#maybe a little bit like garfield

[thebeardlyben]

Behold! My lazy pie-loving tabaxi rogue bordering on the very edge of copyright infringement.

Playing him for a one-shot this weekend :P

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 04. THE CLIFFHANGER

PREV. PART | NEXT PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like! some cursing and a tiny bit of angst because why not.

TWITTER — JUL 11 & 12, 2023

INSTAGRAM POST — JUL 15, 2023

Liked by user98, y/n_gossip and 315,886 others

paddockgossip We have some interesting news about Charles and Y/N relationship! They both were at an event last night, but with two different people and (thanks to our insider!) we know that they didn’t talked or crossed paths, they didn’t even looked at each other! Do we know why? Maybe it was Charles’ plus one, who is, if you’ve been following their relationship, the same girl Charles was seen with back in Austria.

Trouble in paradise? We all saw the pictures of Y/N and her ex-boyfriend Andrew Garfield out and about in London just a few days ago. And now we only have this mess which seems to be following both Charles and Y/N everywhere they go.

Is this the end of a relationship that had only just begun?

view all 1,425 comments

user98 i don’t think they’re together anymore. it didn’t look serious from the beginning

user99 Charles deserves better. This girl was on a date with her ex boyfriend a few days ago, I wouldn’t forgive that so easily.

user01 okay but you don’t know what happens behind closed doors user99 I’m just saying what Charles should do. user02 but you’re not charles leclerc, are you?

user03 i’m a child of divorce

user04 I haven’t even got them over my parents divorce and now this happens

user05 They both are being sooo childish

user06 i prefer him dating his friend than this girl

user07 what friend? user06 the one he was with in Austria, i think she’s an influencer, i’m not sure user08 y/n is WAY better user09 Maybe Charles is the problem. Let’s not do this awful thing between women like you always do when shit happens

user10 I hate gossip pages so much.

user11 NOOO I loved them together 😭

user12 that was such a power couple

Y/N’S iMESSAGE — JUL 15, 2023

INSTAGRAM STORIES — JUL 17, 2023

INSTAGRAM POST

📍 PARIS, FRANCE — JUL 25, 2023

Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 892,556 others

charles_leclerc A little escapade before flying to Belgium. I haven’t slept in two days, can you see?

view all 7,478 comments

user13 someone teach him how to dress

user14 y/n was doing a good job user13 but then they broke up user15 THEY WHAT

user16 hold on ☝🏻 he’s in france??? in a fashion show?? as in y/n’s walking that fashion show fashion show??

user17 I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING user18 I think you’re onto something

user19 why is he wearing that to a FASHION show

user20 is it true he’s dating an italian influencer?

user21 Charles is dating @/yourusername user22 no they broke up user23 we don’t know that

user24 Y/N’S IN THE LIKES

user25 WAR IS OVER OH MY GOOOD JSHDVDHAJAA

user26 i’m in denial until someone confirms y/n and charles broke up

user27 you and me both user28 charles is attending the same fashion show she’s in. look at her stories!!

📍 PARIS, FRANCE — JUL 25, 2023

Liked by jennaortega, florencepugh and 77,480 others

voguemagazine Say hello to our @/yourusername opening this week’s #FashionShow in Paris.

comments on this post have been disabled

📍 PARIS, FRANCE — JUL 25, 2023

Liked by f1gossip_news, y/nnews, and 135,765 others

paddockgossip Alert, Alert! Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend, Y/N L/N, spotted leaving the Fashion Show Y/N walked in just a few hours ago. They’re currently in Paris, a quick ‘escapade’ as the Monégasque called it before flying all the way to Belgium for the final race before the Summer Break.

