressed like one of those Instagram moms, high waisted jeans with a loose blouse tucked in under a long coat. Her eyes land on him, her face lighting up as she exclaims, “Wow, the garage looks great!” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sighing. “Is there a particular reason for…”  

Brooke smiles, and Eddie could almost see a genuine human behind the mask. “Um, do you mind if we go into your office?”  

Eddie raises his brows, perplexed. “I really don’t see the necessity for it.”  

“It’s not really a conversation to have in front of the guys, Eds,” Brooke comments, shuffling her feet as she crosses her arms.  

Eddie winces at the nickname she calls him. She really doesn’t know him well enough to call him such anymore. The audacity of it astounds him. “I’m not Eds to you…and my office holds things that are precious to me, that I honestly want to keep out of this conversation.”  

“Like I haven’t already seen pictures of your little wife,” Brooke grimaces, her tone switching from sweet to condescending in a split second, her eyes rolling. “Congrats on that, or whatever.”  

Eddie blinks, too exhausted to argue. “Alright, come on.”  

It's not like Brooke hasn’t been in his office before, Eddie thinks, they were happily married, after all. She looks around at the changes, her eyes seemingly fixated on where photos of Dylan’s previous achievements are proudly displayed. “Wow, he looks just like you,” Brooke mutters, a look on her face that Eddie can’t quite place.  

Eddie assessed the bulletin, Dylan’s graduation, first school dance, the Munsons spending a weekend at the Harrington’s, it certainly spelled out to her what she missed out on.  

He clears his throat, quietly asking for her to continue. “Right, um, I was wondering if you could talk to our son.” 

“Our son?” Eddie asks, barely holding back his laughter. “Last time I checked you said he was my son.”  

Brooke ignores it, faltering in her seat. “I tried calling him last week, but he shut me down.”  

“What do you need me to talk to him about exactly?” Eddie leans against his desk, his hands gripping the edge.

Brooke blinks, tilting her head. “When did you cut your hair?”  

“Irrelevant. What do you need me to talk to him about?” Eddie enunciates, already feeling the exhaustion of her mere soul sucking presence.

“My sons are asking questions about him, and they would like to meet him.” She inhales, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, “I would love to reconnect with both of you, honestly.” 

Like an anvil, Eddie feels his stomach pull him all the way down into the floor. The silence she’s given him and Dylan for the last fifteen years has been stable, reliable even. The most reliable thing about her. This is turning off the road into a ditch with nothing to instigate it. “What did he say?”  

“Uh, he had no interest in it,” Brooke shrugs, leaning back in her seat.  

Eddie nods, having expected it. “Brooke, those pictures on the wall? My son spent so much time begging me to call and get you to at least one event, one time just to show that you still cared about him.” He pauses, watching her avoid his eyes. “I left dozens of voicemails in your inbox, and I know it was your inbox, because I remember the day it went from Munson to Prescott. I begged you to show up. Just once. The last time I did was for his graduation, but by then I had stopped telling him.”  

“He told our lawyers and the judge he wanted nothing to do with me. Forgive me if I thought he was telling the truth,” Brooke huffs, her voice sounding defensive.  

“He was a child, Brooke!” Eddie deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “A child hurt by his mother’s actions tearing apart his happy family. Staying with the stable parent was probably the more appealing option.” He scratches at the stubble on his face, glancing over to the sonogram sitting on his desk. He’d hoped Brooke hadn’t caught wind of that news, yet. “At first, he was really hurt, but after a while, he just wanted his mom. Who never showed up.” 

“Well, I might be a little late, but doesn’t it count for something that I’m trying, now?” She asks, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I think it counts more that he’s about to be a father and he has no interest in including you in his kid’s life.”  

Her eyes bug right out of her head. “Wait, what?”  

“Mmhm. Seems he’d rather give what was supposed to be your title to someone he’s known for less than a year.” Eddie flickers to the photo of you he has framed, a portrait of you surrounded by the sunset in your wedding dress. “You had eight years, Brooke. Eight. You don’t get to decide to be a parent when it’s convenient for you. I never had that luxury. I had to pick myself and my son up and find a way to get through it emotionally without falling apart at the seams.”  

She seems to start talking, but Eddie is on a roll. “I finally feel like I’m living my life, and not just surviving. If you reached out five years ago, I probably would’ve said yes. I even had a low enough self-esteem to hope it would mean something more…but now I have this woman, this beautiful person who showed me how much she believes I’m worth, showed me how much I am worth. Brooke, no offense, but when I look back on it, especially comparing the two, you treated me like shit.”  

“Uh, okay,” Brooke mutters, holding her hand out. “I did not treat you like shit.”  

“You never stuck up for me with your parents, forced me to do things I was uncomfortable with all the time, gave ‘our’ son’s teachers hell all the time, and, oh yeah, left me for the person you told me not to worry about. So, no I will not be talking to my son. If he comes to the conclusion to reconnect with you, then fine. But I will not be participating.”  

“Wow, you’re being harsh.” Brooke complains, grimacing. “Eddie, I was young. I made a few stupid decisions.”  

“You know, my wife is a bit young. Somehow, she already knows not to act like a stone cold cunt.”  Brooke stutters through an empty response, completely rendered speechless. “I think we’re done here.”  

“I’m not done!”  

“Well, I suggest you be by the time my pregnant wife gets here, because she’s not your biggest fan.” It gives him the utmost satisfaction to start looking through the papers. He glances back up to her expectant expression. “Safe travels back to Boston, hmm?”  

Eddie swears the smile on your face in the photo of you grows, glad the backbone he needed seems to have finally grown. “You’re not going to even–”  

“No. I’m not. I’m done here, Brooke. Give Kevin my condolences, yeah?”  

Brooke nods, reluctantly understanding she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. Eddie had indeed grown the self-confidence she never saw when she was with him. “Condolences?” 

“Yeah, for still being stuck with you. Close the door on your way out.”  

Brooke’s nostrils flare, her jaw locking. She turns around without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the garage as she storms out, every click of her heel enunciated.  

Moments later, Joe pops through the door. “Everything, ok, Ed?”  

Eddie looks up, his dimples pronounced on his face. “Oh just, peachy, Joe. Mind if I take off for the rest of the day?”  

“I would be concerned if you didn’t, man.”  

- 

The ringing of your phone stirs you from your slumber, having passed out on the couch mid snack. An app you downloaded on your phone for the pregnancy said the first trimester would have you feeling quite sleepy, and you didn’t believe it until you find yourself constantly falling asleep during your off days, and exhausted at work when you really shouldn’t be.  

Your sister’s name lights up the screen, and the quick assessment of the movie tells you you’ve been asleep for at least forty-five minutes. “Hey, Viti.”  

“Hey, sis,” she greets, an airy tone in her voice. “Sounds like you just woke up.”  

You haven’t broken the news to your family, yet, waiting to present the information in the form of a present next time you and Eddie make your way over to your parents’ house. “Had an afternoon siesta,” you sigh, watching the movie you’re tempted to restart. The twist of Carlisle’s death just isn’t the same if you don’t build up to it. “What’s up?” 

She sighs, a habit you’re all too familiar with. “Spit it out.”  

“Okay,” she starts, gaining her courage. “Me and Arlo got together the night of your wedding.”  

If you were attempting to get rid of any sense of sleep, it disappeared within a second. The information takes a second to register, eyes darting around the living room filled with wrappers you have yet to throw out. “Harrington?”  

She laughs, probably expecting a much worse answer. “Do you know any other Arlos?”  

“Guess not.” You pet the bangs in your eyes away from your face, trying to remind yourself of the look on your baby sister’s face when she was slow dancing with him. “Ok. How did it happen?” 

“You’re okay with this?” She asks, your heart melting at how little her voice sounds.  

“It was never my choice, Vi,” you answer, using the remote to restart the movie. “If you like him and trust him, then, yeah, I’m okay with it. So how did it happen? Tell me all about it. But if you’ve slept with him, then maybe not all about it,” You chuckle. Viti sighs exasperatedly and you can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

“Um, so we were kind of flirting a lot after the family dinner. I thought he was just being nice, but I was willing to be his friend. It got a bit more intense at the wedding, and he asked me to dance…”  

“I saw,” you admit, granted you only saw because Eddie pointed it out to you. “What happened after that?”  

You can hear the smile on her face. “He led me to a hallway, and then we went to the hotel room I was staying in…” She trails off sheepishly. Oh, that's all you need to know.  

“Damn, girl!” you laugh, opting to push away the mental image and simply be your sister's friend right now.  

“We went to dinner last week,” she says, a giggle laced through her sentence. “I really, really like him.”  

It had to be Arlo Harrington. “Then I’m really, really happy for you. Have you told everyone else yet?”  

“You’re the last to know, to be honest. I think Eddie even knows at this point.” You roll your eyes, because of course that’s why he was so peculiar this morning.  

“Just because I don’t necessarily approve of the choice of boy doesn’t mean I won’t be happy for you. Plus, I could get used to him, after all, Steve isn’t so bad.” That’s a damn lie, Steve Harrington has become one of your favorite people. “Tell me you got out of the hotel room before mom and dad discovered you.”  

“We heard them coming down the hall…” she says, giggling. “We were dressed as they were about to come in the door. Luckily, they were both pretty drunk, so they didn’t really catch on to what was happening. Well, until the next morning at brunch, I guess.”  

Note, send a text to your mom asking about what her perspective was, because there’s a chance she knew more than she let on. You think to yourself.

“Anyway, four weeks in Cancun. Spare me the dirty details but tell me all about it,” she giggles, moving the phone away from her face, “shut up, stop, shut up!’ 

“Let me guess. Arlo?”  

A burst of giggles runs through her body and you can hear the smile on her face. “Maybe,”

“You couldn’t wait until you were alone?”  

“She’s not really alone all that much these days,” Arlo’s voice rings out. You can picture the smug smirk on his face.  

“Arlo!” She chides him, and yeah, this might not be so bad, you decide.  

“I’m gonna let you two go,” you offer, dismissing any protests she let out. “Also, without the dirty details there’s not much of the honeymoon to tell. Well, except one thing.”  

“What?” 

“You'll have someone new to meet in seven months!”  

“No way!” 

- 

If there’s one thing you know, it’s Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years is the song for the last credit scene of the Twilight Series. As each character is shown with the corresponding credit, it gets closer and closer to the main cast.  

It might just be the hormones, but this round of credits just seems to hit differently, tears spilling down your cheeks as it gets to the Cullen family. The front door to the house slams shut, announcing the arrival of your husband. Odd, he’s about three hours early.  

The weight of the cushion next to you sinks down with a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your head falls easily into his embrace, curling into his lap as you sniffle. It’s ridiculous, the irrational reaction that takes over you, but damn do the editors know how to elicit a reaction out of the audience.  

His hand pets your shoulder, kissing your forehead. “You crying at Twilight?”  

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. “Lose the smug attitude, mister. This is your doing.”  

He laughs under his breath, petting your hair. “Hmm, that’s not how I remember our honeymoon.”  

You tilt your head back to look at his face, fretting at the curls that are starting to resemble closer to a mullet. “Just because I begged for your babies does not mean you had to listen to me.”  

He rolls his eyes, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips that takes the breath out from your lungs. As he backs away, he hums with a peculiar look on his face. “What’s on your mind?” You ask, your brows knitting together.

Eddie sighs, petting the bare skin exposed on your hip. “Minor Brooke update, today.”  

Your brows instinctively rise, feeling every little muscle in your face tense up. “Oh?” 

“Yup. Are you interested?”  

You close your eyes, asking any entity out there listening for a lick of patience. “You piqued my interest. Lay it on me.”  

Eddie can’t beat around the bush, or he would never say it. “She came into my work today.” He pauses, allowing you to absorb the information before continuing. “Requesting that I convince Dylan to…let her back into his life, so to say.” You squint, remembering the few times that Dylan had confessed about his mom to you, always finishing by claiming he wants nothing to do with her and never will.  

“Yeah, good luck with that,” you comment, watching his eyes flicker back and forth between yours.  

“She reached out to him last week and when he refused, I guess the next most logical step was to drive the six hours from Boston and corner me at work.” Your teeth grit, angry at the fucking gall that fills Brooke whatever-the-fuck her last name is. God forbid Steve or Eddie ever accidentally tell you what it is, because the day it comes her inbox will be flooded with just a little piece of your mind, and she'll be lucky if profanities are the worst things you say.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, having watched your face move through the storm of emotions.  

“I was thinking that I fucking hate your ex-wife and if she has no haters then I’m dead,” you answer, dead panning.  

“I love you,” he sighs, tugging you in against his chest. “Are you hungry?”  

You look at the wrappers decorating the mahogany coffee table, “Surprisingly yes.”  

“Lets get a real meal in you, shall we?”  

- 

Eddie is present at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, birthing class, and even at 20 weeks, when you were inexplicably spotting, stayed with you throughout the 7 hour wait at the ER. He certainly helped you hide from the embarrassment of the doctor explaining the bleeding seemed to be brought on by intercourse and to start being a bit more careful.  

Only one time does a health care worker mistake Eddie for being your father, a mistake quickly fixed at the death glare he gives her. You don’t know how, as you look nothing alike and he has been doting on you too affectionately to be a dad, but you can’t help teasing him by calling him daddy as soon as she leaves the room. 

Well, that’s a lie.  

There is one other time he’s mistaken for your father, running into the maternity ward and anxiously stating your name to the front desk of labor nurses. The head nurse, a woman bearing silver streaks in her hair, calmly tells him to relax and sit down, only the baby’s father is allowed in the room with patients.  

“Well you better take me to my wife, then,” he deadpans, his eyes harsh enough to shoot daggers if it were physically possible. 

She stutters through her response. “Oh, you-you’re her husband? I’m so sorry I assumed–my mistake, she’s in the third door on the left.”  

He rushes to the door, ignoring her last pleas for forgiveness. He was far too busy focusing on how he knew he shouldn’t have gone into work when he knew you were due to go into labor any day now. He knew he should've told them to ask Joe for the solution, as he was basically acting owner while he was away.  

When he bursts through the door, you’re sat on the bed in the room with Bethany petting your face as you push through a particularly hard contraction.  

He waits and watches anxiously for you to get through it before announcing his arrival. As soon as your eyes land on him he sees your face crumple in relief and your hands reach out for him. “Baby,” you whine, seeking the comfort of his shampoo and cologne.  

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, planting a big kiss on the hand that was reached out. “Thank you so much, Bethany, for taking her.”  

She shrugs, dismissing his over exaggerated gratitude. “She’s been a champ. Let me know if you two need anything.”  

Eddie pets your hair, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “How’ve you been, baby?”  

“Only been an hour, and I am so over labor,” you whine, smiling pathetically. “Thanks for coming so fast.”  

Eddie was surprised he didn’t get pulled over, going 90 down the freeway. He turned a 20 minute drive into 8. “Made any progress?” 

“I’m only one centimeter dilated. We could be here for a while.” 

“I’m here every minute,” he says, grabbing a chair to sit by your bed. “I believe in you. We’ll listen to Taylor, listen to a smutty audio book, watch a true crime series, whatever you want, baby.”  

- 

True to his word, he allowed you to blast your Faves Spotify playlist, watched a few episodes of 48 Hours with you, and even sat with you as he let you play with the makeup you had packed in your hospital bag on his face.  

