#big top burger sound

[deadmothsketches]

Dont listen to him Choro, he's a theater kid. He doesnt know shit besides puppets and...view pointing.

[walnutsupreme]

made this when i remembered i preordered it

[deadsetobsessions]

Of all the places he could have been summoned to, Danny Phantom had never considered a private school’s bathroom to be one of them.

With glowing green skin, a shock of flickering flames for hair, and a suit made out of the spaces between collapsing stars, Danny stared down at the stupefied faces of Gotham Academy’s finest students. One of them had their face in their hands, having caught sight of him and undergoing all the stages of grief in but a moment.

They sat around a circle that he was appropriately impressed with considering the limited space they had to work with. Danny could see the empty stalls, some of which were adorned with drawings and writings that were left by the, no-doubt, extremely busy caretaker.

“Seriously, a bathroom?” Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Holy shit, that actually worked?” One of the kids blurted out, then slammed their hands on top of their mouth.

“Did you expect it not to?” Danny squinted at them, frowning. It’s Friday, so it’s not like he had much to do, but Danny would prefer it if his time wasn’t wasted.

“No- no, your… uh, highness?”

“All of that schooling and you’re still uneducated,” one of the other ones hissed at the red headed kid who spoke. It’s “Your Majesty.” He’s a king, idiot!”

That was a pretty solid burn but, “It’s actually just Phantom. Did you guys want something? I’m busy.”

He’s not busy, but who cares?

“Uh…” the kids exchanged glances. The one in the back sighed and spoke up. He adjusted his glasses.

“We’re sorry for bothering you, Phantom. You wouldn’t happen to have a solution for dimensional separation, would you?”

“Huh.” Danny tilted his head, face souring. “I hate dimensional issues. They’re the worst. Who’s causing them?”

“His name’s Klarion!” The one who slapped a hand across his mouth earlier piped up.

“Oh! The lords of chaos or whatever. Yeah, I can help, for a price.”

Danny is against unpaid labor. Extremely against it, considering his side gig is being a half-dead vigilante. Then again, are you really a vigilante if you’re not half dead on a regular basis?

“What do you want?” Despite the reluctance from earlier, it’s clear the one with the glasses made the big decisions in this weird friend group.

“… A hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? No stipulations?” When Danny nodded, the kid had a calculating expression. “Deal.” The teen said immediately. He pulled out cash and wow, Danny’s definitely in a place with a different tax bracket.

He snatched it. Nasty burger money!

“Deal’s a deal. Also, don’t ever summon me again, but if you do, don’t ever do it in a bathroom again. You kids are so weird.” Danny floated out of the circle, grinning sharply. He formed a small bird- he doesn’t know why, but it felt right- of ice and handed it to the kid with glasses. “There. Proof of the deal.”

With that, Danny disappeared. Private school kids were so fucking weird, but… Dash and his goons were probably worse. What’s a little ritualistic summoning in the face of teenagers?

——

“I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you summon the king of the dead?” Robin narrowed his eyes at his teammates, traitors who had the good graces to look sheepish. “How could you?! I wanted to try, too!”

Kid Flash patted him on the shoulder, a granola bar appearing in his mouth now that the possible world ending terror disappeared. “Sorry, Rob. Maybe next time! Magic still isn’t real though.”

“I’m not doing this shit in a bathroom again,” Artemis rolled back to her feet. “He sounded like he was going to rip our bones out if we ever summoned him in a bathroom again.”

“Ugh…”

[whytheylosttheirminds]

LUNCH

(rafe cameron blurb)

pairing: waitress!reader x rafe cameron

content: smut, 18+ minors do not interact!

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

You usually liked your job. Being on your feet all day sucked, and some of the members here were assholes, but they were rich assholes and you never left without your purse overflowing with tips.

It only took a few weeks of waitressing at the Island Club’s restaurant to learn what kinds of things had you clocking out with pockets full of twenties and fifties. You weren’t even from North Carolina originally, but you adopted a sweet, southern drawl to match your fake smile. When you were back-of-house waiting on food for your tables, you’d drop the act, fucking around with the cooks and swearing like a sailor, immediately codeswitching to an angelic southern belle when you were back on the floor.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” the old men would say when you dropped off their burgers. 

“You’re welcome, hun,” you’d say to their face, followed by “get fucked, creep,” once your back was turned.

Somehow, the younger guys were even worse. At least the older men had some subtlety, but the twenty-something, trustfunded Kook boys that would come in had absolutely no tact, and they tipped like shit.

Today, none of your work friends were scheduled with you, your new manager had laid into you about your dress being too short for a professional environment, and to top it off, you were working a double. You were actually considering quitting when a herd of local boys came barrelling into the restaurant, fresh off of making fools of themselves on the golf course - all swagger and no skill. You groaned when they sat themselves in your section.

You had absolutely no patience left in you. Instead of your usual chipper greeting and the list of today’s specials, you arrived at their table snapping, “you’re supposed to wait to be seated.”

The guy closest to you looked up under the shadow of his Titlest hat, a smug glint in his eyes as he said, “y'know, you’d be prettier if you smiled. You’d make a lot more money too.” His buddies erupted in laughter, as if he’d just brought the house down with his wit.

You were so fucking done, not even caring if you lost your job.

“Eat me,” you bit back at him. A casual flick of your middle finger in his face as you spun and sauntered away. He watched your hips swing as you left.

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Your dress was bunched up around your waist and apron thrown on the club’s bathroom floor. He kneeled behind you as your nails dug into the marble countertop. Fingertips digging into your ass cheeks, he shook his head back and forth rapidly, dragging his tongue all over your pussy. His pornographic slurps made you whimper helplessly, so incredibly frustrated and turned on. He turned his hat around backwards so he could get deeper.

His big hand came down hard on the side of your thigh with a loud thwack. There would be a red handprint at the hem of your dress when you returned from your 15-minute break. If your boss wasn’t pissed at you before, you were in for it now. But you were too fucked out to care, forgetting all about your bad shift. You let him devour you, your whole body shuddering with every precise flick of his tongue against your clit.

He nibbled at the skin of your inner thighs as he hooked his fingers into you skillfully, drunk on the sound of all the pretty profanities that flowed from your lips.

You came so hard he had to hold you up against the bathroom sink, your knees shaking as you struggled to pull your panties back up. He stood behind you, wiping his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand. He caught your eyes in the mirror, smiling arrogantly at your bright red cheeks and smudged makeup.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.” 

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Your legs wobbled as you walked back to the table with only his drink on your tray. His friends were already getting up to leave, complaining about how long their food was taking. You'd forgotten all about their orders. He took the cold glass from you with a wink, throwing it back before following his friends to the door.

“You gonna pay for that?” You scoffed.

“Put it on Cameron!” He called back.

You rolled your eyes.

Maybe you’d keep this job a little longer.

[murdrdocs]

pussy drunk peter b. u cannot tell me it’s just burgers he devours like that

no like he's always pussy drunk like he's corny to the point where he once introduces himself as "peter pussy drunk benjamin parker" and thinks it's at least top 20 of the things he's said.

but like he's not wrong. there's been more times than you count where peter just gets lost when he fucks you. he still has his north star: pleasuring you to the absolute best of his ability. but he still manages to get the thickest cloud of haze over his foremost thoughts, a haze that's surely dense with mentions of your cunt and only your cunt.

he looks pretty when he's like that. sounds pretty, too. hips pushing into yours rapidly, pubic hair soaked with your juices, big and callous hands gripping as much as your soft and supple flesh that he can. his cheeks flushed, forehead dripping sweat that his brows and eyelashes catch. his eyes hooded, bright, constantly flickering from your face to your tits to your tummy and they always end up on your pussy.

he's a whimper-er when he's lost like this. he groans and moans and whines mostly, but those whimpers are so fucking delicious that you can't help but remember them the most. and you know he's not aware of the sounds he makes, proven when you teased him about them over take out one night and he was genuinely lost, a dark blush taking up the tips of his cheeks and ears immediately.

it's not his fault, as he reminds you constantly. he's always citing the perfectness of your cunt for his state, saying you were "made for him", babbling out praises revolving around how tight and wet and ready you always are for him.

and somehow, someway, it's almost twice as bad when he's going down on you. even though that's an action that results in solely your physical pleasure (but you do catch him palming his cock or rutting against the bed while he gives you head).

[monster-disaster]

Big fan of your work.Can I please 🥺🙏 request you do a fix about introducing your male naga boyfriend to your family.His big and intimidating but the family are shocked S/O is dating a monster.

naga!boyfriend x human!Reader Good to know: no warnings

The bright summer sun blazes on the top of the cloudless sky as you and your boyfriend approach your parents' house. The cheerful sounds of laughter, sizzling barbecue, and clinking glasses drift over from behind the familiar building towering behind the white fence you helped to paint down several years ago.

You take a deep breath, feeling the flutter of anxiety in your stomach as you get closer and closer to the open entrance. The scent of grilled meats and vegetables fills the air, mingling with the floral notes from the garden. The family barbecue is always a big event, but this year, instead of excitement, you feel nervous and overwhelmed. There is too big of a chance for everything to go wrong.

"Remember," your boyfriend is the one who breaks the silence, "no matter what they think of me, you and I are a sure thing. We've got this."

You look up at him, meeting his steady gaze and gentle smile. His confidence is contagious, and you feel a bit of the tension in your chest ease. He is right. Maybe your family will have their opinion about the fact that you fell in love with a naga, but it doesn't have to do anything with your relationship.

"I know," you tell him with a deep breath. "It’s just… I don’t want them to make you feel uncomfortable."

The male chuckles softly, slipping his long fingers through yours to squeeze your hand comfortingly. "I appreciate that, but you’ve seen me handle tougher situations. Your family will come around. And if not, well, it’s their loss."

He is right, you remind yourself, yet, for a moment, you hesitate at the front door, taking in the familiar picket fence and the well-tended, colorful flower beds.

“Ready?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. The question is unnecessary and more about you than the male waiting beside you patiently.

“Absolutely,” he replies with a confident smile. His eyes sparkle with an easygoing warmth, and his fingers around yours tighten, trying to ease the stress stretching across your chest and belly.

With a deep inhale, you push the front door open, leading him inside. The hallway is lined with family photos, and the faint sound of music mixed with the hum of conversations reaches your ears from the garden in the back. You guide him through the living room, giving him enough time to look around the wooden furniture, dark green couch, and tall bookshelf next to the TV.

"I see where your style comes from," he says, amused. The house is dominated by warm colors and earthy tones. It's comfortable and inviting, and you can't help but relax in the familiar environment.

Finally, you reach the glass door leading to the backyard. The garden is bustling and loud with your family: children run around, laughter rings out from the adults, and the grill crackles with sizzling food. The familiar mix of your father's spices is heavy and mouthwatering in the warm summer air.

Your dad is at the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs with your uncles surrounding him while your mom is busy with others from your family. Nearby, your grandparents sat in lawn chairs, enjoying the warmth of the day with cool drinks in their hands and keeping one eye on the kids playing around them.