Remember that just ten days ago we were telling you how we thought things weren’t good between them and were waiting for a breakup confirmation. We were wrong! Let’s hope things are okay and we can see more of Y/N paddock’s fashion in the future. All the best for them.

view all 3,557 comments

user29 oh god no please

user30 I thought we already got rid of her

user31 i don’t like her, she doesn’t seem nice

user32 Mmh this kinda looks like PR

user33 i thought the same but idk in the pics pop crave shared they look v cozy

user34 some people feel too comfortable judging y/n just because it’s charles.

user35 like grow up girl you’re never gonna date him lol

user36 this comment section didn’t pass the vibe check

user37 charles always dates toxic people

user38 i doesn’t seem serious to me

user39 matching glasses, such a power couple

user40 i don’t like her but they look good together

user41 i hate her sm she’s everywhere 🤢

user42 if you don’t know her just search what happened between her and sebastian stan

user43 there’s a pretty long ass thread on twitter with timelines and all y’all should check it out user44 that relationship was so toxic i’m glad my boy found his way out of there user45 she has said in a lot of interviews that she regrets everything that happened between them and that they’re on good terms now user46 besides they both were so young user45 they blame her when he was the one who cheated on her a hundred times

user47 she’s ben through a lot of toxic relationships i hope this one is different

comments on this post have been disabled

TWITTER — JUL 25, 2023

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @miakat9. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @thatoneembarrasingmoment. @lyrasconstellation. @rhythmstars. @c-losur3. @apolloxxivmin. @janeholt3. @lovrsm. @gulphulp. @thecubanator2. @dark-night-sky-99. @ssprayberrythings.

note: oh my god!! hiii <3 sorry for not posting sooner but a few things happened and… well. there’s just only one chapter left! i can’t believe this is ending. like you don’t know that i had such a good time doing this smau. i’ll probably write an extra part, like a blurb or something about the conversation y/n and charles had if that’s something you’d like to read?! please let me know (it would be posted after the final chapter). 🤍

[artaxlivs]

This is ridiculous.

Eddie has important stuff To Do. He's a busy rockstar with a never ending list of stuff his manager and agent keep reminding him that he needs to get done while he's not on tour.

But. His house is being remodeled. And one of the carpenters or handymen or journey...men? journey people? whatever. One of the dudes in a tool belt. Well - he's hot as all hell and Eddie can't seem to find a single fuck to mark off that To Do list.

Every day this man shows up in jeans that hug his ass, a tool belt slung low to one side and this pristine white polo shirt with a logo over his left pec. The other people - people not men because there are actually three women in the mix, all with arms that could crush Eddie, and if he was into chicks, he'd be looking respectfully - are all in various dark colored shirts with a similar logo on the back or in the same spot on the chest.

But White Polo is the only white polo. White Polo must be in charge. He does seem to give a lot of orders. He's got big sexy hair and a strong voice. The first time Eddie was close enough to hear him talk, he had some feelings about that strong voice giving orders. The kind of feelings he explored later that night in his own bed. Alone.

It's not a mean voice though, not aggressive. Rather, it's the kind of voice that steadies you in a storm, that you can rely on. The kind of voice that probably sounds gravelly and sleep mussed on a Saturday morning. The kind you want to wake up to. The voice that Eddie wants to wake up to.

And it's not just the voice and the looks. It's the competency, too. Earlier this morning, White Polo was helping the crew put some kind of wood frame up. He hammered something in and then twirled the hammer and stuffed it in the tool belt all without looking. That was going directly to Eddie's spank bank. Maybe he could find other things for them to remodel so White Polo never has to leave.

"Mr. Munson?"

Eddie startles, almost dropping his Garfield coffee mug. There's a lot of noise in the house and he was sort of doing one of the things on his list. Writing a song in his head. It was definitely not about a man in a tool belt. Nor was it about anyone getting nailed.

Jesus Christ.

Clearing his throat, Eddie turns to White Polo, "It's just Eddie."

"Well, Just Eddie, I'm Steve." His voice is soft, strong though, with that little bit of gravel. It's not Eddie's fault at all that he's imagining him whispering in Eddie's ear when they're both sleep warm and too comfortable to get out of bed. "Looks like we'll be done here in another two days."