You made him look like a Captain Jack Sparrow, giggling as he animatedly talks in a pirate voice. The best thing about Eddie being there is that he wards off your parents and others who wish to visit you in your labor and acts as your advocate when the nurse is too rough with you and requests a new nurse immediately. Well, and his presence alone puts you at ease, of course.  

It feels like forever, but you’re eight centimeters dilated when a familiar face walks down the hall, passing his father as he carries the millionth cup of ice chips you requested. “Bud! Did someone text you about–” 

“She told me when Bethany was driving her to the hospital, but that’s actually not why we’re here,” Dylan sheepishly admits, his shoulders shrugging up to his ears as a pink blooms across his cheeks.  

“We?” Eddie catches on, blinking. “Is Maya also..?” 

“Yeah, we got here about three hours ago,” he squinted one eye comically, crossing his arms. “She’s about halfway there, now I think.”  

“Wow she’s progressing a lot faster than we did,” Eddie comments, it taking you far more than three hours to get to five centimeters.  

“It would be ironic wouldn’t it, if they had the same birthday?”  

“Irony is one word for it,” Dylan chuckles. “My girlfriend asked for ice chips about eight minutes ago, and she is not patient, so I’m going to get back to it.” 

“Let us know any updates, won’t you?”  

“I bet my kid will be born before yours,” Dylan answers, only somewhat joking. 

“Oh, you’re on, dude.”  

- 

As nurses and the doctor rushes around you, frantically assessing the baby while helping you with the afterbirth, birthing the placenta and ridding the bodily fluids that came out with the infant. Eddie cut the cord, watching carefully as the nurses quickly washed his newborn son off.  

He’s simultaneously whispering sweet nothings against your cheek, how proud he is of you, describing your son’s dark hair, his little mouth opening as the nurse's hand gently washes it. “Did so good, baby, so good, I’m so fucking proud of you.”  

“Is he okay?” You whisper, eyes half open as you stare up at your husband’s brown ones. “J-Josh, is he okay?”  

Eddie knows exactly what you’re asking, making sure his limbs are working, that he looks healthy, that the nurses don’t look too concerned about their results. He can’t help but answer, “He’s perfect.”  

Your favorite nurse, the one who got assigned after Eddie demanded it, brings him over swaddled in a hospital blanket and tucks him into your arms. The hormones and adrenaline overwhelm you as you stare at his face, selfishly grateful he looks just like his father, happily staring at the little button nose.  

“I love you,” when you stare up at your husband, you’re expecting his eyes to also be planted on the newest member of the little family. Instead they’re shiny and planted on you, his expression drenched in pure love.  

“I love you,” you sigh, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “He’s so perfect.”  

“I fucking love you so much.” 

The love fest eventually dies down, all the medical aides surrounding you finishing up and leaving the room as they steal one last glance at the happy little family.  

You’re lost in your own little world when Dylan runs in, seeing the little addition sat on your chest. Eddie looks up to face Dylan dressed in a hospital gown and a hairnet. His face is lit up with the same joy as the room is filled with. “You wanna meet your grandson?”  

Eddie nods, quickly stopped by his wife still lying on the bed sitting in the afterglow. “Go,” you insist, petting at the soft hair on your son. “Say hi for me.”  

He smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your knotted hair, followed by his newborn. “Be right back.”  

On the way over to the emergency surgery room Dylan explains that the umbilical cord ended up twisted around his son’s neck and they took Maya straight into an emergency C-Section. He sat with his girlfriend as they emptied the contents of her abdomen to allow the newest Munson to come into the world.  

Eddie asked several times to make sure it was okay if her father in law, her boyfriend’s father, to go into a room where she is this vulnerable. Dylan insisted that she said it was fine and since Eddie was here for the birth of his son it would be cool for him to meet his grandson, too, within the same half hour.  

Miraculously, after getting in his own scrubs, Eddie wanders in with Dylan as Maya is finished with her stitches. She’s still loopy from the general anesthesia, holding her newborn on her partially covered chest.  

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked, knowing how against visitors you were.  

“Just come say hi to your grandson, Eddie,” Maya chuckles, passing up the newborn. “Meet Jace Edward Munson.”  

“Edward?” Eddie laughs, barely holding the mist that comes to his eyes. “What?”  

Dylan scrunches his nose, tilting his head to face the newborn now in his father’s arms. “You stepped up when she left. You were everything to me. You may have stolen a girlfriend, but that is small beans in the grand scheme of things, you know?”  

“Jace and Josh,” Eddie muses, laughter bubbling up his throat. “God, they even sound like twins.”  

- 

Kayla smooths over the dress she wears, nervously looking around the classroom. Are there enough learning centers set up? Will the children like the home center she put together? Will there be any difficult teachers during her first year?  

 For the first time, she’s on her own, placed in the very class she had spent so long working toward, kindergarten.  

Her little classmates with their parents, usually mothers, wander in with wide eyes, nervously holding onto their sleeves and looking around anxiously. She talks to each little one at a time, welcoming them and offering them many activities to distract them from wanting to stay with their parents.  

One little boy doesn’t need much, or any, peeling off his father as he runs in, his shaggy brown hair rustling in as he bolts straight to the building blocks. His dad walks in right after, carrying his bag dressed in a leather jacket and acid wash jeans.  

“Hi,” he sighs, sounding tired. “That’s Dylan.”  

“M or H?” Kayla asks.  

“M.”  

“Dylan, can you grab your bag from your dad and put it in the cubby?” Dylan runs to grab his bag from his dad, shouting in slight frustration as he’s pulled in for a hug. “Yours will have an M next to your name!”  

He listens, but doesn’t look back as he runs back to the blocks.  

“I’m Eddie,” the father says, holding his hand out. “His mom, Brooke, will pick him up after school, uh, she’s a bit of a hardass, so just beware.”  

Oh, goody. She gives him a strained smile, insisting she’ll be able to handle it.  

Eddie and Dylan end up being one of his favorite pairings for the year. But when Brooke walked in, she knew it became a big deal for something as small as Dylan putting his book in the wrong pocket in his bag.  

Kayla got along great with Eddie, as they turned out to be the same age. They saw one another around the school as Dylan got older, even became someone Dylan could rely on for a maternal figure when his parents ended up divorcing in fifth grade.  

About twenty one years after initially teaching Dylan, she’s a veteran teacher in her own right, having a monopoly over classroom #3 as she continues to be the answer for dozens of individuals when asked their favorite teacher.   

She sits in her lumbar chair that her coworkers raised the money for the previous Christmas as she finally is able to look over her newest class list. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she came across 9th and 8th from the last name, two boys with J initials and the last name Munson. She’d been wondering if she would ever have the pleasure of teaching Dylan’s boys, or if he decided to skip town like most of his classmates.  

Their birthday right next to their attendance names indicated they had the same birthdate, so she was safe to assume she would have another set of twins. If they were anything like Dylan, they would be a fun sort of challenge for her, that she was sure of.  

On the first day the following fall, she keeps an eye out for her former student, keeping in mind it could very well be the mother that decides to drop them off.  

As she’s helping a particularly shy child settle into her classroom, she notices a parent helping their kid out of the wind breaker they’re wearing. As soon as the little girl is settled she goes to them welcoming them. She immediately recognizes the parent. “Dylan!”  

“Oh, Miss. Thompson! I didn’t realize you were still teaching!” He sheepishly admits, looking at the plaque now containing her married name.  

“I am just married, now,” she answers, answering him the same way she would a student out of habit. “Now, who do we have here?”  

“I’m Jace,” the little boy answers shyly, brown hair of this father but stark green eyes.  

“Well, Jace, would you mind finding your name at one of the cubbies for me? I think you’re put right next to someone named Josh,” she tells him, watching for any recognition of the other name she thought was his twin.  

“Oh, sweet!” Jace exclaims, running with his Pokémon bag.  

She gets up from her squatting position, her knees far too achy for doing it continually like she still is. “So, there’s another Munson on the class list, would you know anything about that?” 

Dylan chuckles, sighing. “Well, about that–” Dylan is interrupted by a little boy with dark hair hugging him, exclaiming his name. “Hey, Josh, we were just talking about you!”  

Josh laughs, tugging on Dylan’s arm. “Is Jace here?” 

“Yeah, he’s playing with the dinosaurs, if I know him.” 

“Cool!” Josh runs straight off, meeting his supposed relative at the play carpet.  

Kayla turns around in confusion, questioning what just happened.  

As if answering her, in comes another familiar face, holding a bag that looks comically small compared to his tall stature. “Ah, Kayla. I was wondering if you were still here.”  

“Eddie!” She greets him, giving a very frank hug. “I have to admit, I am very confused.” 

“That’s okay, you wouldn’t be the first,” Eddie comments, crossing his arms. “Me and my wife had Josh at the same time Dylan had Jace. They’re assholes, they like to gang up on adults, but don’t let them intimidate you, they can’t with their adults anymore, so they try it on teachers.” 

“Takes a lot more than that to intimidate me,” Kayla answers, looking back at the boys who gained ownership over the carpet with dinosaurs and cars. “I appreciate the warning, though.” She looks back to her old friend, seeing the smile lines on his face, still carrying his son’s things. “I’m happy you found someone, though.”  

“Thanks. His mom will pick him up after school,” Eddie tells her, going to the cubby with his kid’s name on it. “She’s not as bad as Brooke, so there’s no worries, there.”  

“Alright, can’t wait to meet her.”  

Eddie and Dylan share a look, one that Kayla misses as she starts to welcome in a few new classmates.  

- 

The bell rings for lunch for the rest of the elementary school and end of day for the kindergarteners. Mrs. Franklin, or Miss. Thompson, as Dylan knows her, helps all her students with their backpacks and jackets. It’s one thing to manage five-year-olds, it’s another to get them to stop wrestling and help them simultaneously.  

The Munson boys are certainly no help, Josh trying to stick his finger up Jace’s nose, pinning him down on the dirty floor as Jace wiggles underneath him. Kayla wished Josh would stop telling Jace he’s his uncle and he has to listen to him, that way she wouldn’t have to hold back her laughter so hard.  

“Okay, Mr. and Mr. Munson, break it up, your parents will be here any minute now. Get up.” They both switch their glances up to her, eyebrows raised over wide eyes. “Get up.”  

They roll their eyes, Josh reluctantly getting off Jace slowly and helping him up. Slowly but surely, parents start to pick their kids up, both Munsons waiting for their parents anxiously. You wonder in with your youngest, a little three year old by the name of Stevie. She holds onto your pointer and middle finger anxiously, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar noises and faces.  

Your son is seemingly nowhere to be seen, usually seen with his counterpart but you can’t see him around the crowd of parents kneeling with their kids and asking how their day was. The teacher,  someone both Dylan and Eddie insisted is the best in the school, approaches you kindly to ask which kid is yours.  

Before you can even answer Josh runs into you, happily glancing up at you as he wraps his arms around your legs. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, kneeling down as you pet his sweet face.  

You miss the peculiar look Mrs. Franklin, or Kayla as Eddie referred to her as, gives you. Surprised to say the least that the Mrs. Munson she has yet to meet is so young. Her brows furrow even further when Jace notices you, yelling, “Grandma!” as he also runs for a hug.  

“Were you boys nice to Mrs. Franklin today?”  

“Of course!” Josh smiles, and you squint through his bullshit.  

“Well we’re gonna make sure to be nicer or we’re gonna have to lose our tablet privileges, won’t we?”  

You get back up, smiling at their grumbly faces. They never listen to new adults, it was a field day at their first day of preschool. One glance to their teacher’s observant face told you all you needed to know. “Eddie didn’t warn you, he?”  

“No, but they did have a peculiar look on their faces when I mentioned meeting you. Should’ve known better, with those two,” you tilt your head, curious at what she meant. “Seriously, your husband needs to tell you more. I taught Dylan when he was in kindergarten.”  

“Oh!” you exclaim, somewhat surprised. “That’s really cool! Were you surprised to see Eddie wi–” 

“With another kid,” she interrupts, laughing, “yes, I was. I’m happy to see that he found someone else, Brooke, was, well, she was not a nice person.”  

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of your husband’s ex-wife, this being the first person she meets outside Eddie’s inner circle to having even mentioned Brooke. “So, I’ve heard.”  

“Hey mom,” you hear behind you, you shove the owner before you even see him, rolling your eyes.  

It’s very recently become a silly habit of Dylan’s to call you mom, due to your son asking why his brother calls his mom by her real name and not mom like he does. After the best attempt at explaining Dylan has a different mom who is no longer around, Josh is still confused and insists that you still act like his mom, so therefore, are Dylan’s mom. 

It was awkward at first, but now it’s a little inside joke. If you were told when you first got together with Eddie that Dylan would be referring to you as a maternal figure, you probably would’ve hit them on the head for fucking with you.  

“Hey, kiddo,” you tease back, mocking his twisted face expression. “They were apparently giving her a hard time today.”  

“Of course they were. You know we can ask one of you to switch classes, right?” Dylan asks, an aura of authority in his voice.  

Their eyes go wide, even though it was a threat in their preschool room, they have yet to consider this. You didn’t want to resort to threats but with their shenanigans, it's literally one of the only things that will work.  

“C’mon, your dad is making your favorite for dinner,” your shoulder cascades around Josh’s shoulder, telling him to say bye to his nephew and that he’ll see him tomorrow.  

Two years later, Stevie shows up with her dark curls down to her shoulders after her father, giggling as she says hi to the teacher.  

That was the last time Kayla taught one of Eddie Munson’s kids. Or, so she assumed.  

- 

The double doors to the high school flew open, big black boots echoing as the large leather jacket trails behind a slim torso. He takes the immediate left into the office, his presence large, with grey streaks leaking into his roots and an angry look on his face.  

The kind administration lady looks up to his expectant face, the curiosity quickly melting into confounded terror. “Can I help you?” 

“Apparently Stevie Munson is in the office right now?” Better be a damn good reason for peeling me away from one of the only moments I have left alone with my wife, he thinks, eyes observing around the office.  

“Yes, she is, uh, are you her–” 

“Her father, are you going to let me in the office or do I have to let myself in?” 

The surprise that fills her features would be charming if Eddie wasn’t so fucking annoyed. He’s used to the assumption by now, but for the moment he just doesn’t have any patience in his body.  

“You can go right ahead, Mr. Munson,” she peeps out, gesturing to the door marked Principal. Eddie’s not sure why he even asked, or how he had the foresight to ask, first. He’s surprised, honestly.  

The door opens to face the school principal, his daughter and a boy sitting two seats away from her nursing his face with an ice pack. “Mr. Munson, welcome in! Have a seat.”  

“No thanks,” Eddie answers, polite, but curt. He looks at his daughter, “What happened?”  

She opens her mouth to answer but is interrupted by the bald principal, “I didn’t ask you, I asked her. What happened?” He directs his attention back to his daughter.

She smiles at him, the same sweet smile his wife bares. “This guy touched my ass under my skirt, so I punched him in the face.”  

Eddie’s brows raised, teeth gritted as he sends a daggers at the boy he is now aware assaulted his daughter. “I’m sorry?” He asks, now directed to the principal.  

“So she says,” the principal says, eyes widening at how Eddie manages to look murderous. “Granted, even if Mr. Jackson did do that, it’s not a good enough reason to assault him. She will be suspended for two days.”  

Eddie laughs, loudly, shaking his head at the gall, the fucking nerve. This principal is extremely lucky it was him who answered his phone and not you. “Really? My daughter got sexually assaulted and your reaction to her defending herself is suspending her? Are you fucking kidding me?”  