As you and your boyfriend step onto the patio, the lively chatter and laughter of the garden party fall abruptly into silence. The vibrant hum of conversations quiets down, leaving an almost tangible pause in the air. Every head turns toward you and your boyfriend, with expressions shifting from curiosity to surprise. You try to maintain a confident smile, but it feels more like a grimace. The silence stretches, growing heavier with each passing second you stand under their gaze. You can feel the weight of a hundred unspoken questions and unvoiced opinions pressing down on you.

Your boyfriend's squeeze on your hand shakes you up from your stalling.

Clearing your throat, you break the silence finally. “Hey everyone, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend." Your voice wavers slightly as you introduce him.

The male next to you offers a polite smile, his tail shifting slightly behind him. He is nervous too, even though he tries to be calm for you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

The garden remains eerily quiet, and you can feel the muscles of your face twitch as you try to keep smiling.

No one speaks. The awkwardness grows, making the seconds feel like minutes. Long, long minutes.

The garden’s tense silence hangs in the air as you and your boyfriend still stand at the edge of the patio. The sizzling of the barbecue and the distant noises of the neighborhood seem far off in the background. Someone just arrives a few houses away, their car rumbles through the street. Someone else is busy mowing the grass. You bet all of them have a better time than you.

Just as you begin to worry that the awkwardness might never lift, a sudden burst of squeals pierces through the quiet.

With a small jump at the sudden sound, you look down to see your youngest cousin with tousled hair and chubby cheeks waddling closer and closer to your pair. Her face is flushed from playing and laughing around. Her eyes are wide and shine with wonder as she stares intently at the naga beside you.

The sunlight catches your boyfriend's scales again when he shifts, curling his long tail around himself, casting a dazzling array of colors that shimmered like a living prism. The toddler’s eyes widen even further, and she lets out an enthusiastic squeal. “Oh, pweddy!” She exclaims. Her tiny hands reach out as if to touch the light dancing on the otherwise bluish scales.

Your boyfriend, noticing her delight, crouches down to her level with a gentle smile. His scales shift and sparkle in the sunlight, reflecting a spectrum of vibrant hues. “Hello there,” he says softly, his voice warm and friendly. You can see his expression and posture relax now that he can busy himself with a curious little girl instead of your family's shocked silence. “Do you like the colors?”

Your cousin nods vigorously, her face breaking into a wide grin. She claps her hands and giggles, clearly entranced by the play of light on the long tail. “Magic!” She shouts with glee. Her ponytail bounces on the top of her head and the decor on the tie glitters as she moves.

The sound of her laughter is like a breath of fresh air, breaking the lingering tension. Your family watches with a mix of amusement and relief as the toddler continues to marvel at the spectacle with excited 'ohs' and "ahs' every few seconds. Her chubby fingers slide up and down on your boyfriend's scales while he explains a few things about nagas that may interest the small girl.

"Pretty, huh?" You ask her with a relieved smile on your face.

Your cousin nods, still grinning. "Pink," she points out a few colors that catch her eyes as the rays of the sun dance on the smooth scales.

"Yes," your love nods. "And what is this?" He points at another color.

"Gween."

"That's right!"

"Oh," your mom gasps, adjusting her shirt as if she is just waking up. "Don't just stand there! Come! The food is almost ready!"

And with that, something melts around your family. The silent awkwardness eases until it entirely disappears, and your family starts talking and moving again. A few of them continue their previous conversation while the other come closer to introduce themselves.

"Wanna play?" Your cousin asks, not caring about the adults gathering around her and her new friend. Her small hand is already gripping your boyfriend's finger to pull him with herself.

"I think he will be busy for a while," you tell your mom, smiling at the sight of your male and the little girl as they make their way to the blanket spread out on the grass with toys all over it.

"That's fine," your aunt replies with a wave of her hand. "She ate not long ago. I don't give ten minutes, and she will fall asleep."

She is right. The next time you see your boyfriend, he is next to your father, talking about something with your cousin soundly asleep in his arms.

[withahappyrefrain]

For the ship ask game!

48. …out of habit + a bob of your choice!

This prompt screams secret relationship, and what better Bob to do that with than Cobalt Eyes & Sweet Smiles Bob?

Bob knew he shouldn't be jealous. You weren't paying Jake any attention as he bragged about the latest air maneuver he mastered. Your eyes were focused on putting together a burger.

Soon enough, one of your fathers' old Top Gun classmates would whisk you away, no doubt to marvel at how much you had grown up, reminiscing on how you used to toddle around at this yearly cookout.

The worst part was Bob couldn't even be mad at Jake. Because he told Jake that all that happened after you two met was that he walked you to your car.

Which was partly true. Bob did walk you to your car. And then exchanged numbers after making out in said car. Which led to going on a date, which led to Bob secretly dating you.

Turns out, dating the daughter of your bosses is complicated.

Once the current mission was over, it would be easier to come forward. And decidedly less weird to think about.

Though Bob was still worried that once the secret was out in the open, he'd wake up the next day to find he's been deployed to Australia.

So all Bob could do was sip on his diet Coke as he tried not watch Jake fail at hitting on his girlfriend.

"I'm going to go...." Your eyes lingered on Bob. God, he looked so good in that blue shirt, it was unfair. But wouldn't that be too obvious?

"Somewhere that isn't here," you finished, walking away before Jake could even speak. The temptation to tell the blonde pilot you were dating Bob grew stronger everyday.

But Jake also had a big mouth and seemed like the kind of dick to mention something to one of your dads, if not both.

Technically, you weren't breaking their rule. They said no pilots and Bob wasn't a pilot. He was a WSO.

But it certainly made things awkward as Bob was working with Dad. And Pa was his boss.

Well, wanting to get away from Jake Seresin wouldn't raise anyone's suspicions.

Bob tried to hide his excitement when you stood next to him. He tried to act casual, but nothing could hide that smile of his.

Not that you mind. In fact, his sweet expression sent warmth throughout your body.

"Got tired of hearing how much better he is than everyone else?" Bob joked, causing you to nearly choke on your burger.

"The best don't brag, they let their work speak for themselves," you explained, a sly smile on your face. It was so hard not to make eye contact with him. Truly unfair how he had eyes bluer than the ocean, deeper than the sky-

"Is it too much if I asked you to accompany me to the Hot Dog station? Figured it would be nice to have someone who understands all the toppings." With that lopsided smile, how could you say no?

"It is an intimidating amount of choices," you chuckled as you led him over to the station.

"Alright, so I know it sounds weird, but the Olivier-Russian potato salad- that Pa makes is actually pretty good. The chili Slider makes is good, but unless you have a stomach of steel only take a little. Oh, and Hollywood says the candied jalapeños are mostly sweet but that's a lie. It's mostly spicy."

Bob couldn't help but be memorized as you rattled off facts about the various condiments. Whether it was about work, a personal belief, or yes, even hot dog toppings, you always spoke with such passion.

He loved it. He loved you, but that conversation is still a few steps away.

For now, Bob was happy to settle for counting down the days until he could hold your hand in a gathering like today's. Even if it terrified him.

Yes, technically, he wasn't a pilot. But considering who your dads were, a technicality didn't bring Bob much hope.

According to Bradley, the idea of you dating someone in the military, much less a naval pilot, had been vocally met with disdain.

But today Bob wouldn't focus on that. Instead, he focused on your bright smile and how cute you looked in that sundress.

"What's your go-to?" He asked, ready to take the valuable information to heart.

"Chili with some of the candied jalapenos and a dash of ketchup."

"No mustard?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You had to stifle a laugh, "No mustard."

"Alright, I trust ya." His words, laced with a slight twang sent warmth throughout your body.

Without saying a word, you took the ladle from the chili bowl, serving it onto his hot dog. You gave him a sweet smile as an explanation, one that Bob took happily.

"Thanks darlin'," He leaned in to peck your lips, neither of you thinking about it.

It wasn't until he broke away to grab the ketchup that you both froze, realization washing over you.

Fuck.

"I'm gonna, um, go." You said quickly, grabbing your plate.

"Uh yeah, good idea," Bob quickly put down the ketchup, turning around to walk away from you. His face was bright red as he practically ran back to Mickey and Natasha who were currently chatting up with some of Pete and Tom's old classmates.

You looked around, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. No one standing in shock.

Alright, good. That was a good sign.

"Hey, did you see that?" You asked Bradley, who had been roped into grill duty.

"See what?" Your pseudo-brother shrugged, his eyes remaining on the grill, unaware that you were on the verge of having a panic attack.

"Bob and I kissed. It was an accident, like neither of us thought about it! It just felt natural and we forgot where we were!" You hissed.

Bradley was the only one who knew. The first time Bob spent the night at your place, the universe decided that Bradley should be the one to pick you up for family brunch. In hindsight, better he than one of your dads. Thankfully, you had enough dirt on Bradley to buy his silence.

"Oh," Bradley shrugged, as if it was nothing. Truthfully, he didn't know why you two insisted on keeping it a secret. It wasn't like you were dating Hangman (thank fucking God for that).

"I didn't notice anything," He said, which accurately reassured you.

"Although...." His words made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Although?" You gritted through your teeth.

"I mean, that would explain why Slider was running into the house. I thought he just had to piss."

God. Dammit.

"You good Bob?" Mickey asked upon seeing his fellow WSO, beet-faced and nervous.

"Huh? Oh! Me? Yeah, I'm great. Swell actually!" Bob said, unconvincingly.

Natasha knew Bob was dating you. It was obvious when you showed up to one of the beach football games. How anyone else failed to notice was beyond Nat.

But she knew not to say anything. Instead, she gave Bob a raised eyebrow. Whatever it was (concerning you), she knew it was better to ask in private.

"Lieutenant Floyd? May I speak with you in private?"

Bob's blood ran cold as he turned to face Captain Mitchell, who had his arms crossed.

"Um, I..." He could pretend to pass out. There was no current or former medic here. So he would just need to play dead as if his life depended on it, because it did. Claim it was from the heat. Yeah. Blame the sun, he was pale enough to do so.

But his knees were locked. Bob couldn't run, couldn't pretend to pass out. Fuck, it was too early to fake food poisoning.

So instead, all he could muster up was a weak nod as his legs carried him inside the Mitchell-Kazansky house.

He was fucked. Utterly fucked. He should just leave now so he can go pack up for Australia. Would he even get that far? He had been sneaking around with their daughter, death was probably the only option.

Even if your dads didn't kill him, your honorary uncles will. Fuck, was his will updated? Would you even get anything? Well, Bob did tell Bradley to give you the ring in his drawer should anything happen to him. It was his grandma's, given to him so he had a ring to propose and-

Why was the Admiral whose callsign was literally "Iceman" hugging him?

"Thank God it's you. We thought she was seeing Seresin."

Oh.

That explains a lot.