"Oh." He says dejectedly, not meaning to have such an honest reaction but he can't help himself. He's wasted three days just glancing at White Polo - Steve - from afar. Now Eddie's on a time limit. Two days isn't nearly enough time. Would it be inappropriate to invite him to dinner? Or to stay? Ask him for --"Coffee?"

Steve smiles and it's kind of small, like it's a secret smile, just for Eddie. Brushing his hair back over his ear, Steve says, "I shouldn't but...your coffee smells kinda great so...sure."

Grinning, Eddie tells him that he gets the beans from this little mom and pop shop that brews their own beans. The band discovered them on tour years ago and he still gets his beans shipped from them every few months. He's babbling but he can't seem to stop himself, telling Steve about different roasts and his fancy machine that cost more than his first van back when he was sixteen and living in a trailer park.

Leaning against the counter, Steve listens patiently, watching Eddie with hazel eyes and that little smile. He's got these cute moles that Eddie wants to kiss. Broad shoulders he wants to feel pressed up against the backs of his knees.

Shit. He almost spills the coffee when his face suddenly heats up at that.

"Everything okay?" There's concern in Steve's voice and he reaches out to steady Eddie's arm. His callused fingers brush Eddie's arm just over his bat tattoo and...oh.

It's like nothing he's ever imagined. So much more than all the stories. It's the biggest, brightest, most intense thing Eddie's ever felt. Just a brush of fingertips and the spots light up with gold. Three brushes across the bats' wings and a fourth smaller one off to the side. Eddie can feel the tingling on the underside of his forearm where Steve's thumb must have brushed as well.

Surging forward, Eddie cups Steve's cheek, leaving a bright gold palm print on his jaw, a thumb smear up by the cheek bone, bits of gold in the shapes of fingers curling along the side of his throat, and one little dab on the lobe of Steve's ear. Their lips are pressed together before Steve's fully reacted to the soul bond but that's okay. They don't have two days, they've got forever.

A few years later, when Corroded Coffin wins album of the year at the Grammys, Gareth takes the mic away from Eddie as he's doing all the polite thank yous to managers and agents etc - and he thanks Steve, telling the world, "If Steve had never been a hot guy in a tool belt, Eddie would never have written Golden Bats, Hammer of Love or, Eddie's favorite," Gareth says, grinning and leaning really close to the mic like it's a secret, 'cause it kind of is, "Ride the White Polo."

My Masterlist

While there are other gold touch soulmate mark fics, I've only ever read them in @kangofu-cb's Gold on Your Fingertips in the Winterhawk fandom and it will always be both one of my favorite soulmate fics and one of my favorite Clint Barton fics.

[muchosbesitos]

silly list of hc’s about cat dad! miguel to get me out of a writing slump :p (pretty sure i did it wrong 😭)

cat owner! miguel who swore he didn’t want the cat you’d found off the street, demanding for you to take it back where you found it.

“i don’t have time to deal with that cat, just take it back where you found it. quien sabe, de pronto hasta tiene pulgas,” his tone was firm as he spoke, making it clear that he wasn’t comfortable with the cat being here. “c’mon.. i’ll take care of it. you won’t even notice that she’s here. please?” you held the cat up, your puppy eyes and the cat’s pleading look melting his resolve bit by bit. “fine. but if she so much as scratches the couch, she’s out.” (who knows, it might even have fleas)

cat owner! miguel who swore he didn’t like the cat, despite the fact that he made sure not to finish his food just to leave it some leftovers.