“Mr. Munson, if you could please calm down and have a seat,” he starts, gesturing to the chair, yet again.  

“Oh, I am calm. You don’t want to see me angry,” Eddie answers, the Hulk flashing through his mind. “You deciding to punish her tells me exactly why this little shit felt confident enough to lay his hands on her, to begin with. I just think about all the other girls he’s done this to, too afraid to speak up, I wonder how many times he’s done this with no consequence to feel confident enough to touch under a skirt. What the fuck is this place? No-tolerance bullying policy? Utter bullshit.”  

“Mr. Munson, calm down before I call security–”  

“Don’t make me laugh. Seriously. Don’t.” Eddie sighs, pinching his nose. “If you do suspend her, I will press charges against him and I will sue this fucking school. If you punish him, like you’re supposed to, take him off his team for the season, put him in detention for a month, I don’t care, something with fucking consequences, I won’t. You decide.” 

He looks down at the little shit, whimpering as he still nurses the barely there bruise. “You better hope I don’t hear you doing this shit to any other girl in this school, or you won’t get into any college in the country.” He pauses, opening the office door to an audience. Maybe he was louder than he thought he was. “C’mon Stevie, let’s go get some fucking ice cream.”  

When you heard about how your husband stuck up for your daughter like that, you got on your knees for him in the bathroom. That might’ve cheered him up a bit.  

- 

The sounds are familiar yet foreign when you wake up to the blindingly white room, the chatter in the hallway and some heart monitor beeping. Two people immediately come into focus, Josh, sitting at the end of the bed on his phone, Stevie sitting concerned by your head.  

You moan, sitting up in your bed annoyed at the stark contrast of the back of your eyelids. “What the hell?”  

“Mom!” Josh shouts, getting up and standing on the other side of his sister.  

“Mom,” Stevie runs out of the room, calling for a doctor.  

You look to your son, brows furrowed. “What happened?”  

“You passed out at the grocery store. You fainted and you didn’t wake up until just now.”  

Your brows raise, because you haven’t felt off even the slightest. The dizziness hit you out of nowhere, going from fine to woozy in two seconds and falling flat on your face. “How long ago did that happen?” 

“Like twenty minutes? The ambulance got there pretty quickly,” he admits, turning his head to his sister and the nurse coming in the door. 

“Mrs. Munson! So glad to see you awake. I’ll let the doctor know and he should be able to give your results,” she says, sweet smile as she turns away.  

Stevie’s bottom lip is stuck out, quivering as she grabs the hand containing an IV line. You thought that was a bit much. “Stevie, I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure, because I heard the nurses saying it’s not normal to stay out that long after fainting. What if you’re sick?”  

“I’m okay,” you insist, watching both their worried faces. “Fuck, you called your dad, didn’t you?” 

“Uh, yes! He would’ve killed us if we didn’t!” Josh laughs, leaning back in his chair.  

As if summoned, your husband pokes his head in, his eyes wide as he walks in the room, hands out to you as his long legs take him to the head of the bed. “Fucking Christ.” 

“Hi, baby,” you greet him, leaning into the forehead kiss that he gives you. “I’m okay.” 

“Fainting in the fucking grocery store, fucking hell. My god, baby.” He looks over to his kids, “What tests have they done, so far?” 

“Just a blood test, I think,” Stevie shrugs. 

“They might do an MRI but that could take weeks of waiting.” Josh offers no comfort to his dad despite his best efforts.  

“I’m okay, really.” You insist to all their worried faces. “You didn’t call anyone else, did you?”  

“Uh, we called Dylan,” Josh says, wincing at your annoyed face. “And Jace.”  

“Fuck,” you mutter, intertwining your hand with Eddie’s rough one.  

The doctor doesn’t come as quickly as the nurse promised, but he comes within two hours. “Oh, hello, you have quite the visitors, don’t you?”  

You shrug, rubbing his thumb as it anxiously rubs your hand.  

“We have the results, inconclusively.” The air is tense, every one of the family seemingly expecting terrible news. “Congrats! You’re pregnant.”  

You knew nothing was wrong, but this was not what you were expecting. You’re forty-two, Eddie is nearly seventy. You weren’t even sure he could still get you pregnant. You meet your husband’s eyes, sharing a bewildered smile.  

In the meantime, shouts of disgust from your teenage kids fill the room, standing up with tense shoulders.  

“Gross!” 

“Ew! I didn’t even know you guys still did it! Oh my god! Ew!!!!”  

You bite your lip, shrugging. “Are you wanting to be a father to a newborn at almost 70?”  

Eddie smirks, leaning in for a kiss that makes your kids jeer again. “Bring it on, baby.”  

Steve calls an hour later, concerned for the text his name sake sent him. When Eddie informs him, you’re pregnant, twenty years of karma hits tenfold.  

When Steve and Jocelyn said they were pregnant with Eliza fifteen years after having Dustin, Eddie spent the pregnancy making fun of their oopsie baby. Asking if they knew what protection was, joking how they still had sex, telling them to keep it in their pants, the works.  

Now, Steve was more than happy to return the favor. “A baby at 70, you old bastard? What was that you told me twenty years ago? God, I’m surprised you two still do it, considering how low Eddie’s ball sack must be hanging.”  

“You wish you could see my ball sack, you asshole,” Eddie teases, laughing with you as you sigh. “You’re just jealous I can still keep it up, you geriatric bastard.”  

- 

Five years later, when Eddie and Kayla are older, he wanders into classroom #3 for the last time, holding his third son who ends up being notoriously clingy towards his older father.  

It’s ironic to the both of them how Eddie has a son for both Kayla’s first and last year of teaching, keeping tabs on one another for the duration of forty years.  

Eddie doesn’t say anything, letting Tommy down and dismissing her questioning look. Don’t wanna talk about it.

By the time Tommy is 18, Eddie is too old to give a shit, wondering constantly what Wayne’s opinion will be when he ends up knocking on heaven’s door.  

When you got into your sixties, Eddie was full of gratitude, thankful that you will no longer be confused for one of his kids despite his actual kids all calling you mom. He makes fun of your vision, stealing his reading glasses constantly despite his constant insisting that you get your own pair.  

Despite the smile lines by his lips and his eyes, the sunspots decorating his skin, you still stare up at him like you did when he was forty-seven.  

Your lives were forever intertwined from the moment you saw him, from the moment he saw you. He lies down in your bed next to you for the millionth time, his hand caressing your side, pressing kisses on whiskered lips, it doesn’t occur to you to ever be anything less than woefully in love with him.     

———————-

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[eyelessfaces]

he'll be gone in the morning

llewyn davis x reader

summary: you wish he would stay. he never does.

alternatively, two times llewyn is gone when you wake up, one time he's not yet.

warnings: there's honestly more smut than plot lol this was an excuse to write llewyn smut; unprotected piv sex (this man never learns), tipsy sex where both parts consent and are aware of what's happening, creampie, oral f receiving, praise kink, both parts are desperate, plot is based on angst, fear of abandonment i guess?, self doubt from both parts, a bit of self sabotaging from llewyn because is it really an oscar isaac character if he's not self destructive

tags: friends to ??lovers I guess, f!reader, unspoken feelings, reader has hair that's long enough to brush away from her face, fluff, yearning

word count: 2.8k

I haven't been sane about llewyn for the past few days. again. it usually takes me weeks to write smut because it makes me go insane but I wrote this in like eight hours so...... yeah. not sane about this man at all.

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog @eyelessupdates

It’s the same as always; he slept there last night, on your worn out couch, too old for him not to get a sore back after a whole night on it. You remember looking back at him as he tucked a pillow behind his head, a soft smile over his lips when he looked over at you before you turned the light off and reluctantly disappeared through the hallway to go to your room, by yourself.

He’s gone now, his own blanket you had gifted him on his most recent birthday messily folded and put back where it usually rests. If it wasn’t for the unfinished cup of coffee and the ashtray gathering a few cigarette butts sitting over your coffee table, it would be like he was never there in the first place.

He almost always disappears before you can join him and tell him good morning, always escapes before you get the opportunity to ask him to stay for one more night, to get him to be sure he has a place to stay at the end of the day.

He never writes notes anymore the way he used to the first few times you let him crash at your place, like he’s now used to your kindness; you don’t mind, you’re glad he feels comfortable staying here to the point where he doesn’t have to apologize when he knocks at your door anymore.

You don’t mind, it’s the whole opposite actually; you just wished he would stay.

—

Your cheeks are hot from the booze, or maybe – no, most definitely – from Llewyn’s mouth on your neck. 

His beard is softly tickling your sensitive skin as he kisses and nips at it, forcing a – treacherous – almost silent whimper out of your mouth at the same time you sink your head into the pillows to grant him more access. It makes him laugh, it fucking makes him laugh smugly to see how he’s turning you into putty in his hands. Your hand instinctively buries in his hair to get a grasp onto something, and he gets a taste of his own little game when you softly tug on his thick curls and earn a small moan from him. Good to know.

Your body only feels warmer when his hands roam along the sides of it, slowly but surely stripping you of your layers until your top half is completely bare as he continues his assault over your neck, biting and sucking on it, making sure there will be visible proof that he went there for the guys staring at you too intensely at the bar to see. 

Then his mouth trails down, again and again. He takes his precious time kissing your collarbone, the top of each breast, from your sternum down to your stomach. You cup the back of his neck as his curls softly tickle your skin and as he brings a special attention to your lower stomach, not giving in what he knows you need, teasing as his fingers press onto your hips before they eventually curl into the hem of your underwear as he continues leaving small, warm kisses to your stomach, sliding the piece of clothing off your hips and down your legs before he tosses it away. 

When he finally moves and spreads your legs apart, it’s not to slide his warm tongue over your cunt like you would expect or hope for, it’s to gently kiss your left thigh and run his hand over your skin burning in the feverish heat of anticipation; the prickle of his beard softly teases the ticklish inside of your thigh, his warm mouth just inches away from where you truly want him, the sensations increased tenfold by the booze. Each trail of his hands and mouth leaves you more sensitive, head spinning already when he’s not even giving you what he knows you truly want from him yet. 

When his mouth shifts again, it’s to give your other thigh the same treatment; soft nibbles while his hand gently caresses your warm skin before he runs the tip of his nose from the inside of your thigh up to your knee, looking back up at you desperately waiting for him to do anything concrete. 

“Llewyn please” you whine needily, throwing your head back into the cushions of your bed as he chuckles and slowly makes his way down to the inside of your thigh again, hot breath teasingly fanning there.

“Tell me what you need, angel” he demands, murmuring close to where you want him as his thumb softly brushes your bare thigh. His eyes dart back to you, raising an eyebrow when you only whine his name as a response.

“You” you slur out, fingers wrapping around his forearm to get something to hold onto. His warm, half lidded eyes make something flutter inside your stomach, his mouth and hot breath close to your soaking slit making your breath halt. “Please”

You softly gasp as both of his hands squeeze the flesh of your ass, firmly grabbing onto it to pull your body closer towards him, no longer intent on teasing you or making you wait; he'd make you beg longer if he wasn't so damn eager to taste you. 

He dives in and presses his flattened tongue against your folds, and you feel the same way you did earlier when you got to your feet after a few drinks; your head spins, your lower stomach burns just the way it did when drinking that whiskey. 

It's a bit messy, a bit rushed and maybe even desperate but not even close to being unpleasant as his tongue laps at your slit, beard harshly rubbing against your sensitive skin. 

He hums to himself as his lips close around your clit, sucking and pulling weak moans out of you, looking up at your through half lidded eyes when his middle finger slowly and carefully pushes inside your slick channel, his free hand stroking along your thigh caging his head. 

He’d praise you more if his mouth wasn’t so damn busy, if your reactions weren’t so damn attractive as he mouthed at you pussy and wouldn't dare stopping, because you look so fucking pretty like this. Disheveled, high on pleasure for him, twitching under his tongue and clenching around the finger inside you.

His ring finger is quick to join alongside the other, stroking your tight walls until he meets the spot that makes your back arch and your breath run short.

He’s barely satisfied until he makes you come on his mouth and fingers twice, until his name and your weak moans and whines are all that can come out of your mouth, until your legs are shaking around his head, until you have to ask him to ease up.

Your chest heaves heavily, your whole body burning and seeming to melt into the mattress from the couple orgasms Llewyn just gave you. You smile dazedly when you look back down at him in between your legs, his cheek mushed against your thigh, his eyes closing contentedly when you run your fingers through his dark locks.

You feel your heart thump hard inside your chest again when he crawls back up to you, his mouth pressing against yours before it opens to let his tongue slip inside.

Your movements are hurried as you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, impatiently blindly progressively getting it open before you’re finally able to slide it off his shoulders.

You hum a soft, reluctant groan into his mouth when you realize he’s wearing an undershirt, meaning that you’ll have to pull apart from his mouth to get it off. He takes care of the task, stripping himself off the tshirt before throwing it across the room, and quickly links your mouths again when he hovers over you, letting out a deep groan when you cup and feel him through his pants. 

You can't help but smile into the kiss when he chases your touch, all but humping your hand before you pull it away to undo his pants, his tongue desperately licking into your mouth when he hurriedly – and a bit messily – strips himself naked. You’re pulled away from his mouth as he looks down when your hand closes around him and pumps his cock, his breath halting, hips thrusting to meet your movements.

Your leg snakes behind him to pull him closer, your chest burning again with anticipation when he takes his cock in hand and aligns with your entrance. You both let out a synchronized groan as he carefully pushes inside, easily sliding in, your sensitive channel slick from your previous orgasms, but still tight around him. 

He’s gentle as he starts to thrust in, hand firmly planted besides your head, teeth sunk into his bottom lip in concentration. His vision sways from the alcohol; it was way less noticeable when he had his face in between your legs, when he didn’t have to use the rest of his body, when he didn’t have to rely on balance.

His eyes close when your hand cups his cheek, fingers softly scratching his beard while you whisper praises he’s far too gone to truly take into account, too lost in the feeling of your cunt softly contracting around him. His thrusts grow more and more desperate as he goes, less precise, the muscles of his thighs twitching as the familiar feeling quickly starts to gather inside his stomach, exhaling moans like laying in bed with you is a one time opportunity, like it’s the last time he’s ever gonna do this.

“Not gonna last long,” he mumbles dazedly between breaths before you quickly assure him that it’s okay, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull his face close to yours again.

His tongue mingles with yours in a heated, desperate kiss before he pulls away and sinks his head against your shoulder, huffing out a loud breath when he feels himself getting close, trying not to tip over the edge before you do.

“Come on dove, come on” he begs you, his warm breath fanning over your neck when one of his hands gently holds onto your waist.

He feels like a lucky bastard that you come just seconds before he does; you let a soft cry out as your last orgasm hits you, this one softer than the two previous ones, feeling like a warmth washing through you as Llewyn stills when he reaches his end and spills inside you, eyes rolling back as a soft groan escapes his lips.

His body crumbles over yours as he lets out a loud sigh, pressing small kisses to your cheek, fingers softly running along your arm.

You want to give the affection back to him, want to kiss him until he's out of breath, but all your body does is close your eyes; Llewyn has drawn all the energy out of you, he has loved you until you became numb.

You instinctively know it's early in the morning when your mind awakes, an unpleasant heaviness clouding your head from the alcohol, and a soft ache between your thighs. You hum softly in your still half asleep state, turning around and changing positions to get more comfortable, reaching for the man you spent the night with, hoping you could snuggle to him.