"Um, no offense sir, but you raised your daughter to have better standards than Seresin," Bob barely got out, now receiving a hug from the much shorter Captain.

"We knew she was seeing someone. We're all glad it's you."

When you ran into your childhood home, you were expecting many things. Mainly Bob's head on the floor.

Receiving hugs from your dads was not on the list, but man was it a welcoming sight.

Bradley shrugged, "I don't know why you were so worried about them knowing."

You rolled your eyes, "The same reason why you haven't told them you have a fiancé."

Wait shit, that was not supposed to be said out loud.

"You have a what?"

[livwritesstuff]

inspired by a reply @gregre369 left on yesterday’s post. this is why i love this site so much bc i had this idea floating aimlessly around my brain for such a long time and then someone says something that just connects all the dots for me so - much thanks <3

tw: brief reference to domestic violence

One of parenthood’s biggest surprises (in Eddie’s opinion, anyway) was how easy talking to his and Steve’s daughters about why his parents aren’t in his life was.

He’d figured it’d be hard to figure out exactly how to explain that his mother's death was due to domestic violence caused by his father, who had died in prison twenty years later – but…that about covers it, honestly. Sure, the exact rendition of the story the girls hear varies as they get older, but…it’s pretty straightforward, actually.

Explaining Steve’s situation turned out to be way more complicated for…well, for a lot of reasons, and the fact that his parents are still alive and breathing and choosing to not be around didn't help things at all.

It also didn't help that the girls totally saw Jim and Joyce as Steve’s parents, but it did lead to a conversation that Eddie doesn't think he'll ever forget:

It happened when he was passing through the kitchen to see that Steve was cooking with Moe.

"What're we up to in here?" he asked.

At four years old (she’s actually almost five), Moe has yet to outgrow a phase of picky eating that had started out right around her second birthday. Steve is trying out a new method where he involves Moe in the cooking process in the hopes that she then actually wants to eat the product of her hard work when it’s done. He's seeing varying levels of success.

“We're making burgers,” Moe said, “Poppy’s recipe.”

Eddie looked at Steve skeptically, “Poppy Jim or Poppy Joyce?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m telling Joyce you said that.”

And then he added, “Jim.”

Satisfied, Eddie continued on his way.

“How come you call your dad Jim?” Moe asked.

And that had Eddie pausing in the hallway just out of their line of sight.

“Well, Poppy’s not my dad, sweet pea,” Steve replied.

“Did you not have a dad?”

“I did have a dad – I do. He lives in Indiana with my mom. We don't really talk to each other anymore though."

"Why?"

"When I was younger, I decided that they didn’t take care of me like I needed them too, and Jim and Joyce stepped in to be like my parents instead."

It's not completely accurate, Eddie knows (and he doesn't love the way Steve is shifting culpability away from his parents because that shit was fully on them, but whatever; it's his story and he can tell it however he want), but just like how they don't have a completely accurate picture of what happened to Eddie's mom either, they know what they need to know for now and they'll hear more down the line.

“But what did your mom and dad do?” Moe asked.

"Well, you know how Daddy and I read to you and play with you and put you to bed and make food for you – it was a little different because I was older and I needed different stuff than that, but…”

Eddie watched Steve look back at their oldest daughter, watched him see the look of confusion in her big brown eyes.

“They didn’t do that?” Moe asked, sounding perplexed.

Steve shook his head, and Moe continued to look at him as if he might suddenly tell her he was joking.

“That’s crazy,” Moe finally said, and Steve let out a laugh.

“It is kinda crazy, isn’t it?” he agreed, “That’s why I love being your dad so much, because it’s actually so easy to want to take care of you. Even though you sometimes like to make it hard on purpose, right?”

“Yeah,” she grinned proudly, “Like when I make you snuggle me more at bedtime and you fall asleep by accident and then the kitchen is messy in the morning."

"Uh-huh," Steve said, poking her in the side so she giggled, "Exactly like that."

"You're a good dad," Moe told him.

"You think?" Steve asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"The best dad."

“The best?” he repeated, “Can’t let Daddy hear that.”

“He can hear it.”

[mechaknight-98]

Dominance (NSFW) Yel

Authors note: A short little gift of Yel I guess. No funny joke or behind the scenes stuff

I was working on an assignment for work when Yel entered my office. She had a big, bright smile that always filled me with affection for her. She was always so happy and dressed so cutely, but today she wore a crop top that made her chest pop and a loose-fitting jacket that gave tempting glances at her impeccable body. I tried to focus on my work, but Yel demanded my attention. She twirled her blonde hair in an attempt to get me to focus on her. Eventually, her exasperated sighs and expressions made me take my focus off my work. I turned to her, and Yel grinned triumphantly.

“What’s up, Yel?” I asked as she sat down on my desk to my right. She pouted as she looked at me. Her eyes shimmered as she moved closer, causing my heart to beat a bit faster. She gave me that sweet innocent look before asking,

“There’s this guy I’ve been crushing on, but he’s too sweet to make a move.”

While I was slightly disappointed by this information, I was abundantly happy for Yel. She is a catch and deserves a great guy. “Okay, I can work with that. First question: do you know if he’s interested?” I asked. Yel nodded slowly.

“I’ve caught him drooling and fantasizing about me when we hang out a couple of times. Plus, there was this one time he moaned my name when he was taking a nap,” she said. I smiled—he sounded normal so far.

“So, what’s stopping him from asking you out?”

“There’s an age gap. He’s older by a bit, but we hit it off super well, so I’m not sure how to broach the subject. He’s so tied to this concept that because I’m younger, he’s bad for liking me.” I nodded; he sounded like a good guy, and I could easily understand his plight.

“Oh, and he’s also trying to be a good guy, but I know he’s dirty on the inside like me,” Yel added, and I laughed.

“Oh, are you some kind of goddess of love or something?” I teased. Yel smiled and nodded sarcastically.

“Have you seen me? I’m a total smoke show,” she said, smiling while fanning herself with her jacket and showing off her midriff. I would have looked away, but my body wouldn’t let me.

“Okay, fair—you are stunning,” I said, and Yel’s smile grew a bit brighter. She shifted in her seat, subtly leaning closer, her knee brushing against mine under the desk. It made me kind of wish the guy she was fawning over was me, but I’m too old for her.

As I relaxed into my chair and gave her situation some thought and attention, I had another question. “Okay, last question: how does your company feel about dating?” Yel smiled. I noticed she moved closer in her excitement, her eyes growing to the size of saucers.

“I knew you’d ask that question. You’re always so responsible about that kind of stuff. To answer your question, they’re fine with it as long as I’m not letting it get in the way of promotions.”

I nodded, now getting a full view of the picture.

“Oh, okay. Well, then let’s start with Attack Hs: Hunger, Hobbies, Habits. What’s his favorite food? What does he do in his free time, and what is his lifestyle like?”

Yel’s eyes brightened as she talked about this hypothetical man.

“Oh, the first one is easy. He loves ramen, pizza, and burgers,” she replied lightning fast. I nodded to show understanding of her words and that I was listening.

“Okay, and hobbies?” I followed up.

Yel smiled mischievously. “Oh, he’s a total helpless nerd. He loves going out to the countryside to take pictures and Kaiju movies. He finds them relatable since he’s kind of a loner, to be honest. Also, don’t tell him I know this, but once a month he goes to this event called Kaiju Big Battel. He dresses up as a Kaiju and fights other guys and girls in costumes over miniature model cities. It’s dorky, but it’s a lot of fun to watch, and he always gets so into it,” Yel said.

I laughed because I go to Kaiju Big Battel. I began to wonder if I knew the guy she was talking about. I nodded and then asked about the dude’s lifestyle.

Yel pouted. “That’s the one thing I don’t know. We don’t talk outside a few hours during the week in person and text over off-hours. I do worry about him sometimes because I’ll randomly see him beat up over the week, and I don’t know how it happened.”

I nodded and noted that she sees him throughout the week. “Oh, so it’s a workplace romance?”

Yel shook her head as she grimaced, annoyed, before smiling. “No, he works in the same office building, though.”

I nodded and responded, “Then ask him out or seduce him—it’s your call.”

Yel laughed and said, “Okay. Barry, will you go out with me, or do I need to make it more obvious?” I blinked rapidly, processing what Yel said. She closed my laptop and guided me to stand and face her. She bit her lip before repeating herself. I got lost in her, as I processed that this remarkable young woman had romantic feelings for me. It was daunting but exhilarating. I took a chance and kissed her.

As our lips met in that unexpected kiss, time seemed to slow down. Yel’s touch was gentle yet electric, sending a rush of warmth through me. When we finally pulled away, I found myself staring into her eyes, trying to process the moment.

“Wow,” I managed to whisper, my heart still racing.

Yel smiled, a hint of shyness breaking through her confident demeanor. “Wow indeed,” she replied softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Me too,” I confessed, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as I admitted my feelings.

We stood there, caught in a moment of shared understanding and newfound closeness. The air between us crackled.

“I should get back to work,” Yel said, breaking the silence with a small laugh. “But maybe we could continue this conversation over lunch?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, a smile spreading across my face. “Lunch sounds perfect.”

As Yel gathered her things to leave, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with nervousness. As I tried to focus on work a different problem arose.

As I worked I tried to stop my surging lust for Yel from getting out of control. I tried counting to ten and doing breathing exercises but to no avail. The monster between my legs had awakened and demanded appeasement. I groaned as I couldn’t focus anymore. I sat in my office for a few minutes before Yel came back.

Her eyes were dilated and her tan skin flushed. She looked at me with a hunger I knew very well. Our eyes locked and our bodies took over as she closed the door to my office.

“I’m so fucking wet for you. You have no idea.” She said as I got up. Her eyes went to my crotch and she chuckled “Maybe you do have some idea”

She looked at my bulge and bit her lip.

“Is that because of me?” She asked I wordlessly nodded as even now I tried to suppress ripping her top off and fucking those massive tits. As if sensing my struggle Yel says 9 words that give me the green light.

“What are you waiting for Daddy? Come Fuck me!”

I close the distance and bring her face to mine. This kiss is aggressive. I'm staking my claim on her. She mine. Yel submits to my aggression as my tongue dances with hers. She moans in my mouth as I feel her grind into my right knee. Eventually, we need to come up for air and the lust has only gotten stronger.

“Let me fuck your gorgeous tits,” I growl at her. Yel mewls and says

“Yes, daddy. Before lowering herself to my crotch. She smiles brightly as she lifts her top. Her tits bounced mesmerizingly as they adjusted to being free. Unable to control myself. I yanked my pants down and got out my cock.

“Oh, Daddy has such a nice cock for me to worship,” Yel said as lightly palmed my cock before slathering it in her spit. I moaned as she licked and slurped my rod. I look down at her. Her eyes are rolled into the back of her head as her tongue wraps around the shaft before ending with a light poke to the tip. Yel smiles before opening her mouth and taking me deep into her mouth.