“is something wrong with the food? you usually like to lick the plate clean,” you noted after seeing that miguel separated a bit of his food to the side of the plate. “no. i’m just saving some up for the cat so she doesn’t have to eat that kibble alone,” he explained like it should’ve been obvious. you hid the smile on your face as you noted the way that miguel called the cat over after pouring the leftovers in the bowl, his gaze intently on the cat as she ate her food like he wanted to make sure she liked it.

cat owner! miguel who fell asleep on the couch with the kitten sprawled out on his chest, hand on its back mid stroke as they both snored.

you’d thought that your eyes were deceiving you after a long day of work, that your exhaustion had affected your vision by now. you rubbed your eyes a couple times, seeing miguel sleeping comfortably with the cat after he’d claimed that it was time to start looking for a new home for her. you went over to put a blanket over them, noticing that he’d bought a collar for her with the name you were both discussing earlier that week. ‘florecita’ written on the small pendant along with his contact information. (little flower)

cat dad! miguel who finally admitted that the cat wasn’t ‘all too bad’ when you caught him putting a spider-man costume similar to his own on the cat for halloween.

“okay, maybe we shouldn’t kick her out. she’s actually pretty well behaved when it comes down to it,” he admitted, his face turned away from you as he worked out the final design on the cat. “you’re dressing her up like you?” you inquired, noticing the all too familiar red and blue design. “well yeah, she’s gonna look like the coolest cat in the neighborhood,” he told you, florecita letting out a meow like she was agreeing with him.

cat dad! miguel who was completely surprised to find out the sweet girl he’d been cuddling with when you weren’t home turned out to be a boy.

“ay florecita, you don’t know how hard it was to decide on your name just to have to change it,” he spoke to the cat while he held it in his arms, the shock starting to wear off as the two of you walked back home from the vet. “we could just call him garfield,” you suggested, since the two of you noticed that the cat always lingered at the table whenever you had lasagna. “garfield it is, mijo,” he spoke, more so to the cat as he stroked its back.

cat dad! miguel who got subjected to your relentless teasing about how reluctant he’d been to let the cat in at first.

“thought you didn’t like the cat,” you murmured, watching as miguel made a tuna cake for the cat’s first year with the two of you. “isn’t that joke starting to run its course?” he grumbled, holding the cat up to the cake as miguel blew on the candle. “just saying, you’re acting really friendly for someone who didn’t want it at first,” you replied, taking a seat at the table as miguel fed small pieces to garfield.

cat dad! miguel who can’t picture coming home without the cat being there waiting for him anymore, the comfort of being by your side and the cat’s being his motivation for every mission that he goes by.

he’d never been one for having wallpapers on his gizmo, but he’d selected one that had both of you with the cat on it. he found it to be somewhat of a lighthouse in the middle of a storm, anchoring him back home whenever he thought that he’d lost everything. whenever he thought that he had nothing to fight for anymore, the picture reminding him of two of the things that he cared about the most.

[a1307s]

Mating Season #1

(Garfield Logan Smut)

[Art is not mine! Credit to mothyx]

Requested by: Liviejc

Keys:

None

Word Count: 3653

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Biting

Scratching

Blood

Hickeys

Titty sucking

Oral (female receiving)

Breeding/pregnancy  

———————————————————————

     The sound of my boyfriend moving around the bed wakes me up. On instinct, I reach for Garfield. "You okay?" I ask, my fingertips brushing his bicep. 

     Recently Gar has been acting really weird. He's been super short tempered, to the point that Conner had to break up a fight between him and Bart earlier this week. Though, Conner thinks it was just Garfield being territorial instead of him being upset.  He might be right, Gar has been super clingy lately, so he probably misinterpreted Bart's behaviors. On the other hand, my boyfriend has been picking fights with everyone so I'm not sure what's going on with him.

     "Ya, I'm just warm," Garfield answers, moving closer so I can wrap my fingers around his arm. 

     He's right. His skin feels like it's boiling under my touch. About the time his anger picked up, his body temperature did too. "Maybe you should see a doctor," I say, propping myself up so I can look at Gar. 