Your eyes are still shut as you reach for Llewyn, your hand only passing along the ruffles and creases of the fitted sheets of your bed.

Your eyes eventually open when you know you have to come to terms with the fact that he’s gone, he’s fucking gone again.

— 

You don’t know how it has happened again when you only wanted to address the issue at first, still mad at him when he knocked and when you opened the door, still mad that he had left like you were just a meaningless one night stand the other night, someone he would never see or hear about again.

But then he seemed so exhausted, so out of it and so crushed by every responsibility resting over his shoulders that you figured it would be better to bother him with the question later instead of overburdening him now.

Then things slipped, again. So fast and so casually at once, like it was simultaneously the right and wrong thing to do. 

You don’t know why he’s in your bed again, but maybe on your part you do, because you will have to one day just admit that you love him.

You can’t help but feel like you’re missing something regarding him. Why is he in your bed again, sober, head resting over your chest and arms tightly wrapped around your waist if it was all the alcohol’s fault that you stepped further into your relationship the other night? Why is he in your bed again if he regretted it last time and felt he had to run away, again?

You swallow thickly as those questions overwhelmingly cloud your mind, trying to chase them away when you continue to absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft, long curls. It’d be a damn mood breaker to trap him into questions like while you’re still enjoying your respective post-high haze, and you would pass as too fucking ungrateful after the things you have just done, but you have to know why he acts like this, why he runs away but somehow always comes back.

“Llewyn,” his name weakly comes out of your mouth, your fingers stopping in their trail. You can hear your own breathing when you await his response, which eventually never comes. 

He's sound asleep; it'll wait, again.

—

You had almost forgotten Llewyn had been there last night when you wake up to the sound of ruffling around the bedroom.

The only source of light in your room is the full moon light seeping through your window, faint but present enough to make you aware of your surroundings.

Llewyn is standing on the other side of the room, gathering his clothes scattered around the room that you so carelessly threw aside when in a hurry last night.

“What’re you doing” you mumble sleepily as you roll over his side of the bed, arm extending as if to reach for him. He looks over at you like a deer caught in headlights, stopping as his pants are already halfway slid up his thighs.

“I uh, I have to head out” he replies in a low mutter as he resumes his action, approaching and shoving in his pocket the pack of cigarettes laying on the bedside table.

“Don’t,” his gaze darts back at you as you speak, stopping in his movements, in fear that he might have heard it wrong. “Stay” you demand, almost beg as you look up at him, almost all ready to go and leave you hanging like always. He exhales softly and sits down over the edge of the bed, hand reaching out to you to brush your hair back from your face. “Please.” you add, tiredly blinking.

“Okay.” he simply declares in a soft whisper, fingers gently tracing your face. Your eyes close as you lean into his touch, sleep still holding a tight grasp over you.

“Why do you keep leaving” you monotonically, weakly ask, your tone successfully translating the hurt you feel. “All the time” 

He halts and pulls away from you, like your reproach suddenly makes him undeserving of touching you. He takes some time before answering, and you're almost lulled back to sleep before the sound of his voice brings you back to reality and makes you open your eyes again. “I don't want you to think I'm doing all this just for a bed to sleep in” he explains, lips pinching skeptically.

You huff out softly, nuzzling against your arm. “It makes me think you're doing this just for a vagina to stick your dick in, Llewyn.”

“Shit, yeah. I'm sorry” he scoffs and sighs, looking out the window in reflection before looking back at you. “It's just– It's the whole opposite. I care about you. I don't wanna fuck this up” he declares, his hand coming to rest over your extended arm. “I didn't start right, I know. I’m sorry angel.” he pauses, softly chewing on his bottom lip. “I thought it was the right thing to do.”

You exhale, somehow ironically relieved that it's only this, that you're not the main part of the problem, that he actually wants you as much as you do. Your stomach flutters at the feeling of his thumb softly rubbing your bare skin, and you weakly but softly smile when you finally look back up at him.

“I only ever wanted you to stay” you mutter, hand reaching to cover his over your arm.

He tiredly smiles back at you, at last erasing the conflicted frown over his face.

“I only ever wanted to stay.”

—

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[earthtooz]

x : POISON :*+ﾟ

in which: kaiser is undeniably in love with you. tonight, he makes it known. you accept.

warnings: 1.4k words, making out, reader is injured, gn!reader, SPY!AU, 16+ content!! sexual tension lol

context: this was originally a snippet of my 5k celebration where i planned a spy!au for kaiser. however, that idea ended up being scrapped so now i just have this makeout scene that i wrote one night and i don't want it to go to waste. there's more to this scene than just the making out, but, reader gets hurt on a mission gone awry and kaiser kinda lost his shit and went feral on the enemy and that's where we are now ! enjoy whatever this is !

“don’t overdo yourself. no intense training for a week. remember to do your breathwork and stretches everyday, five times a day,” the monotone voice of the nurse fills your ears as you try your best to stumble through the hallways to remain in pace with her. “come back in three days for a checkup. recover quickly, agent.”

“thank you,” you grit, dawdling out of the hospital wing with your bed at the forefront of your mind. goodness, you just needed to lie down and think about how you’re going to train back into top shape again.

because despite only being out of commission for five days, your senses are already failing you, unable to detect the looming figure behind you. hands abruptly grab you by your arms, pressing tightly into you as you both stumble into the darkness of your now unlocked room. 

you would fight back, but the assailant’s scent is nothing but familiar, and instead of fear, your heart begins to race in anticipation.

especially as kaiser smoothly spins you around in his grasp, forcing you to continue walking until you hit the edge of your bed, causing you to sit down. the door closes behind the two of you and the only light source were the lamps coming from outside your window, allowing you to see the outline of kaiser’s face.

“what’s your problem?” you ask, irritation brewing from how abrupt his entrance was. “seriously? do you know how reckless that was to just grab me and force me into a dark room? i’m recovering too, what if you pulled one of my stitches? jackass.”

he doesn’t reply. in fact, kaiser is uncharacteristically silent and you wonder if the man in front of you was kaiser at all.

it has to be, no other agent in this facility has blue hair like his, or such a recognisable tattoo, or an addictive aura like his. 

“kaiser?” you say, this time breathy, quiet, and cautious. “is everything okay?”

the sigh that escapes him causes his whole body to shudder and you’re caught off guard when two hands come to hold your face, followed by the press of lips against your forehead. your breath lodges itself in your throat, unused to this kind of intimacy and closeness from kaiser. 

he doesn’t speak but neither do you because you’ve never heard a more sadder, disappointed sigh from anyone… ever, not from noel when you failed an assessment, not when you were unable to shoot the dummy in the heart, not even from yourself when you failed to clear a skill stage for the umpteenth time. so you’re willing to wait for kaiser to come around, for the silence to naturally melt itself away, for his closeness to stop overwhelming you, for your heart to stop racing as fast as it is. 

his hands then move to begin playing with your hair.

“i hate that i can’t protect you,” he finally confesses; a breath of rushed words rather than an actual sentence that is easily decipherable. 

“i don’t need it-”

“-i know; you don’t need help, especially from me, but fuck, i can’t help it.” you bite back the urge to say ‘i know’, suddenly remembering the crazed look in his eyes from that night. the memory sends shivers down your spine. “i can’t help but want to hide you from the world, to be beside you all the time where you’ll be safe- where i’d kill to keep you safe.” 

his words are no louder than a breath. the weight of his words fall upon your shoulders with undeniable force, causing you to sink against him, surrendering to the pressure of his admission.

“kaiser-”

“-i know. i know you don’t need anyone’s protection, i fucking know. because you’re stupid and reckless but so brave and admirable in everything you do that i need to be selfish when it comes to you. if i’m not then you’ll go flying off to somewhere i can’t reach and my love-” 

he pauses, faltering a little as he leans away from you, tilting your head carefully to make you look up at him. “-i can’t let that happen.”

something within you crumbles. with your own ears, you hear your ruination come alive with his words. “kaiser, we can’t be doing this. you know that. we’re bad for each other.”

“why can’t you be selfish with me too?” 

stunned into silence, you can’t look him in the eye, fearful of what would become of you if you did. you’re already overflowing, the walls that you once made unbreakable finally beginning to reveal their first crack. kaiser is maddening; truly maddening.

“why can’t you be careful with me?” you ask, voice cracking against your will. “you say these things but you spin me around like a headless horse. one second you’re at my throat, ready to push me off a cliff then-”

“-my love.” 

“don’t call me that!” you plead. “don’t call me that when you don’t mean it. i’d rather bleed from a stab wound than from love, don’t you know? i can’t keep fighting against you and your cruel games.”

you quiver at the feeling of him kissing the side of your face. the crack widens. 

“you win. you’re the emperor, you’re the mastermind, whatever, i surrender.”

he breathes in, exhaling roughly too as he speaks against your skin: “you’re not understanding me. i’ll be anything you want me to be. tell me to leave and i will. i’ll never speak of this moment again and i’ll never speak of my love for you again, but accept my heart and it’ll be at your mercy.”

as if matching his promise, kaiser sinks to his knees between your legs so that you were now eye-level. his eyes gleam with heart wrenching genuinity, his expression serious like you’ve never seen him before. you’ve witnessed kaiser gone manic, gone crazed, gone rogue even, but you’ve never seen him like this. 

he’s terrifying but deliciously tempting. 

the first step is terrifying, your hands trembling when they go to cradle his jaw. he falters.

the second step is even more horrifying, as you lean closer to him, you try to unlearn the security protocols you’ve needed to put up to protect yourself. 

the third is nothing but liberating because you’re now falling, so utterly helpless as you meet your demise, landing in kaiser’s embrace.

“you’re insane,” you mutter, stopping just briefly before his lips. 

he keens, desire dripping off of him like honey as he wills himself to not close the gap. “so you’ve told me. countless times before, actually.”

“your insanity must be rubbing off on me,” you joke, “be my lover, kaiser. for the night or for eternity, i’ve picked my poison.”

“then i’ll so happily drink it for you.”

with that, you seal your lips against his and his touch shatters you from the inside, walls fully collapsing at his will when his hands go to hold your waist, grabbing your shirt as if anchoring himself into this reality. 

“shit,” he breathes against your lips. “i can’t believe this isn’t a dream.”

“what if i was?”

“then never wake me up, my love,” he grumbles before standing up, never going too far from you as he slowly pushes you down. using your elbow to support you before you could fully give in and kaiser uses his arm to hold his weight as the other goes to your hip. “i’m yours, i’m all yours.”

he sighs heavily. “i can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you.”

this time, his kiss consumes you, intent on committing all of you to memory as his hands roam, too antsy to be able to remain in one place. your hands tangle in his hair, a subtle way of telling him to not go too far; not that he wants to. how could he when he has everything he’s wanted for the past decade in his hands? 

rendered so helpless in your grasp, the only thing kaiser can think about is pleasing you.

pain shoots up your body, causing you to fall back onto your mattress, breaking away from kaiser who gazes at you with shining eyes. 

“you-” you cough. “you have to be nice. i can’t breathe very easily. everything hurts.”

kaiser laughs, the sound reverberating through the darkness. “i can make an exception for you,” he promises, hands caressing against you like glass as he connects your lips with his again, intent on fully becoming yours.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 08/Sept/2023 Phew, doing draft after draft of plan is a lot!

I know that putting in all this effort now will pay off  when I actually come to write it (though I may have already loosely drafted a couple of scenes because I can’t help myself… :D) as well as make it a lot smoother when I get to it…but knowing what is coming is making me SO eager to write already, hehe! :D

This week, I spent some time looking at how to add in the villain romance. It’s definitely got a much different feel than the romance-y Unit Bravo ones, lol! But then I want it to be unique with it’s own feel, so it definitely works.

The more I plan in, the more I think it’s a definite that I’ll be adding it.

But I also want to make sure there are points where you can end that romance if you want to, especially because it might get too intense for some people. Definitely want that exit option in there at multiple places!

Planning this romance also means a very different shift in mindset from the vampires’ romances, not only because they’re a not a good person, lol, but also because it is a one book romance. I need to switch from thinking about the romance as a long term thing that can grow over multiple books, to something that needs to start, get involved, and then end in one book! It’s not that it can’t be done, especially with the intensity that’s burning between the MC and the villain if the character goes this route, but I don’t want it to feel like it’s rushed :D

I also spent last weekend, and will be spending all weekends, on starting the spruce up of Book One! That’s been seriously fun to read back through that! It’s not going to be anything major, catching any remaining bugs and spelling errors, matching things up better to later events, etc. But I did realise just how much Book One feels like a different style than Two and Three, so I want to update it to feel more like how I write now, which is a bit of an undertaking. My plan is to make it not too obvious but make the whole series feel more cohesive!

Just shows how much our styles can adapt and change as we evolve as creators!

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, but I’ll talk to you all again on next week!

[fir3ylolol]

hi fir3y :3333 can we have more johnny cage x camera stuff (anything related, nothing specific; cameras in house, recording w phone etc) w him having a long time crush for y/n 😁 kind of like how you did w smile! you're on camera (i cant remember if i sent this if i already did im sorry 😥😥)

dazed and confused

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: it's been a while since you've seen your good friend johnny. but what happens when long-time crush mixes with weed?

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, blowjob, eating out, cunnilingus, long-time crush, weed usage, intoxicated sex, loss of inhibitions, praise, filmed, sex tape, cumming inside, cum eating, putting on a show, whimpering men heheheh, afab!reader, gn reader

a/n: YAYYY finally another post!! its been forever. this was requested by @keiiikomegumi. gotta love men who fall hard and fuck desperately O.O also i think this is the longest fic other than we want you! ive ever written lol

word count: 2.65 k

Ao3

It’s been about 3 weeks since you last saw Johnny, which kinda sucks. He’s always a lot of fun, and you’ve been really stressed lately. So when you get his text reading, “come over 4 dinner, we can chill 0.o”, you quickly respond, “see u thennn”. You leave shortly afterward, excited to finally relax. You roll into his driveway after about 30 minutes of driving, seeing Johnny’s shadowed figure standing in the doorway. You hop out excitedly, walking over and capturing him in a tight hug. He laughs, hugging you back just as tight. “Hey! I’ve missed you, it’s been wayyyy too long. Come in, I’ve already got some food ready.” You walk in, drinking in the familiar sight of his home. You see the table set, two spots right next to each other, with a suspicious look on his face.

“So what do you have in store for me?” You sit down, watching as he disappears into the kitchen. “Well, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and so have I. So…” He walks out, a large silver plate covered with a cloche. “I figured we deserved a treat,” he says with a smirk, lifting it and revealing two brownies. Realization hits you hard. You see, this is California, and if there’s any pastime Californians love, it’s getting high. Johnny is no different; in fact, he likes edibles more, since he says smoking will “damage his star-quality voice and flawless skin.” But he lives a stressful life, and he needs a break just as much as you. So seeing two, delicious-looking brownies on separate plates, you know exactly why you were invited. And you nearly cry.