The sensation is crazy I’ve never felt anything like this before. There is so much spit in her mouth when her nose reaches my groin that I can see it pooling on her chest. Yel’s sloppiness causes me to get even harder as I grow more in her mouth. I hear her moan causing her throat to vibrate around my cock in an unexpected way that causes me to cum violently down her throat. My mind goes blank as the lustfulness takes hold. I see Yel’s eyes are clouded as well. A ditzy smile painted across her face.

We let our instincts guide us as I plunge back into her mouth. Yel mewls before wrapping and sliding her tongue around my rod as I fuck her face. More drool pools down her chest as she stares luridly at me her eyes full of lust and love. When I cum again down her throat she smiles as her spit and my cum pool all over her face and chest. She massages her massive chest before saying “Does daddy have enough for my tits?”

I growl as I take my cock and position it between her mounds. Yel moans as I manhandled her.

“Yes, Daddy use my body.” She says as I relentlessly pound into her pillowy tits. My possessiveness and affection ferment together as I watch her so effortlessly take all of me.

“Fuck babe. You’re taking me so well,” I praise Yel and her eyes grow bigger

“Please I only exist to please Daddy. I’ll make sure your balls are drained every morning before work and before bed. Just please let me be your baby girl.” I smile at Yel and say

“Of course.” She smiles and begins to drool even more on my cock before begging me to cum all over her huge tits.

“Come on Daddy please cum for me. Cum all over my tits mark me. Make me daddy’s little good girl,” Her pace is relentless as she fucks me with her tits she moans as her pace becomes breakneck.

“Oh fuck Daddy I’m cumming!” Yel screams. I watch as she can barely contain herself she jolts and it causes me to cum again as well. I paint her face neck and chest. Yel smiles and massages it all in before she says, “I can’t wait for you to fuck this tight pussy.”

I groan and pick her up before peeling her pants off. Yel moans as I do.

When I manage to get her tight jeans off I am greeted by her dripping pussy. I slam my face into it. I taste her nectar which has a sweet taste that’s a little sour. She moans and yells, “fuck Daddy don’t tease me fuck me with that fat cock.” I laugh and jam my cock into her. Yel moans satisfied. “Oh god yes.” She yells. Her walls are tight, but she is so wet that’s a nonissue. I easily slip in and out of her sopping cunt as massages my cum and spit into her tits.

“Oh yes, Daddy you fill me so well.” She said. I feel my lust surging as I thrust in and out of her at a pace matching the rhythm of her moans.

“Yes use me as a flashlight.” Yel moans as I thrust deeper and deeper until I hit her womb. She moans and then she yells

“Daddy I’m cumming again.” As she does her pussy clenches me tight. I hold out long enough to fuck her through her orgasm until she yells.

“Fuck Daddy you’re so big. You take me so well. Fill my cunt.” Helpless to her request I concede and fill her greedy pussy with my seed. She moans in approval. She smiles and then says.

“Can you take the rest of the day off?”

[fillthattank]

Heavyweight

A huge thanks to @plumpboybellies for requesting this story, it was very fun to write! Also, a shout out to a few friends for giving me a few ideas (you'll recognize yourselves!). This story wouldn't exist without you!

***

"I want you to move up a weight class," Colton's coach said. "I know you've been playing at this weight for a while, but you have a big frame. You'll be even better with more meat on you."

"How big do you want me?" Colton asked. 

Colton was a wrestler. 6'2'', 190 lbs, all of it muscle. His singlet hugged his lean body, highlighting every bit of definition. You could even guess the outline of his abs through the fabric.

"As big as you can? They removed the maximum weight limit a few years ago," Coach said. "Just bulk up as much as possible in the off season, we'll see how it works out after."

Colton nodded. This sounded fun.

"You'll probably have to kiss that eight-pack goodbye, but the extra muscle and all the heavyweight matches you'll be winning should more than make up for it," Coach laughed, slapping Colton's flat stomach.

Like any self respecting jock, Colton had a big appetite, but sticking to his wrestling weight meant he had to keep it under control. Every so often, Colton would overeat, whether it was wanting to impress his friends, having too much fun at a party, or just his stomach having the better of him, and he'd have to go on a brutal diet to cut back down.

This was, starting now, a thing of the past. After his meeting with Coach, Colton went to the nearest fast-food joint, and ordered 3 massive burgers from the get go. He knew he had the capacity, and now he could binge guilt-free.

Colton came back for a 4th. And a fifth. By then, his belly was bloated and stretching his shirt, making a gentle curve from under his pecs. That belly felt good, firm and heavy, a symbol of his newfound freedom.

"You sure about this?" Asked the vendor, as he ordered his 6th burger. Jocks overloading their bellies was a common occurrence, so some concern was natural.

"One hundred percent," he said, giving his bloated belly a good rub. It was starting to feel tight, but Colton knew there was room for at least one more.

Back at his flat, Colton took off his shirt, and checked out his gut. The six burgers had bloated him so much, it stuck out by a good 6 inches from under his pecs. His abs were still visible, making the belly look like a turtleshell.

This would be the last time Colton saw his abs, as he then opened his fridge, and continued his rampage. Chugging milk from the jug, eating an entire tub of grated carrots with the better part of a jar of mayo. Colton wasn't even sure of what some things were, he just ate them, and his belly stuck out even more. Not that he cared. He just wanted as much food as possible inside him.

Eventually, Colton got so bloated he had to lie down. His belly was a perfect ball now, his abs completely smoothed out by the tremendous volumes inside him. As if he'd been blown up like a balloon, except rather than air, it was solid, heavy food. His huge tank hurt, a bit, but it was a good pain. The kind you got after intense exercise, one that comes with a deep feeling of satisfaction. 

Colton stayed on his bed for a while, feeling up his tank of a belly, enjoying the fullness. He could have stayed like that all evening, but was this really his limit? He no longer had to keep his appetite under control, he could experiment a bit, right?

Still flat on his back, the bloated jock grabbed his phone from the bedside table, and ordered a pizza. His guilty-pleasure pizza, large and with all his favorite toppings, the one he always ordered when he felt down, or wanted to treat himself.

Waiting for the pizza to come was a haze. Digestion was starting to heat up his belly, to make him feel sleepy. When the bell rang, getting up was harder than expected. His gut was so heavy, his abs were so stretched, his quads working so hard to bear his weight. His stomach like a wrecking ball inside him. Maybe this was too much ?

All doubt vanished when he opened the door and smelled his favorite pizza. Colton felt the delivery guy's gaze on his muscular body and massive belly, giving him an extra confidence boost. He was a jock, and he had the muscle and the gut to eat meals smaller guys could only dream of.

Colton brought the pizza back to his bed, and ate it flat on his back, watching his musclegut rise a little bit with each slice. His stomach had probably reached capacity a while back, the jock now eating by sheer force of will. Pizza being dragged into his monster stomach by muscle memory. The pressure inside his stomach, the weight of all that food, the stretch on his abs, the heat of digestion, it was all one big dream-like haze. It wasn't a new feeling, but the stretching felt like heaven. The jock passed out not long after the last slice, using what strength was left in his tired body to give his bloated belly one final rub. This offseason was going to be fun

*

Colton woke up still bloated the next morning. He'd eaten so much even his rocket-speed metabolism hadn't been able to digest it all in one night. Weirdest of all, he was hungry. His belly didn't so much feel half full as it felt half empty.

Colton liked this. He made himself the biggest breakfast ever, and ate it all.

This became an everyday occurrence. Colton's belly was constantly bloated, and Colton was constantly eating. Each time his bloat went down a bit, he'd top it back up. And when his belly looked close to the limit, he'd force more food in the tank. He figured out a neat trick, if he rubbed the side of his belly with one finger after it got full, his stomach would be able to stretch a little more, allowing him to eat more.

Colton had no idea how fat he was or wasn't getting, or even what his weight was. He had to be constantly lugging a few dozens of pounds inside his gut, and it was so packed at all times he couldn't tell how much of it was muscle, fat, or just plain bloat.

All Colton knew is that he was indeed getting bigger, and was getting stronger. His arms were bigger, his pecs, his back, his legs, every muscle, actually, though with a big asterisk over his abs. Sure, people stared at him when he turned up at the gym looking pregnant, but their judgement turned to admiration when they saw how much he was lifting, or how much he could put away in just one meal.

*

The day before wrestling resumed, Colton checked himself out in the mirror. He looked so massive, so beefy, his big round gut looking great on his muscular frame. Colton picked up his singlet, unworn since the end of last season, looking forward to seeing what he'd be looking like for the next few months.

Putting it over his legs proved tough. Even his calves were tight, nevermind his massive quads. Colton painfully got it over his lower body, but when it reached his waist, the singlet blocked. Colton's enormous belly stuck out by about a foot over the girdle, so far out he didn't think he could pull the rest of it up without risking tearing the fabric.

Colton tried to suck in his belly. Tried, and failed. He could barely get it to stick out by a few inches less, and trying to suck it in any further made him feel he was about to throw up.

He stared at his reflection, his singlet hanging around his waist, his belly looking way too big. Maybe he'd taken the eating a bit too far? 

Colton decided to fast for the rest of the day. He needed his bloat to go down to fit in his singlet, and anyway, it would be useful to know his actual weight. Never mind that he probably had enough food still in his system to hibernate a whole winter.

The rest of the evening was miserable. Somehow, the many pounds of food inside Colton's enormous belly weren't enough. He now needed to be permanently stuffed. The overbulked jock went out on a run, the first in a while, hoping it would speed up his metabolism and help his belly deflate faster, but it just made him hungrier. And after months of non-stop overeating, falling asleep on a stomach that wasn't stuffed to the limit proved tough.

Out of habit, Colton took a pack of pancakes to eat as he cooked a monster omelette, before remembering. He miserably put the food back in the cupboards, his huge stomach begging him not to.

Getting dressed for his first day back wrestling, Colton found almost everything in his wardrobe was still tight around his belly, even empty. The jock had always liked wearing clothes that highlighted his physique, and had carried the bloated gut as a point of pride all the off-season, but now he felt almost embarrassed. Maybe he'd gone too far, maybe the hunger was just putting him on edge. He settled on a baggy tank top, that was loose everywhere, but that made up by showing off his meaty arms.

Colton was driving to his wrestling practice when he snapped. He passed the same burger place he'd had his first cheat meal at. Remembered stuffing himself, how good it had tasted, how nice his belly had felt. And decided he was so hungry it was probably unsafe to drive.

"You sure about this?" The vendor said, as he ordered one burger. "Don't even want a second, big guy?"

Colton's orders had been progressively getting bigger over his offseason, so this was a sudden change. Still, a second wouldn't hurt?

Colton started eating, and this was the best a cheap burger had ever tasted. He could feel the life force coming back to him as he gorged, as the food flowed into his huge hungry belly.  He ordered a 3rd burger, then a 4th, and kept eating more and more. He needed the food. It was a matter of life or death.