     Garfield turns his head so he's facing me. His eyes are a bright green that stands out in the dark. His pupils are a bit slitted, reminding me of a cat. "I'm usually super warm, babe. You know, the whole 'animal kingdom' thing," Gar answers, trying to put my worries to rest.  

     "Ya, I know. You're just warmer than usual and you've been kind of moody. Maybe you're getting sick."

     "I'm not getting sick. I'm just a little warm."

     I sigh in defeat and lay back down. "We could turn down the heat," I offer, sliding my hand from Beasty's arm up to his hair. I softly twirl the ends around my fingers, soaking in the softness of it.

     "It's already at sixty-five. I don't want to make it too cold, you won't be comfortable then," He answers, eyes shut and soft purrs coming from him because of my petting. 

     "We could take the comforter off the bed and just sleep with the under-sheet."

     "Ya, but if you're too cold you won't be able to sleep," Garfield says again, opening his eyes to look at me. 

     "You're pretty much a personal heater at all times. If I get too cold, I'll just snuggle up closer," I answer, scooting over some to place a soft kiss on his forehead. 

     Gar doesn't answer so I pull off the comforter before laying back down. I snuggle up to him, laying my head on his chest and slinging my leg across the waist band of his pj  pants. It seems to help for a couple minutes, but not very long. Garfield starts shifting again, so I roll over to remove my body heat from him. He relaxes again, but again, it doesn't last long. 

     "I'm going to try a cold shower," he says, kissing my shoulder blade before getting out of bed.

     I hum in response but stay curled up in bed. It's silent for a second before Gar turns the shower on. After a couple minutes I start to think that maybe less clothing will help. With this thought, I reluctantly roll out of bed to change out of my long-sleeved shirt and fuzzy pj pants. By the time I'm changed - now in a sports bra and spandex - and back comfortable in bed, Gar is out of the shower. "Did it help?" I ask, sitting up in bed, causing the sheet to pool in my lap, and look towards the bathroom.

     "Ya," Beasty answers shortly, his eyes locked on me. "Did you change?" He asks, taking quick steps towards the bed. 

     "Yes, I did. I figured less clothing might help so maybe take off your shirt and pj bottoms before laying back down."

     Beasty hums, eyes still locked on me as he pulls his shirt off in one swift movement. He drops his bottoms, leaving him in his boxers as he crawls back in next to me. He lays down before wrapping his arms around me and tugging me closer. My mostly bare back is pressed against his chest. Gar's skin feels a lot cooler than earlier which brings a bit of relief to me. Maybe he was just a little warm. 

     I close my eyes and snuggle into him. I lay there, almost asleep, when Garfield starts moving his hands. They rest at my waist for a moment before sliding up my sides. It stirs me a bit, but not too much since I'm use to his wondering hands, especially when we cuddle. His hands slide from my sides, across the band of my bra before dipping down to my stomach. They rest there for a bit before sliding back up to my sides. "Are you going to sleep?" I ask, poking a bit of fun at my boyfriend.

     "Ya," Garfield says, his voice raspier than I thought it would be. "You just... feel really good on my skin," He adds, nuzzling his head into my neck.

     We're quite for a few minutes, the whole time I can feel his skin heating up again. "You should really see a doctor tomorrow," I whisper, moving my arm behind me to run my fingers through his hair. "Please?"

     "Fine," He whispers back, his arms tightening on me and pulling me closer. I can feel every inch of his scorching skin pressed up against me. Garfield shifts his head, gently pressing soft kisses against my neck. He makes a neat line down my neck and over my shoulder before working his way back up. Gar starts down again but rests against my jugular. He makes soft hums against my skin before gently sinking his teeth into me. He follows the line he made before, making soft nips along the way, but soon the nips turn into full out biting. He covers my neck and shoulder with teeth marks, sinking his teeth in as far as he can, causing a stinging sensation along his path. 

     "Hey, hey, hey," I yelp as Beasty starts to work over the bite marks again. "It hurts," I whine, trying to shrug him off.