“Johnny…” you smile up at him, “thank you. So much.” His eyes light up, placing the plates down for you two as he sits down next to you. “Yay, I knew you would be happy! Ok, I’ve got plenty of snacks in the fridge and cold ass water, so we’re set.” He picks his brownie up, and you follow, clinking them together like glasses before taking a bite. It’s rich, fudgy, and absolutely one of the best brownies you’ve ever had. With a mouthful of food, you try to speak, “Schit manm, ‘his is schoo good.” He laughs at you, finishing his bite before speaking, “It’s been barely a month and you’ve forgotten your manners?” You smack him lightly, before standing up and getting a glass of water, downing the whole thing. He follows you, giving you a big hug from behind. He’s rocking back and forth, face buried in your neck. He’s always been more touchy with you than his other friends, but you don’t mind. He’s warm and gentle and always smells fancy. But you laugh, rocking with him. “The room’s already spinning, oooooh.” He lifts you slightly, walking through the kitchen. “You’re so high, oh noooo!” He set you down, laughing still. “You’re so much fun, I missed you.”

You feel a slight twinge in your heart, the words must mean more to you than it does to him. You’ve been a little glad not to see him honestly, but only because your feelings for him have gotten that intense. A break was just what you needed, but now? When you’re going to be wasted and he’s just so nice and so close? You might break. But for now, you appear cool laughing as well before managing to say, “I missed you too” without seeming suspicious. And you start to fall into the same routine as usual, he leads you to the couch to chill together and watch something fun. He used to go to the cinema room, but once he got too high, watched Rambo on the big screen, and had a panic attack. Plus, you can’t cuddle in there, and he can’t stand for that, loudly declaring that he’ll rip the chairs out every time you two go in there. But he never does. You two end up talking about the weeks you didn’t see him. He’s been working on a new film, but won’t reveal any details other than it’s “based on a super true story”. And he laments how hard you’ve been working, trying to convince you again, “You should just quit and hang with me all the time. It would be awesome.” But alas, you turn him down again, as tempting as it is.

Before you know it, it’s been almost two hours, and you’re definitely feeling it more, the buzzing in your brain is a little louder, and Johnny’s touch gives you more goosebumps. But he leans back suddenly, looking you up and down. “Wait, I just realized, I can’t remember the last time you told me one of your famous bad date stories. What’s going on?” You fluster at his words, so direct and to the point that you can’t think for a second. You finally manage to speak again, your tongue feeling a little too heavy, “I’ve just been busy, man.” He scrunches up his face, thinking deeply. “When was the last time you got some? You know…” He nudges you, eyebrows raised suggestively. You take an embarrassingly long pause before speaking again. “...a year.” 

He leans forward, directly in front of your face. “A year?! How are you even alive??” You push him as playfully as you can, completely flustered by the whole thing. “Quit it, it’s not funny!” He sighs dramatically, splayed out across the couch. “So what’s up? Someone catch your eye or something?” You pause again, trying not to look at him, but your mouth betrays you. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s fine, he doesn’t like me like that.” He scoffs, head still tipped back, “What an idiot. You’re awesome. He’s really lucky I don’t just snatch you away for myself.” His whole body freezes as if he said something he didn’t mean to. You look at him, eyes wide and muscles tense. “W…what?” You ask tentatively. But he stands up, walking away while waving his arms around, “Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” But you can see the tips of his ears are bright red, and he’s tapping his foot on the ground, something he only does when nervous. You stand up and walk over, staying behind him. “Johnny, it’s something. Just tell me, it’ll be ok.” He takes a deep breath before speaking, still turned away from you. “I said he was lucky I didn’t take you for myself. I didn’t mean to say it, but honestly, it’s true. I mean, what kind of idiot doesn’t like the most stunning person alive? I just…I said too much, and I didn’t want to weird you out because you’re such a great friend and…” He’s babbling on, saying way too much and not making a ton of sense.

But you grab his hand lightly, which causes him to turn around. His eyes are watery, his cheeks and the tip of his nose are red, and his mouth is scrunched up in a frown. You can’t help but smile at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “Do you like me, Johnny?” He nods like a child, free hand coming up to wipe his eyes. “I like you too,” you say with a smile, no longer nervous or guilty of your feelings. He sniffles, looking at you with his wide brown eyes, “Really? You do?” As you nod, he sort of snaps back to usual, but not in a performative way, in a happy way. “Well of course you do! Who could resist all this?” He smiles before pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear before he pulls away. But not fully, as you two lock eyes, and the air grows thick again. You swallow hard, eyes darting across his face nervously. He cups your face with his left hand, and slowly leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It’s exactly like him, warm and gentle, and it makes you dizzy. In fact, you feel your knees buckle slightly, which he laughs at into the kiss. As he pulls away to breathe again, you can’t help but feel hungry for more. You’ve only gotten a taste of what you’ve wanted for so long, and it’s very appetizing.

Johnny quickly pulls you back to the couch, barely able to think before you find yourself on his lap, hands wandering around your back, eyes locked onto yours. His touch is even more intoxicating than normal, with heavy breathing and racing hearts shared between you two. One hand reaches your neck, pulling you back in. But he’s not as gentle this time, like he’s trying to devour you whole. His other hand is on your hip, guiding you to grind against him slowly. Your hands wrap around his neck loosely. He groans into your mouth, squeezing tighter. You feel his tongue in your mouth, desperate for more of you, more than there is. You can feel yourself growing wetter, so high that your previous inhibitions are gone. Everything is happening so fast, and you’re starting to feel desperate.

He finally breaks away, panting heavily, before looking at you needily. And with how pretty his flushed face is and how badly he wants you, you can’t help but slide down to the floor between his legs. His pupils are blown out, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He tries desperately to pull his pants down quickly, struggling slightly.  But he finally frees himself, cock bouncing out as the angry red tip leaks out. He’s embarrassed, turning his head away slightly, but keeping his eyes locked on you. You have no time to tease, absolutely hungry for him, for this. You take him in your mouth, getting most of the way down before you stop, looking up at him sweetly. He gasps, eyes wide and hands clutching at the couch cushions. You start to move, swirling your tongue around him as you keep a steady pace. His eyelids are fluttering, and very quickly he darts his hands out to grab your face lightly, bringing you up to face him. “C-can I film you? I just…I’ve wanted this for so long and you just look so pretty and I just…I don’t want to forget this, any detail of this.” 

You nod lazily, a smile spreading across your lips as you watch him scramble for his phone. He holds it up, hands shaking as he starts filming. You decide to put on a show for him, looking up through your lashes as you go down again, able to get almost all the way down, gagging slightly. He white knuckles the phone, staring at you intensely. His other hand comes up, grabbing your hair in one hand. His voice rasps out, “Wanna see that face, all of it. God, you’re so good at this. Fuck…” He sighs as you reach your hand out, starting to stroke him as you lean your head down, licking at his balls. He jumps slightly, but the most lovely whine escapes his lips, so you continue, trying to overwhelm him with pleasure. And overwhelm him you do, as he starts squirming back and forth at the intensity of it all, more heady whines. He finally remembers to hold the camera steady, trying to still himself. But as you go down again, rapid and sloppy moves, eyes watering as you look up again, his grasp on your hair tightens. He cries out as he cums, shuddering as you keep going, swallowing it all. You pull off with a pant, looking into the camera and sticking out your tongue to show what you did. He’s breathing hard, letting go of your hair and going slightly slack on the couch. But he tugs at your shirt, pulling it over your head. Even fucked out, he wants more.

You stand up, half-naked, and he tries his hardest to get your pants off too. But his hands are too shaky, and he’s trying to keep his grip on the camera. So you step back and slowly peel them off for him, and you can see his cock twitch slightly at the sight of you. You climb back on top of him, kissing him gently. But he leans to the side, propping the phone against the arm of the couch, and flips to the front camera. He shuffles down a little, leaning slightly to pull his pants down further as you pull his shirt off, wanting to feel his warm skin against yours. He kisses your cheek, and down your neck, reveling in the way you arch your back at the feeling. He whispers out shakily, “You ready? Gonna put a show on for me?” You nod, head dizzy again, as he rubs himself against you, audibly groaning at the feeling. He has no time to waste, sinking into you with a heady whimper. You gasp, taking a second to adjust to him, feeling his hands cling to your hips.

But it’s not long before he’s bucking up into you, using his grip on you for leverage. He’s bit down on your shoulder, whimpers slipping out. Your arms are behind his neck, clinging to him like your life depended on it. You feel him let go, raspy whispers in your ear, “You’re so hot, shit, so tight around me. You like putting on a show for me? Yeah?” You nod, moans pushed out at the force he’s moving now. His voice is shaking more now, but he can’t stop talking, “Shit, I don’t know if it’s the weed talking or what, but you’re so fucking good. Can’t believe I didn’t tell you sooner-” He’s cut off, a whimper as he manages to push deeper, completely enveloped in you. He’s losing his mind, hands wrap around your back for more leverage. But it’s not long before he’s cumming again, a whine as he pushes you down as far as he can. He’s trembling more, heavy pants in your ear. But finally, he’s lifting you and setting you down on the couch. Both of you are breathing heavily, trying to calm down after everything. 

That is until he grabs the phone and puts it in your hands. Confused, you look at him, but suddenly, he’s between your thighs, kneeling on the ground. “Can’t leave you wanting, especially after all that.” He dives in, with no sense of patience, as he sucks at your throbbing clit. His fingers pump inside you, your wetness mixing with his cum. You keep the camera on his face, legs pushed apart as you flinch at your sensitivity. He’s looking up at you, sweet eyes locked on you. He lets go slightly, mumbling into you, “Good job, baby, you’re doing such a good job.” You’re moaning, high-pitched, and slipping from your lips. He’s whining into your sopping cunt, vibrations against your clit causing more jumps. But you cling to him, eyes screwed shut as you cum hard, feeling his tongue lapping everything up with fervor. He finally separates from you, sitting down on the couch with an exhale.

He takes the phone, stopping the recording as he puts his arm around you. “I’ll save those for later,” he says, making you giggle slightly, but you’re quite tired. “We should get high more often, huh?” You snuggle into him, enjoying the feeling of his heartbeat under your ear. “Maybe. But hey, those videos better not get leaked or anything.” Your words cause him to whine out, slightly annoyed. “Come on, you know me! I would never. Besides…it would make too many people jealous, you know? Such a pretty thing like you, all for myself.” You laugh again before looking up at him, sleepy but happy eyes. “You’re stuck with me now, by the way.” He hugs you tight, squeezing you with a wide smile on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[violettaskies]

To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

(ch. 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader

Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn

Notes: this will have a three installments // this chapter is just the intro honestly lol so sorry if it’s boring build up // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader goes to confession and her priest is a little mean with his words (at the beginning), slight manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink // masturbation //please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!

ao3 // chapter two // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist

-:-:-:-:-

Every other Sunday was for confession. While other members of the family went on Wednesdays or Saturdays, you always chose Sundays since it would start the week off on a clean slate.

Not that there was much to confess about. Oftentimes, you would walk from your house to the church a few hours after mass ended, maybe feeling a bit guilty about your thoughts, rarely was it ever your actions. One day, you came in to tell the priest about how angry you got at your parents when they grounded you for accidentally falling asleep in church. You didn’t lash out at them, of course; but, you did curse them in your head — not honouring thy father and mother very well.

Then there was an instance three years ago at the homecoming dance. One girl had on the most beautiful baby blue dress you had ever seen, while you were stuck with a hand-me-down gown of the same colour. You prayed aloud that night in front of your bed, that you would one day have the opportunity to wear a dress as nice as hers. But the prayer backfired when your mother overheard, then told you to march to the church the following morning to confess how you broke the tenth commandment of coveting thy neighbour’s goods.

As a whole, you thought there were never any major moments in your life where you sinned gravely. That was until you went to your friend’s house for Bible study on Saturday night. She hosted it weekly, and invited all the kids from school. Needless to say, only a handful of people appeared. Not that it wasn’t fun, the six of you would always spend a few hours going over passages, and then eat a nice dinner afterwards. Truly, you looked forward to it since there weren’t other things you were invited to in town.

So when this past Saturday rolled around where the first epistle to the Corinthians was read, specifically the sixth chapter and eighteenth verse — your group started to analyze it as normal. But, little did you know that this was the day your heart would drop the hardest it ever has.

‘The sexually immoral person sins against their own body,’ the people in the room repeated the verse over and over, like a chant taunting you and your actions.

It was the first time you walked into the confessional on a Sunday afternoon with shaky legs and an intensely beating heart. You told the priest what you told your friend, trying to rid yourself of the sins you unknowingly committed. But he stopped you, his voice only getting louder as he gave you guidance on your next steps. ‘Stop doing that,’ he said, ‘God may not be so quick to forgive you if you give into the Devil’s temptations so often.’ Then after he assigned you a penance of five Hail Marys and going through the rosary twice, you were gone.

All you could think as you took your first steps outside, were words that should never cross your mind. Not now, not ever.

If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?

-:-:-:-:-

As the day ended, and a new week of school began — your guilt never went away. Teasing you from the back of your subconscious as you walked home, ate dinner, and failed at doing some homework that was due a few days later.

It had been three days since the last time you unknowingly sinned, two days since you found out what it was, and one day since the priest’s voice scared you to the point of no return. Everything affected you gravely, that even once you walked into school Monday morning, the noises from the other students became a muffled and chaotic mess in your ears. So much so, that as you were shakily getting things out of your locker, you didn’t even notice movement from the one next to yours.

“You look stressed, sweetheart.” The voice startled you, only amplifying your inner-guilt, since you spent the past few moments focusing on shutting the voices up in your head, rather than greeting your favourite locker neighbour.

But what made you feel guiltiest of all, was that he is the one who inspired these sins of yours.

The throbbing ache between your legs felt good, and the way your pillow helped relieve that ache felt even better. If you were able to feel this level of delight every night, then why not think of someone who made you feel the same way? — the question plagued your mind nightly, during the moments you were oblivious to committing a sin.

Little did you know that it was truly sexual in meaning.

There was only one person who made you feel equally as amazing with their words and actions. Your locker neighbour to the right, Eddie Munson.

Several moments replayed in your head. Like the time he kept calling you ‘pretty girl’ because you decided to wear a skirt on the first day of Spring. Then, you remember how his calloused fingers felt when they were so close to your face after he brushed your hair from your neck; making sure to linger on your sensitive skin before mentioning how beautiful the silver crucifix looked on you. There were so many times after that too. From his deep voice whispering in your ear to ask if you needed a ride home while you both were in study hall; to his arms wrapping a sweater around your shoulders during lunch when the school’s heater broke. The Hawkins townspeople claimed him as a spawn of the Devil, but you named him as the only true friend you had. The only person to make the butterflies in your stomach tingle every time he spoke to you.

“I-I’m not, it’s just I can see now why Mondays aren’t people’s favourite,” you responded, still staring into the vastness of your locker. Thinking about how your start to the week wasn't so great as it usually is.

Eddie had opened the metal door completely, removing the barrier between the two of you. “But, Mondays are always your favourite because you get to see me after a painstakingly long forty-eight hours,” he pouted while trying to get you to giggle at his dramatics.

It worked.

“Well, I normally see you around the fourth period. This is the earliest you’ve been at school for a while.”

“Mondays are the worst because my homeroom teacher loves putting tests at the buttcrack of dawn,” Eddie groaned, while holding up the notes you loaned him at the beginning of the year since you already took the biology course before.

“Well, good luck, I’m gonna go—” no matter how much you loved talking to him, and how warm he made you feel, Eddie was part of your current predicament. So seeing him now made your heart ache in the worst way.

As you went to grab the locker door to close it, Eddie lightly grabbed your wrist. “I saw you leaving the church yesterday. You looked so,” he paused, moving his head downwards to meet you at eye-level, before continuing. “Sad, you looked so sad. I even called out your name a few times so I could give you a ride home, but you kept walking, so I assumed you didn’t hear me.”