The jock returned to his car with his 8 burgers comfortably packed in his big round belly. He'd worry about his singlet when he got there. His belly felt so good. And he wasn't going to perform well if he was too hungry, right?

Stepping into the locker room, Colton noticed he was way bigger than the other wrestlers. Even bigger than he expected. Guys he used to think of as massive, he now outbulked. Some had trimmed down, others had beefed up, but no one had gained as much as Colton, and he wasn't the only one to notice.

"Wow Colt', look at those guns!" said a jock.

"Bro the other heavyweights won't stand a chance," said another, feeling up his biceps and triceps. Because of his loose tank top, his arms stood out the most. And yeah, they had grown a lot bigger.

Colton was more than happy to have all the guys playing withis his big arms. His bulk had been a success, after all. The tune changed, however, when Colton took off his shirt, revealing his massive belly.

"Bro, you got pregnant or what?" 

"Damn dude, I know coach said bulk up but damn. It looks like you've done nothing but eat everyday until that belly is past its limit! That's some serious extra heft bro."

Other wrestlers stopped what they were doing, and came up to see Colton's new belly for themselves.

"I ate a lot at lunch time," Colton said, trying to defend himself.

"Yeah, and at breakfast, and at dinner, and a lot of snacking too, everyday. We can tell," one wrestler replied. Colton couldn't think of a come-back, the guy was right.

"Guys just how much do you think we can fit in here?" said one guy, passing a hand over Colton's big belly. "A gallon? Two gallons? Maybe even three gallons? It's really huge!"

The whole wrestling team was around him, playing with his belly, when Coach stepped into the locker rooms.

"You guys never seen a heavyweight wrestler, or what?" 

The other jocks stepped back. Coach walked up to Colton, eyeing up his belly. Gave it a few slaps.

"They've got a point, though. This is one big belly," Coach said, giving it a few more pats. "Go get changed, son."

Colton blushed and acquiesced. As the other jocks walked out, Colton pulled his singlet out of his bag. He hadn't eaten that much, only eight burgers, and he'd fasted before, so he was probably going to fit, right?

As last night, it was tight around his legs, the fabric straining over his bulked quads. Getting it over his meaty butt was even harder. It hadn't grown as much as his belly, but he couldn't suck it in, meaning he had to force hard.

Then came the belly. Colton sucked it in as hard as he could, pulled the singlet up, and nothing happened. He just felt really tight around the places he'd already put it on.

Colton relaxed, took a few breaths. Looked at his huge round belly on his beefy frame. The extremely tight singlet around his quads. He checked out his backside in a mirror, it looked vacuum sealed. Still, if he could get it over his butt, he could get it over his belly, right?

The jock breathed out all the air in his lungs. Sucked his gut in so hard he almost felt one of the burgers come back up. The belly still stuck out by a few inches, but Colton could now slowly inch the singlet up over his paunch. By the time he'd gotten his arms through the holes, he'd been holding his breath for so long he was about to pass out.

Colton's singlet was back on, clinging tightly to every bit of his bulked body. So tight, it was as if it had been spray painted on him. His beefy pecs, his quads, and of course his big round belly, prominent even as he sucked it in. A big change from last season. 

Pleased with himself, Colton relaxed, breathing normally once again.

crrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaack

Colton heard fabric tearing. He looked down, and saw his singlet completely torn, his bare belly sticking far out.

"Uh, Coach!" he called out, "I have a problem."

[chemerr2]

eyeless jack headcannons :O can be sfw or nsfw <3

thank you anon I NEED THIS MAN. i need all 4 of his legs in front of my face. -SEXYPAPINOQUE

SFW !!

ik this is probably one of the most popular headcanons but he’s warm. He’s THE heated blanket everyone needs during the middle of winter. He’s usually warmer in places people wouldn’t normally touch or go near. Like his armpits for instance but that’s ok cause he’s comfortable with you being THAT close to him and on top of that he’s not musty!! yay!

best head massages known to man. those longs nails of his make you foam at the mouth when he slides them through your hair, on your scalp and the back of your neck.

very clean. like VERY. he cannot stand having a cluttered space especially when it’s his work area we’re talking about. he doesn’t go batshit crazy tho if his room has like 2 socks on the floor 💀 just doesn’t like to be surrounded by complete filth. Even tho he can’t work well in small spaces given his physical appearance and amount of equipment— he reminds himself to clean as he goes.

responsible but only for himself and you ofc. His reasoning for this is because he’s grown, toby is grown and so is jeff plus the others so he shouldn’t have to tell a 23 yr old to clean up after himself or wipe the toilet after he pisses cause he didn’t aim in the toilet.

always pampers you and chooses you over anyone else. sometimes he end up favoring your priorities over his own and forgets to do important things for himself. You wouldn’t even have to tell him because he’ll snap back to reality once he realizes he hasn’t done a chore or task he told himself he’d do.

like the cool older brother or the older brothers cool friend who takes you to the store and buy things for your mom when she’s cooking dinner

speaking of cooking, he can’t make anything past a traditional american breakfast dish (eggs, bacon, toast, grits or rice) other than that he’ll warm up a corn dog or reheatable pancakes in the microwave

if he has tomatoes on his burger snd he knows u like tomatoes he’ll give them to you. He’d give you a whole jar of pickles and drink the pickle juice (vice versa if u love pickle juice as much as me)

he stands in front of the tv likes he’s made of glass💀

DRAGS you by your arm, shirt, or ear if he even slightly thinks ur gonna get into an argument with anyone, For the sake of you and himself because 1. doesn’t want u to fight anyone AND 2. don’t want you to get ur feelings hurt. yep

NSFW !!

rmbr when i said i need all 4 of his legs? 🤭 yeah he’s got 2 FATASS DANGLING COCKS.

ok let’s keep it realistic, he’s inexperienced but he’s not a vulnerable virgin, he knows what boojaina is, he knows what ur cervix is— he knows all of it and how much the female body can take.

his dick is wide so 1 inch of his demomic- hybrid 8inch cock takes up the full capacity of ur hole ifykwim.

it looks like he’s always had a boner but it’s just his thick and heavy cocks finally getting a good nights rest when you aren’t around.

Loves when you trace the veins on his cock and kiss his ugly circumcised scar on both his cocks. See i can get all into detail about the scar but y’all probably would get turned off. ANYWAYS

humps you. dry. all night, every night. Your smaller than him, even if someone says your big— to HIM your a delicate feather in his hand and he tosses you like a salad gently. He proceeds w caution when he gives you the nasties backshots

idc idcccc ur butt may not be big but when he gives u backshots it sounds like poseidons trident causing hell on sea.

horny dog?? nah horny bear. He literally locks you both up in his room or office and breeds you heavily like he’s trying to form a football team.

[drpeppertummy]

teddy is my sweetest little guy & i love being sooo mean 2 him

[post-stuffing bellyache & bloating/belly expansion, burst teasing]

Teddy whined and hugged his arms around his distended tummy. It wasn't entirely his fault; it was only a few days before the full moon, and his cravings were through the roof. He'd managed to pack away five big burgers into his little belly in the past couple hours, and an enormous hunk of chocolate cake on top of it. The cake wasn't a werewolf craving, of course; it was a plain old human craving, although his increased appetite had pushed him to eat far more than he might have ordinarily. Fortunately, chocolate wasn't as dangerous to a werewolf like Teddy as it was to an actual wolf, but it wasn't free from consequence. For the most part, it simply caused cramping and bloating. With his belly already as swollen as it was from everything he'd eaten, bloating was not something Teddy could afford.

Now, he lay flat on his back in bed, his overstuffed belly pushing out tight as a drum, straining the buttons of his shirt and bulging so far he couldn't even see his feet past it. He would have sworn it was still swelling up; the pressure only seemed to be building inside him, and it rumbled and vibrated restlessly. Another pained whine escaped him as a cramp gripped his aching tummy. He held his bloated middle helplessly, desperate to relieve the unbearable pressure but too sore to move.

A sudden creaking sound caught Teddy's attention. If he wasn't already convinced his belly was still bloating, one of his shirt buttons popping open was plenty of proof. He relaxed a little; for a moment he was sure it was his tummy that was about to burst rather than his shirt. The relief didn't last, though. It was quickly replaced with worry--if there was enough pressure inside him to pop open his shirt, who was to say he wouldn't burst open too?

Groaning, he tried to sit up, but his stomach felt like a balloon caught in a press. He felt his shirt growing tighter still. He tried to force up a burp, but despite the gas that was building up worryingly inside his tummy, nothing came out. He moaned and clutched his bubbling, rumbling belly. It felt shockingly tight under his hands, even with the plush layer of fat covering his distended insides.

"Luna!" he cried frantically. His friend came hurrying in, worried by the sound of his voice.

"What is it? What's wrong? Oh, jeez, your belly…"

"I don't know what to do," he moaned. "I'm gonna explode!" As if to emphasize his point, another button popped open under the pressure of his slowly-but-steadily expanding belly.

"Oh, Jesus, you're blowing up like a balloon," she exclaimed. "Sit up, maybe it'll help the gas rise up."

"I can't! I'm too full."

"I'll help you," Luna insisted. Slowly and carefully, with a hand on his back, she eased him upright. His belly bulged out farther than ever in front of him, and the gap in his shirt buttons spread wide open over it.

"Come on," she urged, patting his back with one hand and rubbing his belly with the other. He tried again to burp, and she winced as his impossibly swollen tummy tensed up under her hand. He whimpered and moaned, his stomach stretching to its absolute limit, straining to hold itself together as it swelled tighter and tighter. His belly began to rumble loudly, and he braced himself.

"It's not working," he groaned, clutching his belly. "I'm gonna--" As if on cue, an enormous burp erupted from his mouth, so long and forceful that it fully knocked the wind out of him. He and Luna remained frozen for a moment, startled and astonished. Then, they looked at each other, still silent and wide-eyed, and then they dissolved into relieved laughter.

"Jesus Christ, Teddy," she laughed, flopping down on the bed. "No more chocolate for you!"

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

Anesthesia Ramblings

Dew gets top surgery and says some things while loopy on anesthesia.

(Not part of mushy may, though I’m considering writing something for it.)

Words: 877

Rating: T

Warning: mild description of surgery and medical procedures

Dew’s surgery had gone well, the doctor had told him as she‘d led Aether to Dew’s recovery room. She’d waited until the door was closed before letting him know that they’d had a few problems regarding the more supernatural elements of Dew’s body, but they were able to work around them.

Surgery on ghouls was extremely uncommon. Quintessence was the main tool in helping ghouls heal from sickness or injuries, so they rarely needed a physical procedure. Not to mention, ghouls couldn’t hold a glamour while unconscious. Their bodies healed themselves very quickly as well, which wasn’t ideal in surgery.

Through a stroke of luck, one of the few top surgeons in Sweden was a Clergy member. She’d previously lived at the Ministry headquarters, so she had full knowledge of the existence of ghouls. She had pulled together a surgical team who were willing to operate on a ghoul.