     "I'm sorry," Gar whimpers, nipping into a pervious made mark, causing prickles of pain to overtake my nervous. "I can't help myself," He whines, running his tongue over the marks. This doesn't help the stinging. Garfield's hands slide back down from my sides, sliding between my legs to paw at them. "You smell so sweet," He bellows as his nails dig into the flesh of my thighs. 

     My heart skips, fear and arousal both rushing through me at Beasty's sudden roughness. In the past two years Gar has always been so gentle with me during everything. He's always so gentle when he intertwines his fingers with mine to avoid clawing me. Always careful not to accidently nick my lips with his canines when we kiss. Always only using feathery touches and making sure to go slow and gentle during sex. He has only ever once left a mark on me, and it tore him up for a month after. Beasty has never acted like this.

     My legs squeeze shut out of fearful instinct. "You're scaring me," I whisper, trying to pace my breathing.

     "Don't be scared," He mumbles into my ear, nipping at my ear lobe before continuing to add to the collection of teeth marks on my neck. Beasty's claws dig further into my thighs as he tries to spread them open. "Open your legs," He hisses. "Please," Garfield's voice softening for a second, sending a wave of relief through me before digging his teeth back into my flesh and starting the feeling of stinging pain all over again.  

     "Please," I whine, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. "You're hurting me, Gar."

     Garfield rolls onto his back, dragging himself away from me. In the process, he tears the skin of my neck where his teeth were buried and his claws tear into my thighs. Warm blood slowly trickles from the wounds. My legs shake a bit, but I can't tell if it's from fear or arousal... or both.

     "I'm sorry," Gar mutters, turning me to my other side so that I'm looking at him. His eyes are still slitted, like a predator looking at their prey and his jaw is clenched. "Did I hurt you?" He asks, running his fingertips across my thighs, causing the wounds to ache more. Garfield's eyes widen for a second before slitting more than before when his fingers come in contact with my blood. "I'm sorry," He repeats, wrapping his hands around my legs and pulling me onto his lap. 

     His body presses against me, my knees resting at his sides as the rest of me rests on his torso. The hold he has on my legs reminds me how defenseless I am against him. The thought makes me tingle, and this time I know it's both with fear and desire. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Garfield repeats again, his eyes flickering from my face to my chest and then my pussy, back up to my eyes. "I just... you... I need... I want... I don't know what's happening," He stumbles over his words, his eyes constantly flickering over me as his hands rub up my legs, over my sides and rest on my chest. 

     He softly paws at my chest, his eyes locked there along with his hands. Garfield lets out a sigh of frustration, squeezing my boobs a lot harder than normal. "Are you horny? It's okay if you are," I say, wrapping my hands around his wrists to try and get him to loosen his grip a bit.

     "I don't know," He answers, letting go and resting his hands against my chest for a moment. Gar's eyebrows scrunch together as he thinks, his hands picking up where they left off, but his touch is softer this time. "I just... I don't know," he says, running his thumbs under the band of my bra.

     "What are you thinking about?" I hum moving my hands from my lap where they've been to run them over Gar's chest. 

     He stays quiet. I take the silence as a chance to line his chest and shoulders with soft kisses. After a couple minutes he stops me, moving his hands from my tits to my shoulders to push me back up in a sitting position. Gar places his hands back on my boobs, squeezing them hard like before as his thumbs start to work my bra up. "Take it off," He orders, glancing at my eyes before focusing on my tits again.

     "Gar-"

     "Take. It. Off," He growls, eyes glaring into mine before snapping down again. My knees squeeze his sides as my pussy tingles at his tone. Maybe I like Beasty being aggressive. "Jesus," He mumbles, sliding the rest of his fingers to the band and ripping the sports bra off of me before tossing it to the floor. The chilliness of the room hits my nipples, causing them to start hardening. "It's been making me so angry; seeing any other dude near you, let alone talking to you," Beasty says, his hands warming my chest up.