So it was the Devil’s spawn shouting your name as you made your way home; not the Devil himself making you feel guilty for your actions. It was just your friend who wanted to look out for you.

Eddie continued: “or maybe you’re ignoring me,” he pouted with feign-sadness.

“Oh, uh-uhm it was just a really tiring day and I guess the voices in my head were too loud,” it was only partially a lie.

“If something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me, honestly,” this one was a lie, and it came out a bit too easily. But all you could focus on now was the feeling of Eddie’s thumb stroking small circles on the soft skin of your wrist.

He looked you up and down suspiciously before saying, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do.”

“So whatever is going through your mind, let me know. Who am I to judge anyways?” He winked before letting go of your wrist.

You nodded, seriously contemplating if you wanted to have a confessional with your little Devil. Just as you stared at him with eyes full of conflict, the bell rang. Instead of responding, you softly said your farewell. “Anyways, see you later during fourth period, if you decide to come again.”

It was the only class Eddie had a perfect attendance score in, but he would never let you know that you’re the reason why.

-:-:-:-:-

By the time English class rolled along, you didn’t realize just how much your body was moving itself robotically. Going through the movements you’ve been so used to doing for the years you’ve been in high school. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, thankfully. First period was a calculus lesson, history happened afterwards with a lecture on the French Revolution, then a substitute showed up for geography during third period so that was a boring class. All throughout those hours, you kept quiet; because the wrath of the Angel on your shoulder, condemning you for your sins, was becoming far too much. To even think about answering questions the teachers asked was mentally exhausting.

It all came to a peak once you sat on your chair for fourth period English — the only class you had with Eddie this semester, and of course, the only class everyone sat at long desks that held two people. As you looked out the window to the dark blue skies of Autumn, your conscience kept telling you to be careful. You were about to sit next to the boy who amplified your senses as you sinned. Goodness knows how he’ll react to the news if you told him.

What would he think if he found out you think about his hands helping guide your hips nightly, or his voice telling you ‘you’re so beautiful’ when you finally find the climax of your relief, or his lips kissing your —

“You’re still so tense,” the voice brought you out of your haze for the second time today. But this time, Eddie’s warm hand was on the top of your left thigh; the set of thighs you unknowingly went from bouncing one second to squeezing together the next.

“Just tired, maybe I’ll nap when I get home,” you sighed. Truly, it has been three days since the bane of your guilt was committed. You could barely sleep now that you’ve stopped doing your nightly routine.

“Take a nap in my van, I have cute pillows in there,” he scrunched his nose as he teased you, then released your thigh to stretch his arms in the air.

Thinking of how your class went to the zoo for a field trip once, and Eddie found the scariest-looking bats cute, you replied sweetly: “your definition of cute is not really the same as mine.”

“But, I think you’re cute, don’t you?” Eddie loved to make you blush with his not-so-suave comments. Said it was practice for whenever he goes to the bars and flirts with girls there. But he never was able to make them flustered in the way you always were.

You saw the teacher walk into class in your peripheral vision, and prayed that would mean you didn’t need to talk to your locker and desk neighbour for the next three quarters of an hour. “I’m not,” you shyly say while looking away from The Dealer completely.

“You’re such a good girl too,” his voice was deeper than normal.

He was wrong. So wrong. The guilt in your heart only deepens as his words echo in your ear, along with the voices of your priest telling you need to repent for your sins. If this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, of course the muse of your sinful thoughts believes you’re a good girl when you aren’t.

“I-I’m—” your words are saved by the bell and your teacher’s voice which booms through the classroom. You thought you were safe, thought that until lunch you could get away with not looking at the boy who makes you unknowingly rub your legs together. But no, the day that was going downhill, just hit rock bottom.

“This class is a bit different, it will be a work period since I’m assigning you a small project due Wednesday. That’s not a lot of time, so today will be a work period then tomorrow we will have a lesson. I hope that you all can get the project finished after school over the next couple days.”

Doing a small project wouldn't be so bad, would it? The curiousity sat in your brain momentarily before your thoughts went haywire. The teacher paired you off, specifically with the people you were sitting next to, where each duo would need to analyze and present a different chapter of The Picture of Dorian Gray. So after a beat of silence once the teacher’s explanation was over, the class erupted in murmured voices and squeaky chairs. But you couldn’t get yourself to move to face your project partner.

“Don’t kill me but, we may need to finish this tonight because tomorrow—”

“You have your g-gig, I remember,” spreading out your time with Eddie would have helped your intensifying sinful thoughts subside. At least until you got over your bad habit. But now, you both had to do this for your grades — mainly his — so there was no time to lose. Maybe this could be a positive distraction.

“How about we work on it today right after school so we can get it over with?” he suggests.

“Alright, I guess skipping band practice one time wouldn’t be so bad,” you start shaking your left leg again. If you were a sinner, why not fall down the path of delinquency — your tendency to accept defeat a little too quickly, and then spiral, was catching up to you now.

Eddie notices, and touches your thigh again to calm you down like he has so many times before, even a few minutes ago. Although now, you move your leg away from his grip. “No, no, no, you go be a good girl and head to band practice, then I’ll pick you up afterwards and we'll run to the library,” he says trying not to sound disappointed that you backed away from his touch.

“I’ll finish probably a little after half-past three today since there’s only one song to practice,” you state while opening the book to the assigned chapter. “What will you do while you wait?”

“Oh, you know, maybe do some buying and selling,” The Dealer says nonchalantly.

“Shopping?” you ask innocently.

“Of sorts,” he mimes the act of smoking a joint in your direction, and you look at him curiously before understanding what he meant. You remember your father telling you it’s not a good idea to be friends with your locker neighbour because he’s a sinner who does the Devil’s drugs.

Guess he rubbed off on you, while you rubbed off on something else.

The pang of guilt hit you again. Like a stab to the heart from God himself. Tonight, you’ll do penance until you sleep, before the Devil on your shoulder tells you to commit your sinfully bad habit again. “R-right,” you say quietly. “Let’s get started then, you have to stay focused, Eddie, do you promise?”

“Pinky promise, my dear,” he grabs your fingers that are so much smaller than his, and hooks his pinky onto yours. “Only if you promise to focus too. You’ve been zoning out all day long. When you walk from class to class it looks like you’re constantly about to puke.”

“I do not,” you say in a defiant whisper.

“So do,” he teases. “Listen, if I promise to stay focused the entire time while we try and finish this project, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting this way. It’s worrying me.”

You pause, looking at Eddie’s weirdly mischievous eyes as he starts to rub the bottom of your back. “There’s nothing really bothering me, though.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you, pretty girl?” his fingers started circling in a pattern that brought pleasurable shivers up your spine. After years of giving you featherlight touches — because that’s what friends do, he said one day — he knew exactly where to grasp your body to make you relax.

“Let me think about it,” you slightly give in. However, you can’t get yourself to admit, again, how badly you want to confess your sins to the one who inspired them.

He notices how you started to squeeze your thighs together again during this class. “That’s all I ask,” Eddie chuckles before moving his hands to your waist to move your body closer to himself. “Now, don’t kill me again, but I didn’t read the chapter. Or the book, so,” he elongated the last word while looking at you with feign-innocence with his doe eyes and pursed lips.

One thing you unknowingly did admit, was just how easily you were able to fall for his manipulative ways.

-:-:-:-:-

As Eddie waited in his van for you to come out of band practice, all he could think about was how strange you’ve been acting throughout the day. You were always one to talk to him in shy tones as he would talk your ear off in any given conversation. Today was different though, and he wasn’t able to place a finger on it. What hurt him most was when you reacted to his touch by moving your leg away — a move you haven’t done in the years you had gotten used to his touch. Then, you didn’t join him for lunch like you did every Monday and Friday, since the other days you would be asked to join the band or church group tables.

Something was off, and Eddie feels like it has something to with the downcast image of you walking through Hawkins on Sunday afternoon. Today, he was going to figure it out.

Ever since the man found out his locker was next to yours on the first day of Freshman year, The Dealer became obsessed with you. Not that you noticed him often — Eddie was notorious for skipping class so much that even though you went to your locker between every class, you would only see him once a day during that year of high school. However, he definitely noticed you: your shyness, the way you kept your head down as you roamed the hallways to the next period, and how you had a tendency of jumping a little every time you closed your locker and saw him standing there at his.

The small silver crucifix that was dangling on your neck was the icing on the cake for Eddie. Realizing then, that you were an innocent Angel who went to Bible study and mass every week. While he could only ask God why He put him in such a shitty place with even shittier parents.

Your innocence astounded him — like when people would joke around about how you didn’t know what sex was, all you would do is blush; or how one time a Senior basketball player walked up to your locker and invited you on a date. He was infamous for keeping a list of all the girls he took the virginities of, and you were his next target. The only thing you did though, was thank him and tell him that Bible study was scheduled to be a long one this week so you would rather go to that.

Something possessive leaped out of Eddie that day as he overheard the conversation from behind the metal door. He had to have you, had to know what it was like to roam your mind. He would do anything to make sure you were his.

So he did. Slowly, as the days passed, he would start talking to you more, trying to get you out of your little shell. You were so quiet that sometimes he would need to get close to your figure as you spoke — not that he minded of course. Eddie genuinely did love your innocence and how you didn’t even realize that he was being a flirtatious pervert when he complimented you. That every time he mentioned you were wearing something nice that day, he would go home and picture fucking you in only that piece of clothing or jewelry. His favourite, being the image of you wearing only that tiny silver crucifix you both loved so much.

Then there were the touches you had grown accustomed to. Eddie would invite you to sit with him during lunch — where he would lightly touch your fingers as he went to steal a fry off your tray. Afterwards, he would take his perverted compliments further, by straightening out the fabric of your skirt or shirt collar for you even if it just came from the dry cleaners. The Dealer would do anything to have an excuse to caress your skin for one moment.

You had asked him one day when you had visited his home to watch a movie: “you touch me a lot, why?”

“Do you not like it? Sorry, I just really enjoy—” if he wasn’t already worried about the fact that you were in his trailer for the first time, his heart dropped at the thought that you might hate him for his touch.

“No,” you would never want to make Eddie feel guilty for his actions. Youth group lessons taught you better than that, since it was only right to be accepting of everyone. “What I mean is, I don’t see many other friends do that with each other and I feel bad for them.”

It was his turn to be curious now. “What do you mean?”

“Your touches are nice, Eddie, so soft and sweet. I wish that all people would feel as nice as this with their friends too.” Look at you being charitable with your experiences — when these touches were only meant for you.

“That’s what friends do, they find ways to make their friends feel good.”

“Do you want me to do it for you too?” you reach out to touch his shoulder awkwardly, but you weren’t one to enjoy touching other people yourself.

“Not if you don’t want to. You make me feel good by being there for me when I need it. While I do the same for you, when you need someone to support you,” it’s true; even through all his indecent intentions, Eddie truly found an innocent and friendly warmth within himself for you, besides his love of wanting to be more than friends.

You look at him with sweet eyes to innocently ask the next question. “Then may you please rub my back like you do sometimes? It makes my heartbeat calm down and this movie is scary.”

“Of course, Angel,” it was right then, Eddie realized how much he loved it when you were needy.

“I wish I could have you do this whenever my cousins want to watch horror movies with me. Honestly, my parents don’t even know I’m here. But I just like your tou–”

“Tsk tsk, so naughty. Where do they think you are?”

“Am not,” you exclaimed and Eddie could tell your heart was beating a lot faster than before so he started to rub sweet circles on your back. “Plus, they think I’m watching a movie at a friend’s house, just don’t know who. It’s not a lie. I’m still a good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he proclaimed deeply, realizing his rebel tendencies have inspired you. While you nearly moaned as your heartbeat stabilized, his touch and his voice made you feel so much better.

When Eddie was home alone that night, he couldn’t stop replaying the small whimpers of yours he memorized. If it was the hormones, or your innocent eagerness to be alone with him and let him touch you — he would never know which one he loved more.

Eddie was a sinner, he knew that, and was able to empower himself with the label. No matter how many times people around Hawkins would rebuke him as the Devil, or how often he would get stares from kids at school as he started to talk to you more: none of it phased him. What he loved most about you was how easily your innocence became obliviousness when it came to his sins – that you would hear about them and refuse to believe he was such a bad person because he was always so nice to you. Eddie couldn’t seem to understand why.

What he did understand though, was that his biggest sin was that every damn day of his life he was on the path of no return when it came to wanting to corrupt your virtue. To make all of his fantasies become a reality as he wanted to slowly make you addicted to him.

Did you figure it out? Is that why you were so awkward with him throughout the day? Why did you beg for his familiar touch in his memories, but pull away today?

Eddie’s mind moved at a million miles a minute, unsure of what was going on. But one thing was for sure: he was going to find out exactly what was hurting you, and he was going to do everything in his power to relieve that pain.

A small tap on the driver door window brought him out of his overstimulated thoughts. “Are you ready to go?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier, but Eddie was able to hear you before nodding.

He chuckled at your tendency to knock everywhere before you entered. Even with the van, you never approached it first unless he was already in it, or opened the door for you — that was mainly because The Dealer wanted to have some semblance of being a gentleman to you, even if he took that opportunity to touch your back to guide you into your seat.

“So the library?” Eddie asked as he watched you put your bag on the floor and straighten your skirt in the seat, not looking him in the eye as you respond.

“Y-yeah, it probably won’t be crowded since it’s a Monday.”

You were wrong, so wrong. It looks like all of the English teachers assigned similar group projects to their classes, since the library was filled to the brim with students from all grades cooped up at tables. You started to get nervous, the library was going to be your saving grace as you worked on this project.

“Should we go to my place?” He asked while tugging on the strap of your backpack lightly to get your attention.

“No,” you exclaimed a little too loudly, shocking Eddie a bit. “We can j-just go to mine instead.”

If you two finished the tasks at his trailer, then you felt as if it was walking into the Devil’s lair — a place where Eddie sinned like your parents said he did. The memories of the times your friend made you feel warm were enough to commit your treacherous acts; goodness knows how you’ll be when you’re in a room where everything is him.

While bringing the Devil reincarnate into your home wasn’t the best idea, your house had your Bible and other religious paraphernalia to protect you from giving into temptation. But, that’s also the place where you committed your unknowing sin, night after night — you thought.

These conflicting thoughts were about to be the death of you, as long as the annoying throbbing between your legs and Eddie’s teasingly sinister voice didn’t get you first.

-:-:-:-:-

[tummyhurtslol]

first post! hope this reaches some people who are interested:)

about a week ago i drank some prune juice, and it was quite the experience lol. i know prune juice is known to rile up your stomach, so i really wanted to try it hehe

and omg it did, my stomach was a giant bloated gurgling mess for the whole night and even into the morning. i really loved it though, my stomach was really turning me on and i wished someone was there with me😩

now i did cut a lot of clips in here because i know not everyone is into the scat/diarrhea, maybe in the future though if enough people want it i can do it! i also am not showing my tummy for privacy reasons, but i may sell or even trade some! i do have all of the clips from night this with my stomach in them, so if you want these in specific or something different just message me!