As a precaution, they had to have a Quintessence ghoul in the operating room to make sure Dew’s body didn’t try to fight the surgery. Omega had volunteered- he was the oldest Quint, had the most medical experience, and wasn’t about to let Aether go through the experience of watching his husband get cut open.

But now Dew was safe and sound, newly boobless and knocked out in the hospital bed. Aether was happy to have Dew back, but he was a little frustrated at how long it was taking for him to wake up. The doctor had assured him Dew would be fine despite the higher dose of anesthesia needed to knock him out, but Aether was still anxious.

He reached over and took Dew’s hand, lacing his fingers with the other man’s. He instinctively gave it three gentle squeezes- I love you.

Dew’s fingers twitched and Aether released his hand, worried he’d caused Dew pain. Then Dew’s hand moved again and he let out a soft grunt.

“Dew?” Aether asked, touching his husband’s arm. “Can you hear me?”

Dew grunted again in response. He moved his head to the side and cracked his eyes open. Aether smiled brightly.

“Hi, love. How do you feel?” Aether took Dew’s hand again.

“I…” Dew mumbled. “You’re… nice. But I… married. Sorry.”

“Yeah, married to me.” Aether snorted. He sneakily pulled his phone out of his pocket and started taking a video- the rest of the pack would definitely want to see this. It wasn’t every day that Dew was off his ass on anesthesia.

“Nooo…” Dew rolled his head back and forth, his eyes still barely open. “He’s… big. Strong. Makes good…” he trailed off, seemingly searching for a word. “Yellow fruit. Bread out of that.”

“Banana bread?” Aether chuckled.

“That’s the bitch.” Dew mumbled. Aether snorted.

“Alright, tell me more about your husband. He sounds pretty cool.” Aether teased.

“‘S… strong. Biiiiig arms. Size of… damn big arms.” Dew tried to gesture but couldn’t manage to lift his hands more than a few inches off the bed. “Sexy. Ooooh… he plays guitar, too. He’s sooo cool.” Dew grinned sleepily.

“Mhm. You really love this guy, don’t you?” Aether chuckled. Dew nodded emphatically.

“Mmm… love ‘im lots. He’s reeeeally hot.” Dew giggled. “Good ass. Better dick.” He yawned and nuzzled into his pillow. “Fuckin’… balls, too. Real set of hangers on ‘im.”

“Yeah?” Aether could barely contain his laughter. “Anything else about him?”

“Mmmm… no. You can’t have him.” Dew replied stubbornly. “‘M sleep now. Night.”

“Alright, goodnight.” Aether chuckled and patted Dew’s hand. He ended the video, looked over at Dew (who was now drooling on the pillow), and burst into giggles.

He’d never let Dew live this one down.

—

“I said what?” Dew asked incredulously. He’d woken up from his nap fully lucid and immediately demanded food, which Aether had delivered from the hospital cafeteria. He’d devoured his tasteless burger with surprising speed, considering he couldn’t move his arms very much.

“Let’s see… you said I made good banana bread, had nice arms, and had, and I quote, ‘a real set of hangers.’” Aether grinned, another round of giggles threatening to make its way out of him.

“The fuck does that mean?” Dew snorted, taking a cautious bite of a lukewarm fry and making a face. “Ugh, these have like, no salt on them.”

“You wanna see the video?” Aether handed over his phone. Dew watched the video, his expression slowly morphing into one of surprise and horror.

“Oh no.” Dew muttered. He handed Aether’s phone back to him, glaring as the other man laughed at his horrified face. “This can never see the light of day, understand?”

“Uh… about that…” Aether composed himself, though he was still grinning.

“You didn’t.” Dew gasped and tried to grab the phone back with his T-Rex arms. “Give it!”

“For the record,” Aether laughed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “The general consensus was that ‘hangers’ was an excellent way to describe my balls.”

“I want a divorce.” Dew huffed, pointedly turning back to his food.

[fitgirlfemdom]

This fictional story is a continuation of this story which is a continuation of THIS story.

This fictional story is 18+ and contains: public humiliation?, femdom, weight teasing, overstim, mommy kink, gentle dom, and a happy ending <3

"Logan, we got your favorite."

He glanced up from the couch, surrounded by his nest of empty red Solo cups, soda bottles, empty bags of chips, and empty plates. He had his laptop in front of him, with the newest MMORPG he'd been grinding on for two weeks now. Logan heaved himself up, pulling his glasses from his face and running his fingers through his fluffy locks of hair. He felt half-asleep.

"We also brought your favorite," Cole said from the kitchen.

Logan walked in, wiping at his eyes with the palms of his chubby hands. "What's that supposed to--?"

In walked Anna and Cassie, chatting about something or other. A few other girls and guys emerged, all of them being Cole's friends from work or school. The second Cassie's eyes landed on him, he felt a deep shiver run down his spine. Immediately, he felt his face grow hot. The last time he saw her was when he... accidentally came inside her. She was on the pill, but nonetheless, she was rightfully pissed.

On the kitchen table were bags of food from a local burger place. He watched as Cole pulled out his chicken sandwich with a small helping of fries. He watched as Anna brought out her little dainty salad with chicken strips. He stared dejectedly at the large bag in front of his chair.

Some of Cole's friends said hello, and some just gave him passing glances. He felt underdressed in his tank top and sweatpants.

"Cassie, you remember Logan, right? You guys met?" Cole asked, cluelessly. Logan could feel the girl's eyes on his skin. He couldn't take his eyes off the bag. The last thing he wanted to do was pull out all the food he was planning on eating. It was like some sort of humiliation ritual.

"Oh, I remember," Cassie said low. "I actually was planning on talking to you, Logan--if you had a second."

"Uh..." This couldn't be good. Was it a crime to finish inside someone if they said not to? Was she gonna press charges? Was she gonna kill him? Did he actually fuck up that bad? He couldn't help but stammer, "U-Um, yeah... Sure..."

She beckoned him down the hallway as both Anna and Cole exchanged confused glances.

His heart dropped when they went towards the bathroom, and it sunk further when she closed the door behind them.

"You're gonna make it up to me," was the first thing out of her mouth.

"In, um... In what way?" Logan stuttered, watching as she pulled out a small cylindrical device from her purse. "Is that...?"

"A bullet vibrator."

He held his hands up. "You are not putting that up my ass."

She rolled her eyes. "You're so fucking stupid." She pulled out a few hair ties as well. "I'm gonna strap this to your dick. I can control it from my phone." Without warning, she yanked down his sweatpants, revealing his free cock. He must've forgotten to put on boxers. She smirked. "The vibe might be too big, come to think of it..."

"M-My dick's not that small." He made for it to sound firm and defiant. It did not.

She knelt down and fastened the small, purple device to his cock, jacking it a few times to get it semi-hard. The hair ties were tight and pretty uncomfortable. Seeing her on her knees immediately did the trick--If she'd glanced up at him, he might've leaked.

She stepped back, admiring her work, as she yanked up his sweatpants. His face was bright red. "We're gonna have a nice dinner now," Cassie cooed, her voice domineering and low. "And you're gonna try your best not to embarrass yourself."

"But--"

"I was planning on inviting you three out to dinner," she said, turning to open the bathroom door. "Y'know, so I could see your face when you cum down your leg in an Applebee's, or something."

"Oh, but--"

She cut him off, saying over her shoulder as they walked down the hallway, "You should thank me, though, for being so kind."

He muttered out a stagnant, "...Thank you," as they reemerged in the kitchen, with Cassie as neutral as ever and Logan so red, the other two must've noticed.

What'd happened to him? He would never let a girl ever disrespect him like this before. He used to slap girls in bed, making them call him Daddy as he spat in their mouths. He wasn't a sadist by any means, but he thought that's what guys did. He actually could remember when he made the switch.

It was the summer after high school, when he was still deciding if he was going to go to college, despite losing the scholarship. He met this cute girl at a coffee spot, and they really hit it off. It wasn't until that night, when he really thought he bagged another bitch, that she saw his dick, and audibly laughed. She told him to put it away and drive her home, laughing the whole way.

He realized he was a muscular, handsome, over 6-foot, charismatic guy who looked like he should be on the cover of a magazine, but it felt like it didn't matter. Once he finally let himself go completely, he just kept telling himself that even if he lost all the weight, took care of himself, and got himself back on his feet, self-respecting girls would just laugh at him, and he couldn't take that. Internet girls wouldn't. Internet girls didn't care if he lived or died.

He pulled out the two double-cheeseburgers and large serving of fries from his bag, as well as the chicken tenders and vanilla milkshake. Suddenly, he felt sick, and uncomfortable, and unconfident. As he went to take the first bite of his burger, that feeling changed.

Suddenly, he felt very, very turned-on, and it must've been from the vibe on his crotch.

As Cole talked about his stocks and investments to the others at the table, Logan couldn't help but choke back a moan. The vibe was right up against the most sensitive part of his body, right up against his cockhead, and with the base of it snug against his balls. It was distracting. He glanced over to Cassie, who was smiling at her phone. He watched her drag her thumb upward, and at that moment, the vibrator intensified.

"Fuck," Logan breathed out, taking another bite. He had to pretend it wasn't that, that it wasn't happening. If he just didn't focus on it, it'd be gone, and no one would think he was a total pervert. It'd be one thing if it was just Cole and Anna, but with all these unfamiliar faces, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He almost wished Cassie just pressed charges, or pushed him off a cliff. "Ah, fuck..."

"Something wrong, Lo?" Cole asked, plucking a fry. "Oh yeah, guys--This is Logan. He's a friend from high school. He's our roommate."

He thought he'd slipped by the awkward introductions, but there he was, smiling at the other people at the table, pretending his cock wasn't twitching against his sweatpants.

"I'm fine, just..." He shook his head, trying to laugh it off. "Just got this throbbing headache."

"Throbbing, huh?" Cassie asked, still staring at her phone. She was really messing with the settings, setting the vibrations to a dull murmur before hiking them up to the highest possible option. "You're probably just hungry."

Nobody noticed, but she definitely meant it as some sort of diss. He was the heaviest one at the table, by far, and he had the biggest order. He couldn't lie, though. Being horny did make him hungry, and he couldn't understand why.

As the conversation drifted to someone else, Logan went back to eating his burger. It was pretty good. He was a frequent customer at this place, much to his waistline's dismay. He really hoped everyone else hadn't noticed how much he was moaning while eating. At one point, when he was finishing his tenders, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He really hoped no one noticed that.

His cock twitched. He was uncertain if he was going to make it through this meal without shooting ropes down his chubby thighs. He must've been making a scene--A few of the girls he didn't know at the table were snickering amongst themselves.

"Are you okay, Logan?" one of them--a particularly pretty, blonde one--asked. She was smirking behind her hand. They must've known something incredibly humiliating was happening. Maybe they could hear the vibrator. Maybe it was because he was sweating like a horny pig. Maybe it was because his nipples were so prominent against his stained tank top. Maybe, maybe, maybe--He was losing his mind.