————————————————————————

i was at work for 10 hours and didn’t eat anything at all. i was hungry, but i saw the prune juice i’d bought for a special occasion and i thought this was the perfect opportunity to get the full effect. i told myself i would drink half, but i pussied out after about 2 cups bc it was really really gross😭. (maybe it’s a good thing i did bc who knows how it could have gone if i did half lol)

and quite literally only about 30 minutes after drinking i started to feel something going on in my tummy. it just kinda felt like gas building up, not a whole lot of gurgling but definitely pressure.

then at the hour mark is when i knew it was working, my stomach started to gurgle like crazy and it felt like water was rushing through my intestines, it was kinda crazy. my belly was starting to bloat like a balloon, it was getting really big which at the time was surprising to me because the prune juice was the only thing in there lol. it wasn’t really uncomfortable yet, just super active lol

but then as time starts to pass it gets more and more uncomfortable, the bloating was a lot and making my stomach literally HUGE. it started to cramp up a lot, and about another hour later i knew that all that built up gas/diarrhea wanted out. i tried to hold it for a little while, but it was pushing really hard and i could only clench for so long 😭

the first bathroom trip was surprisingly the easiest, once the first round came out i did feel a lot of relief, but i knew it wasn’t over. i went a couple more times and then went to lay back down thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. but about 10 minutes later i was proven very very wrong lol

I was just laying in my bed when literally my entire abdomen cramped up and sent a very deep gurgle that told me i had to go right then. i barely even grabbed my phone in time to record and unfortunately didn’t get any of the gurgles before i went the first time because it was just so urgent and sudden lmaoo, and after that it was more so a lot of diarrhea and not a lot of gurgles so the videos for that trip weren’t the best sorry lol

after that second trip though i thought i might’ve gotten most of the diarrhea out maybe just some gas left, but again was proven very wrong lol. i again was laying down when i got another cramp that felt very urgent, so ran back to the bathroom and my stomach definitely let me have it this time. this one was probably the worst, the cramps were so intense and my stomach just felt like it was getting squeezed until everything came out 😭 i stayed there for a while, because i didn’t wanna have to keep running back and forth. i spent about 45 minutes sitting there and i spent a lot of it just clenched at my stomach because it was quite painful, but i still really enjoyed it 😅 but you could definitely hear some of those cramps in the video, they were crazy lol

then i was finally able to relax for about 45 minutes, until i felt another deep and urgent gurgle. i was surprised i still had anything left in me😅 but this time it was a bit less painful, and i was really really enjoying the gurgles. there was one point during this one where i pushed right on my lower belly and it created a huge gurgle and a push of diarrhea, it felt soooooo good😍 but the diarrhea didn’t last long and it was about 2am at this point so i was really tired, and my stomach stopped hurting enough for me to fall asleep.

i did wake up once around 5am to go to the bathroom again, but since i was woken up by it i didn’t grab my phone sorry:( it was really kinda hot though how i immediately woke up to this giant gurgle from my stomach and i just knew i had to go lol, i wish i had it recorded😅 but then i fell back asleep and woke up in the morning to just a very gassy tummy, but no more diarrhea. i felt the effects all day though, i was super gassy and my stomach definitely still felt a little heavy and bloated. i didn’t feel completely back to normal until the day after that lol, so it definitely sent my stomach for a ride.

overall though, it was such a fun experience and i really wanna do it again. the gurgles from this were like no other and i could feel them throughout my entire abdomen, it was so hot😍 i don’t really mind the pain that much, i especially like it if someone is there to help ease the pain:) but yes, i will probably be doing this again hopefully soon, because i loved this experience and i hope you guys love it too!

[minjiarchive]

our lustful vacation | yoohyeon x fem!reader

thank u everyone for their suggestions! this is the fic inspired by that one yoohyeon photo i posted. i also decided to use capitals in this writing since its a longer piece lol 😭

warning / smut

“How does that feel?”

"It feels nice actually... thank you.” You straddled her waist while she laid on her stomach, massaging her tense muscles in hope to release some of that tension she has. Yoohyeon couldn't be happier. She's finally had time to spend more time with you – in fact, she was the one who planned this whole vacation out.

Jeju Island.

But she planned it with just you of course. Her members simply understood why she only booked two tickets and actually teased you both a lot about it since you two were going alone. But, with a break from cameras in her face 24/7 and a packed schedule. She was ready to spend this week with the love of her life without any of that.

Yoohyeon was so excited that she couldn't help but buy a couple of new dresses and clothes to wear for you. The outfit she wore tonight was plain white, with a lace tank top (almost suitable for lingerie), and stunning shorts that looked like a skirt in a way.

When you saw her in that for the first time, she could already tell you were trying your best not to touch her right then and there. With the revealing slit of one of her legs, you definitely couldn't deny that your actions were close to speaking for you. You held back though and instead, suggested giving her a massage instead to clear your mind about your loud thoughts of her, but it only made it worse.

One of the straps of her top fell past her shoulders, leaving the other strap so tempting to just slip the whole top off at this point. Each satisfied moan she let out every time you rubbed down on the right spot drove you crazy.

Not only does she tease you in such a gorgeous outfit that she'd know you would go feral over but she moans your name in such a way that it was more than satisfied. “Oh fuck, Y/N, right there...”

You couldn't take it anymore. You kneaded her back one more time before stopping to rest your hands at your sides, you were being cautious now. Swearing to yourself that if you did anything more with your hands, you'd lose all your control by then.

“Was that it baby? God, do your hands feel good on me.”

“Lay on your back, Yoohyeon.” You instructed, getting up from your original position to stand while she listens and flips herself over to lay down on the bed again. You came back up to straddle her once more but this time, you purposely grind yourself down on her, feigning any innocence you had left in you.

Her top was more revealing than before. Both of her straps were down now, it was like she was calling to you to undress her. She was really starting to mess with you now.

Even her eyes undressed you with her sharp gaze. Don't think too much about it, just ignore it.

Right... you determined to just go with whatever your head was telling you. With shaky hands, you caressed her sides just to have her relax underneath you.

“Where on your body do you feel tense or tight the most?”

She smirked a little at your question, you knew what she was thinking of but you didn't entertain it. You were already going through an intense "Yoohyeon curse" after all. Without speaking, she took your hand and guided it down to her center.

“...Here,” You could feel how hot she was through the thin material of her shorts. Needing to feel just how wet she was, you ran a single finger lightly along her slit causing her to whine and squirm. Her panties were practically ruined by how turned on she got by you.

Yoohyeon tugged at your shirt now, noticing your bruised lips from probably biting them so hard earlier. You wasted no time smashing your lips together. When such a breathtaking girl was showing how much she wanted you, your core throbbed in desperation to be touched.

“You're so bad,” Barely managing to let out in between the kiss. It was like the walls were closing in on you both, her breathing was far from being stable and so was yours.

She'd occasionally break the kiss to remove a piece of clothing off you while you already were working on stripping her. You finally removed everything but her panties which was on purpose. You pressed your palm to her center, applying little pressure to tease her.

When you finally decided it was enough, you hooked your fingers under the waistband and pulled it down to reveal her dripping cunt.

“You're beautiful, Yoohyeon.” She loved it when you worshiped her. Your hands would roam around her body, giving every part all your attention.

You placed a few soft kisses around her pussy, nearing her clit at times but never committing to going there just yet. She felt like this punishment would last for hours of constant edging until you easily dipped two fingers in her.

A loud moan ripped through her throat at your entrance. Your fingers rubbed her G-spot in circular motions, some occasional strokes here and there. Her pleasure didn't stop there though, you used the pad of your thumb to rub her clit as well, sending Yoohyeon on a ride of emotions.

“More, please... Y/N.” She begged, her eyes struggling to keep open as they fluttered shut from all the overwhelming stimulation. Yoohyeon was so tight and wet, even you yourself had to find some type of relief. You started grinding your bare pussy down on her thigh, it was pure bliss and lust.

“Shhh, I will darling. I'll make sure you feel good.” You whispered to her before brushing your lips across her jaw, followed by her neck. You sucked on her soft skin that was waiting to be marked up by you. She whimpered in response, maybe as a way of saying thank you since she couldn't put it in words without a moan interrupting her.

Her hands knotted in your hair, leading your head towards her breasts. Yoohyeon urged you to play with them and so you did. You obeyed everything she wanted you to do. Although you could be a tease when you felt like it, that didn't mean you wouldn't submit to anything she asked.

Your tongue came into contact with her nipple at first. You started toying with it, using the patterns that never failed to double her pleasure. Your free hand though played with her other nipple, gliding your thumb over it.

“Fuck Y/N, I'm-” Yoohyeon cried out loudly as you angled your fingers differently. Her breathing was far from being stable and you were both slowly letting yourselves go as time went on.

“I'm getting so close.”

“Keep going for me love. You're doing great.” Her eyebrows furrowed and her walls clenched around you. Yoohyeon's expression prompted you to quicken your pace. Her hips rolled and raised off the bed, causing your fingers to be buried even deeper in her.

The waves crashed onto the shore the same way your bodies collided together in unison.

“Baby I'm gonna...” She warned as she tried to keep herself together to last a few more seconds. As your fingers hit her sweet spot once more, her hips bucked into air, pushing you into her with force.

“Cum for me, my sweet girl.” Within a few moments, her body jerked and shuddered against you.

You took her to Heaven and back all in one night.

Her moans slowly started to quiet down along with her heaving chest that became steady again. You also slowed down your movements as she rode out her high on your, now, coated fingers still.

“By the way honey, I loved that outfit on you. Wear it again and maybe you'll get what you want.”

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Geto Suguru.

Valentines day on a trip abroad. Beach view. Hectic 🌶️ night. And some heartwarming aftercare? I dont know. Something about Geto splitting you in two and then gently putting the pieces back together give me butterflies. Hope you enjoy. Thank youuu so muuuch. 🧡. Q.

God, I'm going to be thinking of this man violating me in unspeakable ways just to tenderly rebuild me for weeks now. thank you!! this came out a little fluffier than I was expecting but honestly? I'm not complaining lol.

Now Presenting...

Starring Suguru Geto in a hotel suite

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” you asked, smiling at the view from your hotel room’s balcony. The stars were glittering over the water and the moon was full over the beach, creating a truly breathtaking view.

“Mmm,” Suguru hummed into your neck, his arms wrapped around you from behind. “”It’s pretty, yeah. But not nearly as pretty as you..” He purred, causing you to chuckle. You swore you had the cheesiest boyfriend in the world. 

“I gotta say, thank you again for planning this whole trip for us.” You said, turning in his arms to face him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, summoning a charming smile to his face. “It’s a little more extravagant than what I’m used to for Valentine's day honestly, but I’m having a lot of fun!”

“Nothing is too extravagant for you my dear.” Suguru purred, pulling you closer. “It’s our first Valentine's day together, I wanted it to be special.” he said, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. You pulled him closer to you, deeper into the kiss. It was a soft, tender moment. His hand came to rest on the side of your face as the kiss gained in intensity. He pulled you closer to him. He started to lift you up before you pulled away from him. He leaned back in for a second kiss, only to be dodged by you.

“Now now Sugu,” You laughed, untangling yourself from him, “Out on the balcony where everyone can see? Isn’t that a little cheap?” You asked, making your way inside. 

“You're right,” Geto said, closing the balcony door as he followed in behind you. It didn’t take long for his hands to find you again, pulling you into his arms. “For a show that good, we should at least charge.” you laughed at his joke, leaning into the warmth that radiated off of him.

“Oh please, you couldn’t stand the thought of someone else seeing me naked, even if it was while you we’re fucking me.” He grimaced at your statement.

“Look at you, right again.” He confirmed, placing his hand under your chin. “You’re so smart.” he said, pulling you into yet another heated kiss. He pulled your body close to his, and instinctively you melted into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand tangling into his hair. You moaned softly into the kiss. His hands started to roam your body, leaving sparks of electricity in their wake. Funny, even after 8 months together, his touch still gave you goosebumps.

“Sug..” You muttered softly as he moved from kissing your mouth to kissing your neck, surly with intent to leave quite the mark. His hands moved down to squeeze your thighs. You got the message. You braced yourself on his shoulders and hopped into Sugurus arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist for extra security as he took you to the bed. He laid you down and grinned.

“You look beautiful tonight Princess.” He purred. His hands found the hem of your shirt, and he waited for you to nod approvingly before taking it off. You never got over the look on Sugurus face when he took your top off. Like he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life, even if he was seeing it for the 100th time. Sometimes it made you self conscious just how intensely he looked at you. 

Lucky for you though, Tonight he had other plans. He Started to kiss down your body, slowly. From your neck, to your chest, to your stomach to your hips, all the while multitasking to get your pants off. Once past that barrier, he kissed up from your knee to your inner thigh, and finally placing a kiss on your clothed folds. You moaned out softly, your hands going to grab his hair. “Sug, please..” You moaned softly.

“Please what princess?” Your boyfriend asked, encouraging you to use your big girl words. 

“I need you Sir…” You begged.

“Need me to do what?” He asked as he kissed you again. was being cruel. You groaned in frustration. 

“Will you please eat my pussy Sir?” You asked, squirming under him for some friction. He grinned, satisfied with that answer, he finally pulled your panties off. He placed a teasing kiss on your folds, holding you down as you squirmed under him.

“Hold still Princess. Unless you want me to stop?” he threatened.

“No!” you yelped, “No, no, I’ll be good!”

“That's what I thought.” Suguru hummed as he went back to work, his tongue working expert circles into your clit. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He had barely touched you and yet you were soaking wet with anticipation. It was just one of the many reasons he loved you, how eager you were. 

You moaned out and fought the urge to buck your hips as he slid two fingers into you, curling them up and slowly working you open. His mouth continued to work at your clit as his fingers rubbed against your g spot, and it didn’t take long for a welcome not to form in your stomach. You tugged at his hair. “I’m close Sir..” You whimpered.

Instantly Geto pulled away, pulling his shirt over his head as you whined out in frustration. “What's wrong baby girl?” He asked, throwing his shirt to the floor, “You didn’t really think you would be cumming on anything other than my cock on this trip, right?” He teased. He quickly took off his pants and straddled you, pumping his cock to make a show of it. 

“Sirrr…” You moaned, desperate to feel him inside of you again. When it came to Suguru, you often felt like an addict in need of your next fix. You needed him inside of you. 

“Come on Princess, you know the rules. Beg.” Suguru grinned, condescension dripping off of him like thick venom. 

“Ohh, fuck, please fuck me sir! Please, I need to feel your cock inside of me, I need you to fuck me sir, please!” you sounded way more desperate than you were willing to admit. But, it seemed to satisfy your boyfriend. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He teased as he pushed into you and fuck. No matter how many times you had done this, you felt like you’d never adjust. His cock stretched you out in the most perfect ways, ripping you apart at the seams, and right at you thought it would be too much, he bottoms out, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He moans, setting a brutal pace into you. With every movement he makes you see stars. One of his hands comes down to massage expert circles into your clit. Your blood becomes thick with ecstasy as you moan out his name. Lost in everything that was Suguru Geto. “You feel so good Princess,” He pants as he folds you into a mating press. You scream out his name, your legs wrapping around his waist and nails digging into his shoulders. 

In the new position every movement he makes he’s stroking at your g-spot and you know you're not going to last much longer. “Sug, I’m close-!” you announce. The stars start to fill your vision as your brain floods your body with dopamine. Every single nerve ending feels like it’s been lit on fire, and electricity fills you as the knot in your stomach snaps.

Suguru isn’t far behind, your convulsing pussy bringing him to his end. A string of curses and praises leaves him as he cums deep inside you and rides you both out through your highs. “Fuck, you feel so good baby girl.” He moans softly. You whine as he pulls out, suddenly feeling empty. Suguru smiled lovingly at you, kissing your forehead as he helped you set up. “Come on love.” He whispered, taking you to the bathroom to tenderly clean you up.