He knew Cassie would be pissed, but he didn't care. He rose to his feet and left, unannounced, to the bathroom. He had to get this stupid vibrator off, before--

He made it halfway down the hallway before he fell to his knees. He bit on his wrist to stifle a moan as he came, with the streams of cum seemingly never-ending. It must've been twenty seconds before it was over, as the vibe continued to torture him. The front of his sweatpants, and bottom of his gut, were stained and sopping wet. When he opened his eyes, he saw Cassie staring down at him.

"You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would," she said flatly. He slowly rose to his feet, using the wall as support. He felt so sensitive, so vulnerable, and the vibe just kept stimulating him, on and on. He was still leaking.

"Cassie, I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that the other day," he breathed out. He couldn't look her in the eye. "I... You were just so pretty, and I..."

"You just had to blatantly overstep my boundaries?"

"No, that's not--" He watched as she raised the intensity on her phone. "Fuckin' hell--Turn it off."

"I don't like your attitude." She pushed him down the hallway, and with the vibrator so strong against his cock, he couldn't put up much of a fight.

They were back in the bathroom again.

He fell to his knees on the tiled floor as she locked the door. Every muscle in his body was contracting. His head was pounding. He started gripping at his waistband. "That's it--I... I can't--"

"You disobeyed me." She crossed her arms over his full chest.

"I... I did," he admitted, tears stinging his eyes. "I'm sorry. It just... You said you'd punish me if I did it, and it..." Her arms lowered. "I... Fuck it, I like being punished by girls like you."

She was silent, and her expression was completely neutral. "...What?" she asked at last, lowering the intensity of the vibe.

Logan covered his face. "I like getting talked down to. I like being humiliated. I like getting slapped around by pretty girls. It turns me on. And... And I just figured, y'know, whatever you'd do to me... It couldn't make my life any worse."

She was silent. He didn't know what could possibly be going through her head until she knelt down in front of him on the floor. They were level to one-another. She pulled down his sweatpants and unstrapped the vibe, throwing it off to the side.

"You're probably right about that," she sighed, finally making eye contact. "Your life is pretty shitty." Cassie looked askance. "Maybe I should go a little easier on you." She met his eyes. "Against the sink."

"What?"

"Lean against the sink, facing the mirror."

He did as he was told, standing to see his gross self in the reflection. She was so much shorter than him, and so much more petite, but he watched as she forced him down to bend over the counter, taking his cock in her hand as she jerked him off. She leaned against his back.

"You're still so hard," she cooed, stroking him softly and slowly. He bit his lip as he stared down the drain. "I want you to cum again. Can you do that for me?"

"Y-Yes..." he breathed out. This dynamic was new to him. He'd never even treated a girl like this, much less be on the receiving end.

"Just focus on me stroking you." He couldn't help but whine. "Focus on me milking you dry. Focus on my soft hands."

"O-Okay..."

"Everyone's outside, eating dinner," she whispered sweetly, "And you're in here, being a good boy for Mommy."

There was that word again. It made his stomach flip.

"Aw, sweetie..." She wiped at his lip with her other hand. "You're drooling."

"It just... It feels good, I'm sorry," he breathed out.

"That’s okay, baby… Does it feel that good?”

“Y-Yes, it does.” He could feel his small cock twitch in her grip.

“Imagine if it was my cunt wrapped around you," she whispered. His breath hitched. "Imagine rutting your little cock into something warm."

"Ah, fuck." Her hand was so tight, and his dick was already slick from the amount of times he'd leaked already.

"Do you think you could make me cum from your cock?" she mewled, gripping the base of his jaw with her free hand. She wasn't choking him, but it made him tighten up nonetheless. "Or is it too small? Am I just gonna have to use your face?"

"I could... uh..." he groaned out. It was hard to think. He couldn't keep his eyes open for too long, mainly because he hated to see his reflection. “It’s too small, I’m sorry.”

"You are good at head... Must be all the eating you do." She was stroking him faster, holding up his gut with her other hand. He was so sensitive there. "And you're so stupid... So brainless... You'd be happy to suck my clit all day. It's not like you work or anything."

"I wanna suck on your clit," he admitted pathetically, his voice barely over a dull whimper.

"Shh... I wanna feel you cum in my hand first." She was stroking faster, and his breaths were growing more rapid. "Then you can suck off Mommy, when you're nice and empty."

“I wanna suck you off…”

“Hear how pathetic and embarrassing you sound,” she breathed out. “It’s making Mommy so wet.”

He still couldn't get over how much that word turned him on. He could look introspectively into his own personal mommy issues, but that would definitely fuck up his vibe. He'd much rather feel his cock melt in her hand as he shot ropes into the sink, moaning out so loud that Cassie had to wrap her hand around his mouth.

"Shh… Good boy... Cum for Mommy," she cooed, her engorged chest right up against his back. He could feel every inch of himself shaking as he finished leaking, his breath rapid and his heart beating out of his chest. “Mm… You made such a mess.”

“Fuck… Cole’s gonna give me so much shit for this la—“ He was cut off by Cassie kissing him from the side, taking his lips against her own. It surprised Logan, but he slowly melted into her embrace, taking the sweetness of her lip gloss. It was long, and breathy, and a bit awkward because of their height difference, but he was glad she milked him dry before. It felt so deep, he probably would’ve cum again.

“I wanna do that again sometime,” she whispered, staring up at him with big brown eyes.

"I really wanna make that happen." He was panting. He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I… I wanna make you cum. I wanna do something for you.”

“How about you come home with me tonight? Make it up to me?” she cooed. Then she turned to the door. “Come on—Our food’s getting cold.”

wanna support my page? my cashapp is $fgffund and sending is 100% optional :0

[glacierclear]

Can I... can I ask for some househusband Leon hcs?

alright. okay. we're gonna work with a few assumptions for these headcanons.

this all comes from the hypothetical of leon being fully retired from his line of work. he still has the same backstory, skillset, traumas, everything, it's just...now he's your loyal house husband!

cooking? this all depends on where he's at in life. mid-30s and onward? he's a chef. i don't believe he'd be terribly gourmet about it. you aren't coming home to a roasted duck served with a reduced wine glaze and a perfectly made risotto...but god. he can make some damn fine spaghetti. he'd likely shoot for simple dishes, with perhaps an added flair or two. homemade burgers. lots of steak dinners. he'd prefer anything that can be prepared with minimal mess. recipes that are made with one pot or one pan...a big hit for him. he is not a pretentious eater, and that would reflect in his cooking.

now, if we're talking early to late-20s leon? erm. well. let's just say he's learning. his transition from zombie apocalypse policeman to military meat shield didn't do much for his cooking skills. and a diet of MREs and scrounged up viper parts did even less. if post-re4 leon is your house husband you're gonna be eating a lot of questionable meals. he's not completely oblivious. he won't try and feed you absolute slop, but his abilities don't much exceed kraft mac and scrambled eggs. still! he's a domestic man now. plenty of free time to try out all sorts of new things in the kitchen! be on standby with a fire extinguisher when he decides 3am is a great time to make fried chicken from scratch!

leon's independent food preferences likely revolve around utility. protein. nutrition. careful rations. compact energy a growing boy needs to kill bioweapons. he doesn't strike me as having a particularly strong sweet tooth, but he also won't say no to a bit of dessert! but he's adaptable, of course. one must be in his line of work. your tastes and favored dishes will influence his palate a lot. he'll naturally associate flavors with you and will, over time, come to adopt a lot of your dietary choices.

cleaning? leon will do his best. you can count on him to not accidentally mix mustard gas in your bathroom, but his knack for cleanliness would be...odd. i choose to believe leon has a strict standard for bodily hygiene. his extended exposure to all manner of glop and viscera means he strives to smell nice and stay on top of dirt the best he can when he is able to...on his body. a house is different. he's never had to see it as a home, merely an empty room where he sleeps and eats. so maintaining it as a tidy space might not come naturally, and it's not as if he had a proper upbringing to teach him proper housekeeping techniques (cough, cough, he's an orphan).

man's a fast learner though. expect a lot of trial and error. him accidentally using glass cleaner on the stove. or not understanding the exact purpose of fabric softener. why do we need make our bed if we're just gonna sleep in it and mess it up again? he likely has a lot of bad habits from living on his own, but gentle guidance and persistent advice will go a long way.

of course, leon needs his private time. space for him to isolate and be alone...but, you're at work all day. the loneliness is easily accessible, and now that he has all the time and freedom to be with you...it's grating. his favorite sound is the noise your key makes when it unlocks the front door. he's careful, not incredibly overbearing, but you don't make it more than a few steps into your home before his head is poking around the corner. "how was your day? you look tired. here, let me take your coat off-" leon is a listener. he doesn't talk about himself much, if at all, so he'd prefer to just hear you ramble on about whatever you need to or want to. neck rubs. gentle squeezes on your arm. light kisses on your brow. he doesn't smother. he doesn't drown you in the touch he's so starved of. but you can tell, he misses you a lot.

the real issues will probably stem from the quiet. the absolute lack of danger. take a person out of their traumatic environment and things start crumbling real fast before they can start to heal. he's hyper-aware. paranoid. has all this pent up energy and an instinct to fight. and he has to redirect it all somewhere, right? it'd come out in bizarre ways. diy projects. you come home from work and he built you a fucking chair. you don't even need a chair, but now you have one. lots of yard work. he renovated your patio and set up a birdhouse (also handmade). you didn't really want him to rearrange your living room but he did it anyways.

and it's hard for him to relax. for him to feel truly safe. he'd insist on installing locks on all the doors. bulletproof windows. guns hidden and stashed in corners of the house, just in case. any tech that could impede on his privacy (ie, amazon echos, doorbell cameras, etc) are out of the question. he'd run you through drills and hypothetical scenarios. make sure you know what to do in any situation. he's vigilant, and honestly, you've never felt safer, but it wears him down and you aren't sure if it's truly good for him.

[londonfog-chan]

Eddie Munson x Reader: Ulterior Motives

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+. Mentions of smutty things and pot. Also mentions of being high if that doesn’t sit right with you. Please use your better judgment and be safe out there with edibles y’all.

I fucking told you all this shit would happen one day. I told you I was working on that Ulterior Motives fic. Here it is babes.

***

It was the sexy beat of the drums that probably caught you off guard.

“Baby…”

The wet sound of his tongue against your neck intermingled with the sinful sounds blaring on the television. You tasted like Betty Crocker chocolate.

And then the keyboard came… Maybe a Yamaha or Lowrey.

The sexy percussions…

“Baby…?”

He couldn’t hear you, fumbling for the fly of his jeans as your underwear went sailing over the couch. An unintelligible groan rippled through his throat as the actress on the flick began to sound off, and then the vocalist came on…

“-ing in yo… yes make me realize...”