Once you're back in bed, he leaves one more time to grab you a water bottle, bringing it to you already open. “Do you need anything else darling?” He asked as you took a long sip off the bottle.

“Cuddles?” You asked as you tightened the cap, placing the bottle on the nightstand. Suguru smiled at the simple request, pulling you into his arms as he laid you both down.

“Of course love,” He mumbled, kissing the top of your head lovingly. “Anything for you.” the two of you turned to face the window, curtains still open. “The view really is pretty from here, huh?” You mumbled sleepily as you stared at the giant moon.

“Mmhmm,” Ghetto confirmed, kissing the back of your neck. “But not as pretty as you my darling.”

[vampsickle]

i missed you. ☆ ( anime ) dante

☆ tags - literally 0 plot, it’s semi - soft?, pretend this is like christmas themed lol. afab!reader but i don’t use fem pronouns, dante is MESSY. cunnilingus, oral.

☆ wc - 961

☆ a/n - i’m so SLOW atm im sorry yall! this was fun 2 write, but tbh i don’t rly like it lol😭 ik i can do better so next time it’ll be better i promise!

☆ synopsis - the holidays are stressful, but now that you’re back home with Dante, he shows you just how much he missed you.

It’d been so stressful these past few weeks, you’d been visiting family, and using up your entire paycheck to buy gifts. At that time you hadn’t even spoken to Dante, who was busy with other things.. You truly did miss him. Of course, seeing family was nice, but all you wanted was for him to hold you again. In just a day, you’d get to go back, and run into his warm embrace.

Later into the evening, you’ve said your goodbyes, and hurried back to Devil May Cry. You nearly slipped on snow and ice while rushing to the door, quickly composing yourself, and slowly pushing it open. It was warm. Really warm. But your stomach is doing flips when your eyes meet that familiar figure. Dante. He’s leaning back on that ancient chair of his, not wearing his usual crimson coat, instead he’s only in that black turtleneck that hugs his chest quite nicely. 

His silky white hair has fallen over his closed eyes, chest slowly rising and falling, legs firmly planted on his desk. You smile to yourself, quietly shutting the door, and approaching him. But Dante’s been awake this whole time, of course. Just waiting for you to get closer. You’re leaning over him, he looks so peaceful that you’d feel bad ‘waking’ him up. His eyes flutter open, white eyelashes look like snowflakes, and he slowly caresses your cheek with a gloved hand.

“Sorry— Did I.. Wake you up?”

“No. I’ve been awake the whole time, actually.”

He says it so casually that it makes you blink a few times, before snorting softly and pushing yourself away from him. But Dante’s already behind you, wrapping his large arms around you, sighing into the back of your head. Your body instinctively relaxes in his touch, exhaling quietly, as Dante inhales your scent. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Really? How much did you miss me?”

Dante pulls back, very slowly, that it makes you shiver. You’ve noticed that over these past few years he’s grown a bit more serious, nothing like his fun-loving, jokester self he was. But you didn’t mind. Truly, he’s still finding himself— his place in the world. Your thoughts are interrupted as Dante flops down onto the couch, swinging his legs up onto it, making himself comfy. 

“Come sit on my face and I’ll show you how much I missed you.”

He’s grinning, meeting your eyes with an intense gaze, the tent in his pants very apparent. You blush, shying away from his stare, but you’re already walking towards him. With all the stress and pressure you went through, you had barely thought about sex or your own pleasure, just on how to make the others around you happy. But when you’re with Dante, you feel happy, he makes you feel so good— not just physically, of course. The both of you complete each other. He could never say that- he doesn’t know how to. He shows you through his actions, and he always means it.

You shimmy out of your jeans, quickly tugging your shirt over your head, giving Dante something to watch. And he is watching. So intently, his nails digging into the couch cushion so hard that it may rip. God— This is what he had been waiting for. Weeks without you felt like an eternity to him.

“Hurry,” Dante mutters, his eyebrow twitching, lips quivering with need. You understand, quietly humming, as you step out of your underwear. You hear the way his breath shakes.

Now you’re moving on top of him, feeling suddenly shy, hovering over his face. He tuts, gripping your thighs, squeezing the fat of them, and pulling you down onto his face. He wants you to suffocate him. Dying with his face between your legs, well, that wouldn’t be so bad.

You try to adjust yourself but his bruising grip makes that difficult, and a soft yelp escapes you when that familiar muscle rubs against your folds. He’s so eager, lapping away at your heat, drinking your juices. Dante moans against you, the vibrations making you shudder, and you grip his snow white hair, pulling hard. He grunts at the feeling, his thighs squeezing together, attempting to soothe his erection. 

He’s always been so messy, and that’s fine— you want him to make a mess of you. Even when drool and your arousal coat his chin, Dante doesn’t care. His tongue plunges inside of you, as far in as it can go, as he continues to suck and lick.

“Dante—! Fuck! I’m-“

He tries to say something in response but his words come out muffled, and your thighs are squeezing around his head, meanwhile his head is spinning. It’s all you, you, you. Even when he’s the one eating you out, he’s so close to cumming as well, your taste overwhelming him. Jerking off while thinking of you isn’t enough. It never is. Toys aren’t enough. Nothing is. 

You’re crying out his name, and he won’t let up, not until you’re satisfied. That feeling of euphoria washes over you and you’re practically sobbing now, cumming all over his face. Dante laps up all of your cum, cleaning you with his tongue, and you whimper weakly in response to his actions.

Finally, once you’ve tried to push him away enough times, he lets you go. Your legs feel like jelly, but you’re able to get off of him, and he gasps quietly. 

“That good enough for you?”

Even though your legs are trembling so bad you feel like a new born calf, you still find the strength to rub his clothed erection, which makes Dante groan and mutter a string of curses under his breath.

“Definitely.. Now can I show you how much I missed you?”

[wellhalesbells]

#wipwednesday

A continuation of the last wip wednesday thing I posted - still chipping away at it :))) (We're only at 12k now, lol). Trying to get better at doing this!

He’s not sure how long they’ve been sitting in companionable silence.  Derek’s been thinking about the pack, about what drills they should run through next week, about what he should make for dinner that night, about where the light hits in the loft, where a few plants might thrive as he watches it inch its way down the siding of the kitchen island, across the hardwood floor, over Stiles’ shoulder and the fine hairs on his body prickling as the sun overtakes him, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat making him look an almost dusky gold, his expression becoming a full squint as the light ricochets off the metal and chrome in Derek’s home. Derek watches the cylinder glass of his coffee table warp the sun’s rays, dancing them over the area rug underneath, losing himself to it so intensely that for an entire moment he’s underwater.  At least until Stiles turns to him, elbow on the cushion next to Derek’s thigh, and expression… different than one Derek has ever seen on his face. It’s serious and uncomfortable.  Stiles is never uncomfortable, even when he should be.  The sun’s passed them both by. “What is it.”  Derek hasn’t felt this tense in his presence in nearly a year, and he can’t help that his body immediately starts bracing for this next hell Stiles is about to unleash.  He wants to be better than this, he was better than this, damn it.  He’d let go of his inner Chicken Little, or so he thought, because at least for a little while he had believed the sky wasn’t falling. It’s sad all it takes to put him back there is an odd look on a face he otherwise knows well. Stiles winces and Derek’s heart rate beats in triple time.  “I have to tell you something.”  He’s not looking at Derek and his voice sounds hoarse.  “Or… maybe I don’t?  I don’t know.”  He winces again.  “I just—I feel like I’m hiding something from you, and I don’t want to do that.  I don’t want—” he shakes his head.  “I want to be honest with you, but… I also don’t think telling you will do good things to you.  I think it’ll hurt you, more than anything, and I really don’t want to do that.” Derek narrows his eyes at him.  “I can handle it.”  He’s silently willing Stiles to just spit it out already because he can’t know how bad it is until it’s out there and then the damage control can begin. Stiles half-laughs, stares down into his lap as he fiddles with a highlighter between his fingers.  “I know that.  Believe me.  Derek, your whole life is handling things but I don’t want this to be that.” “Stiles,” Derek says carefully, and he doesn’t want to know, not really, but he will handle it, “maybe you should just tell me and then we can deal with it.” Stiles takes a deep breath and Derek does it with him because there’s space enough for both of them; there still is.  “Okay, yeah.  Yeah, you’re probably right.  Fuck, I hope this is—Okay, just gonna.”  He looks up at Derek and Derek does his best to keep his face blank even though he wants to kick Stiles out, run away himself, reach out and stop Stiles’ lips from parting.  “I’m in love with you.” Derek doesn’t mean to flinch, but he does.

tagging anyone who wants to show their progress!!

[sushisocks]

Do you have any Sean x Lenny headcanons? I’m so desperate for more of their content, lol.

DO I HAVE SEAN X LENNY HEADCANONS?!??! Dear anon I could talk about macsummers FOREVEEERRRR!!!! We are truly STARVED for content about them but yes yes let me share some THOUGHTS I have lolol (sorry for the late reply, this week has been kicking my ass aklsdjf)

Okay see I think MacSummers have such good potential to be real 'one fell first, the other fell harder', in that sense of the second person falling suddenly having to catch up on all the feelings, yknow? And it works EITHER way, which I LOVE abt them, so let's talk about what their crushes would look like njbhnjbhmk

Lenny's first to fall:

Lenny ABSOLUTELY has a crush foreveeerrr, pining HARD because he can't bring himself to make a move. Half of that is also reckoning with the fact that he HAS a crush, and on Sean of all people.

Sean is an oblivious idiot; a bi king so busy with the thrill of the chase he doesn't realize what's right in front of him at first, and also, in his mind the possibility of Lenny being interested in him is so small it barely connects.

It's a mess; people DEFINITELY start noticing - it's Lenny's first time having feelings as intense as these about someone and he is NOT as subtle as he'd like to believe he is.

Truly painful for anyone to witness; no, Lenny, that joke was not that funny, stop staring wistfully across the camp like that, everyone knows you're just sitting at the campfire because Sean is there, your book is upside down.

The girls swing back and forth between gently teasing him about it or trying to cheer him up after witnessing some horrendous attempt at flirting from Sean with one of them - they're all rolling their eyes at him for it.

Jenny is def the one who notices first, and the one Lenny goes to for advice. She does NOT give him good advice. Thankfully Lenny is smart enough to realize as much when she tells him to take Sean fishing during a moonlit night, like that's 1) romantic in any sense of the word or 2) something normal for them to do.

Hosea also catches on but it just makes him more grumpy when dealing with Sean, very fatherly 'youre not good enough for my child' vibes off him. Sean still has 0 clue, but now sometimes he catches Hosea giving him the deathstare, and there's a high chance that every time Hosea sees Sean even look in Lenny's direction, he's considering pulling his gun on him.

Tilly is the most sympathetic to Lenny out of the whole lot, when she's not laughing at him. Tbf they're all laughing at him.

The 'Let me teach you how to read!' thing is very much an excuse just to hang out with Sean more. Mind you Lenny is very serious in his effort to teach Sean, he definitely thinks Sean deserves someone making the effort for him, but he's very internally giddy about 'hihi spending time with crush!!' And he probably does have to go debrief with Jenny and Tilly about it.

He only FINALLY gets the nerve to make a move at the end of a long night of drinking. Liquid courage has Lenny grabbing a loud and laughing Sean by the wrist after he says or does something that makes Lenny want to vomit his heart out, dragging Sean out of camp past the treeline, and kissing him square on the mouth, if only for his sanity. Sean, once the shock passes, goes, verbatim "oh. OH! well, ya couldve told me earlier!" before proceeding to snog Lenny senseless <3

Sean's first to fall:

It takes a minute for Sean to actually realize he has a crush, but then Lenny looks at him in a certain way, smiling and gazing at him with those shrewd eyes of his, shining in the light of the campfire, and Sean feels like he's been struck by fucking lightning.

Who has eyes like that anyway?? Sean will not be able to stop thinking about them, ever, now.

He's upping the ante on silly goofy behavior by 11, just to make Lenny smile. Even better if he laughs!!

He agrees to be tutored in reading just to spend time with Lenny and promptly spends all that time vacillating between doing his utmost to distract Lenny away from the lesson with jokes or trying very hard to listen to him just to get lost in his eyes. Lenny doesn't really mind but they get nothing done.

Sean has a fucking army on his ass in seconds; Arthur, John, Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen all seem to know out of NOWHERE and Sean has to sit through a fucking impromptu roast while wondering if all his closest friends are fucking mind-readers.

It's funny to them all at first but there IS some sympathy for poor Sean. Doesn't stop them from teasing him mercilessly.

Those that know him, know he's fucked when he switches the 'I love ya!' to 'Ya love me!' with Lenny. It's harder to say to the people he has actual persistent non-platonic feelings for, and almost self-soothing to instead say the reverse as a substitute.

Thing is; if Lenny having a crush is unsubtle, Sean is a fucking bull in a china-shop by comparison. Lenny sure as hell has his suspicions from very early on.

IT DOESN'T HELP THAT WHEN SEAN GETS DRUNK HE'S FLIRTING WITH LENNY IN THE EXACT SAME WAY HE DOES WITH THE GIRLS.

Lenny is very good-humored about the whole thing but it comparatively to when Lenny's the one with the crush, it sure as hell doesn't take very long from Sean realizing his crush to Lenny also realizing Sean's crush.

It helps Lenny getting over his own nerves, if nothing else.

Everyone in camp knows by the time Lenny decides to end Sean's suffering. They walk down to the river near camp, find a spot which is a bit more secluded, and Lenny very gently cups Sean's face, tells him to stop him if he doesn't want this, and kisses him. Sean is grinning like the cat who got the cream afterwards, and Lenny v fondly calls him a fool.

There's like several relieved sighs when they return to camp holding hands. Like Sean isn't gonna be way more of a menace WITH a boyfriend than he is without.

Here's some general headcanons too, bcz I LOVE thinking and talking abt this ship lmfaoo

They're both very talkative - very much the types to stay up all night talking, discussing their thoughts and feelings, camp gossip, their childhoods, the most fucked up death they saw besides their dads', their favorite colors, etc etc. They've had SEVERAL items thrown at them for waking up their fellow gangmembers in the dead of night.

Lenny reads as very acts of service-y to me. Throwing a blanket over Sean when he's knocked out, bringing him food or snacks when he's on guard shift, teaching him how to read, etc etc.

Meanwhile Sean is very touchy; he likes the reassurance of Lenny's physical presence, and it can be as small as just feeling the press of their thighs while sitting next to each other, but they're not exactly strangers to other things like hugging or holding hands.

In that vein it's not uncommon to find Lenny like, doing his own thing, reading or writing, with Sean amusing himself by tracing the lines in Lenny's free hand, or dozing against his back or something.

They have that honeymoon period where you can't find one without the other and they're hard to separate for anything. Sean complains if they're set to different tasks during a job. They manage to be regular about it eventually, but there's an acclimation period for both them and everyone surrounding them -- baby's first proper relationship, y'know?

They're still prone to joining each other on their guard shifts though, even if just for a little while.

You know that comic that's like "I'm gonna kiss you stupid" "But I'm already so dumb!" "Youre gonna be such an idiot when I'm through with you" That Is Very Them imo lolol

Aaaannddd this is already so long I think I'll stop now before we're here all night kmjnhbjnbh