“Eddie get off I can’t hear!”

You pushed Eddie Munson off you abruptly and his head smacked hard into the coffee table, making him yelp in pain.

Clutching the aching part of his skull and ruffling the messy waves of his brown locks, he looked indignant to see you crawling out from under him on all fours. Your pathway was clear ahead: straight for the glow of the television that beckoned in the dark room like a forbidden idol against the teal carpet and wood panels of your family’s home. The haze of pain sadly didn’t allow him to admire the curvaceous view he currently had of your behind as you crawled on hands and knees. Which was a shame, because you were clad in nothing but his Black Sabbath shirt, and the view from the back was spectacular.

But for you to push him off that quickly… Maybe he did something wrong?

“I’m sorry!” he began quickly apologizing, pulling up his underwear and zipping the fly of distressed Levis quickly as though someone had just walked in, “Sorry! I guess I just got carried away and I thought you wanted…”

“Shhh!”

Eddie froze. His face contorted further into worry. He thought you were going to tell him you heard the characteristic car door slam of your mother’s 1979 Dodge Aspen from the adjacent garage. Evidently the last thing on your mind was hearing anything except for the television. You were pressed against the speaker, trying to listen in to something, although he doubted it was the wet noises or the groaning currently playing out.

Guilt and dread filled his chest. It was all going to shit. This had all been his idea and the whole experience had been one long string of bad luck altogether.

Originally it was a simple plan concocted after you finally passed Mr. Mundy’s remedial math final with a C. Weeks of struggling through understanding your homework and your boyfriend’s high proficiency help finally paid off. Eddie had taken you out to Palace Arcade to spoil the shit out of you with as much time as you wanted on the new Elvira pinball machine, but he felt that treat was just too tame in comparison to achieving such a big goal. Considering Mundy was the last obstacle standing in your way for graduation with him, Eddie thought of something more enticing to welcome you into the ranks of those who would walk for their diploma.

He'd proposed the idea when you called him to tell him your mother had to leave for a few days on business. A different scenario was pictured then: a fun night in with a sleepover at your place with some greasy burgers and crinkle cut fries from Big Top, homemade Munson Special Treats, and a suspiciously obtained copy of one of his favorite porno flicks, Angels of Passion, for the evening’s viewing pleasure. Concluding the evening with a stoner’s nightcap and eating everything the two of you could get your grubby hands on afterwards.

It had been going well up until you flipped out on the shitty music.

“Baby… are you ok?” Eddie asked, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up.

He got scared when you didn’t respond at all. Hardly acknowledging he was there.

“Oh fuck me Freddy… Green out babe? You’re not having a bad one are you?!” He asked, his heart racing with fear. “Was it too strong for you? I told you to tell me if you started feeling-…”

“SHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

You turned around with a scowl, putting your finger to your lips as you shushed him harshly. Whether it was Eddie’s ‘special treats’ working their magic or it was the actual shitty pop that Eddie hated, you were simply unmovable. The tune wasn’t Eddie’s style at all, then again if he was watching an adult film he wasn’t really paying attention to whatever out of tune noise the director chose for music. But you seemed fascinated.

You hummed softly along to it, and when the scene ended, you immediately rewound the tape.

“Woah… ok, what are we doing here baby? What are you listening for?” he asked, crawling over to sit next to you as you worked the Betamax.

“What is this melody?!” you asked, using a mocking British accent that you often took on for your rogue character during Hellfire’s current Battle for Baldur’s Gate Campaign.

“… the shittiest stock music known to man?” Eddie responded, and it took him a while to formulate a coherent answer that was both kind and not outright laughing at you, “It’s porno music babe. If it ain’t metal it means nothing to us.”

“Holy fuck…” you hissed through your teeth, “This song… it… it’s really fucking awesome?!”

Okay… Now what the fuck else were you eating besides badly made pot brownies from Uncle Wayne’s tiny kitchen?!

“… You’re kidding, right? Baby… it’s a POP song! Since when do we listen to pop?! Bad pop at that, some of the shittiest music imaginable and you’re here acting like it’s Mr. Crowley.”

Eddie was flailing his arms, almost hurt with you for turning against his strict metal only code in his presence. Normally you had varied tastes, and he tolerated it to a point; the only rule was nonmetal did not exist in your shared van, but anything goes on your Walkman where you could plug in your headphones and Eddie could blast something else on the cassette deck of his 1971 Chevy Van.

“Yeah that’s it… you’ve had way too much.” Eddie said, beginning to try and pull you away from the television, “No way would you find this crap enjoyable if you weren’t completely baked and tone deaf.”

“Eddie no, you don’t understand this is… how the fuck is a porno song this good???” you hissed to yourself.

It had to be the brownies… Had to be… What the hell else could it have been?! Pulling at his hair, Eddie reasoned you had to have eaten too much against his advice. Admittedly he’d bitten off a little more than he could chew today as well, and he could feel it settle in the longer he tried to pull you away from the tv. He usually could pull off pregaming a joint before a treat and still maintain some modicum of law and order of the two of you, but you’d never done this before. You had insisted earlier you would be fine, but he suspected you had bitten off more than you could chew. Definitely on the verge of a green out if your taste in music was declining this badly.

“Eddie this is so good… how the hell did they get like actual musicians to perform for a porn?” you asked, almost desperate. “I wish I could hear the rest of it… if this stupid bitch wasn’t moaning her little bimbo head off…”

“Sweetheart, that’s the whole point of the flick…” Eddie said, holding you against him as he looked deeply into your eyes. “It’s just something to have on in the background while the lead gets plowed like a cornfield. Doesn’t have any other kind of special meaning beyond that.”

You weren’t even paying attention. Completely transfixed, possessed even, as you began to hum along with the song, shaking your backside slightly with the beat. When you began to sing, Eddie had a moment where his brain began to short circuit. You had quite a captivating voice, deep and contralto, although he could never convince you to sing for him beyond screaming along to Rainbow in the Dark while parked out at Lover’s Lake.

“… everyone knows that… ulterior motives… what the hell did he say…?” You muttered, trying to follow along with the lyrics.

You rewound the video at least eight times, each time ignoring Eddie complaining and trying to get you to stop. The music was so bad, he didn’t even notice that after a while, he started feeling like maybe he’d also had a little too much. Shit! He definitely fucked up and pregamed a little too much in anticipation of your sleepover. He should have been paying attention. There was a point where he’d thought he’d rolled tobacco and not the reefer, and cautiously ate a little more of the brownies when after an hour he hadn’t felt the high, but he certainly could have just checked better and stayed with eating only half.

Each time you rewound the tape, you learned a little more of the song, until you perfectly memorized the lyrics that you were able to hear.

“Oh my god Eddie…” you said, completely out of your mind. “Holy shit… I think this is the best song ever written?”

“Jesus H. honey… What, are you a little preppie cheerleader that listens to Madonna now? You a jock?!” There wasn’t much lyrical genius that he could make out above the obnoxious moaning of the actress currently being engaging in the illicit acts. “Listen babe, let’s forgo the porno, okay? I’ll put on our album instead and we’ll listen to real music. You want that baby? I know you love Holy Diver?”

“Eddie just… Just trust me… ha… haha…” you suddenly had a fit of giggles, excited and tickled that you were able to learn the lyrics so quickly. You could hardly talk. And Eddie could hardly even get himself together enough to just shut the damn tv off.

But what happened next suddenly changed everything: you stood up quickly, and began swaying.

“Oh good God above now you’re dancing, babe, come back here…!”

At first Eddie scrambled to his feet, he was afraid the love of his life was going to fall and crash into the entertainment center, but you seemed to really be dancing, following the rhythm fairly well for being baked out of your mind. Your dance was sloppy, wild and reckless, you gyrated your hips mostly, dancing like you were the only one in the room.

Eddie froze. He was almost transfixed, more so on the way you danced rather than the fact that you were transfixed on the song still.

“Eddie watch just… just listen to it again…” you stopped to have a fit of laughter.

“I don’t like this...!” he said, more cautious than curious at this point.

“Eddie! Just trust me! Let me listen to it again, one more time…! Please?”

He hesitated. Every fiber of his being screaming about the dangers that having both of you out of your minds could cause. The logical part of his brain screamed danger, saw it lurking in the sharp corners, odds and ends and angles of the room. He should get you both to bed before one of you got hurt. He should be the responsible one for once in his goddamned life instead of being the bad influence…

“God dammit…” he growled, wiping the final remnants of shame from his face. “Fine. One more time, and then we’re shutting shit down.”

You couldn’t press rewind fast enough. The scene began all over again with the drums, a soft ‘oh yeah’ from the blonde star being worked over by some stud, honestly at this point Eddie had seen the blonde get railed under the giant Coca Cola poster so many times and was getting so high as time marched on he couldn’t even find it in himself to get hard. He was utterly desensitized to the scene, until he saw you begin to dance again, and you were looking at him like you were starving.

“Something in your eyes makes me realize… how strained this feels...” your voice was smooth, a low alto so unlike anything he’d heard in his life. Although you weren’t practiced, and still very high, something about the way you seemed to just be enjoying yourself, letting loose… through the floating giddy feeling creeping up on him, Eddie was just completely captivated watching his beautiful lover have unabashed fun dancing to terrible music.

You reached out to Eddie, fingers beckoning him to dance with you, hips swaying as you continued to sing along.

Now how could he resist you like that? All hot and bothered, needy for him, beckoning him in for a dance…

He moved automatically in, moving slightly to the beat as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressed against him while singing the chorus, sweet little voice softening when you sang ‘tell me the truth’ in a cadence that lilted up at the end, as if you were trying to flirt with him. It was actually very endearing… and Eddie was finding the longer the song went on, he didn’t actually mind the song so long as it was you singing to him.

The longer you danced together, closely pressed against one another, the greater the intensity of the passion was as the raw sexual tension built up. You slowly slid your hands down Eddie’s body, massaging and teasing him as you then slipped your hands into the back pockets of his jeans. You gave him a firm, loving squeeze. Your eyes were watery, squinting up at him in the dark, but to him you looked like an angel.

It had to be the sounds from the television getting to you both on some subconscious level, because the next thing he knew Eddie was being pulled backwards until you both hit the couch, Eddie pinning you to the cushions as you continued to dance, swaying and moving against one another. He didn’t know when it started happening, just knew that at some point the Levis were pooled at his ankles and there you were. Surrounding every sense all at once. Buried in warmth. He was so consumed by a passion that burned hot and heavy, following a rhythmic pattern of give and take, soft and wet, hot and heavy all at the same time, the once terrible music becoming a symphonic masterpiece as you and he made music of your own.

When he pulled away from you, after the most earth shattering peak of enticement, he noticed you were staring at him with stars sparkling in your eyes.

“Best song ever written, right?” you asked, mouth hanging open as you both panted in the aftermath of love.

“Yeah…” he breathed, trying desperately to catch his breath as you took it away with your beauty. “Best song ever written babe…”