     "Is this about my disagreement with Bart the other day?"

     Once the words are out, Garfield flips us over, his weight pushing me into the mattress. My legs are sprawled out under us, and my arms wrap around his shoulders to try and steady myself. One of Gar's knees are pushed into my cunt, the other one is being used to prop himself up some. His hands are digging into the mattress on either side of my head and his eyes are glowing as they burn into me. 

     "Say his name again. Say it again, I dare you. I don't see him being able to sense your heartbeat from ten miles away. I don't see him being able to sense your smell from six miles away. And I certainly haven't seen him dipping his head between your legs every night to help you sleep," Beasty says, digging his claws further and further into the mattress after every sentence. "Do you ask Bart to pump in and out of you when you're horny? Is Bart the one you choose to spend your life with?"

     "No," I mewl out, closing my legs around his knee.

     "Keep your legs open," He orders, ripping my legs open and shoving his nails back into the claw marks he left on me. "For the past month, every time I've seen you sparring with a guy, talking to a guy, being anywhere near a guy, all I've thought about is leaving pretty little bruises all over you so that everyone could see that I'm fucking you. I don't want too. I don't like having those thoughts but they're there. And then, ever since your pretty little body started letting off your ovulation pheromones all I've thought about is putting a baby in you. Thought about filling you up, watching you walk around with my baby in you, seeing your pregnancy waddle when your tummy gets all big and round."

     "Gar-" I start but he cuts me off by bending down and taking one of my nipples into his mouth. "H... hey," I whimper, shoving my hands into his hair. He lifts his hand to paw at the breast not in his mouth. He sucks on me for a while, most definitely leaving a bruise before switching to the other side.

     When he's satisfied with himself, Gar lifts his head up to look at me. His eyes have gone soft and are no longer the predator slits from earlier. "I'm going to leave bruises on you, okay? I'm sorry. I need to. I really really need to. I need to make you hurt. I'm sorry," His words come out almost as cries. 

     "Beasty-"

     "I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to, but I need to. I don't know. It feels like... I don't know. I'm sorry," Gar says, constantly repeating himself as he rubs my hips and nuzzles the unmarked side of my neck. "I can leave. I don't want to hurt you. It's just... in me... in my veins... I feel it, right there. Right under my skin. The need to prove I touched your body. The need to put a baby in you. I can leave if you're not comfortable." Gar murmurs the last part, running his tongue across my skin and rutting his knee against my spandex. "I need it," He whispers into my skin. 

     I can feel Garfield's tears against my skin as he holds me. I move my hands to his shoulder to softly rub them, trying to help him relax as he starts marking up my neck again. He was already rough on the other side but he's being a lot harsher this time around. By the third bite mark, I can already feel the blood tricking from the new wounds caused by him. "Beasty-"

     "I'm sorry."

     "Gar-"

     "I'm really sorry."

     "Garfield," I say a little harsher, moving my hands to his hair in order to tear his mouth off of me. "Beasty... I think you're in heat," I say, trying to ignore the increasing pressure building in my groin from the friction happening between my legs.

     "Ya, sure, whatever," he says, pulling my hand out of his hair and attaching himself to the first thing he can get his mouth on. His mouth works down my shoulder, across my collarbones and down my chest. He leaves hickies and bite marks the whole way down. 

     "Gar," I moan out, trying to get his attention but reacting to his tongue running just above the waist band of my spandex instead. "Garfield, please stop," I whimper, tugging on his hair again.

     He does listen, stopping the movement of his mouth and his knee. I'm left a bit sad from the loss of frication against my pussy, but he is just doing what I asked. "I'm sorry," he says again, his hands rubbing my inner thighs, spreading the blood that's been left there. His eyes are back to being slit but they're red and puffy now.

     "Baby," I say, softly taking his face in my heads. I force him to look at me as I rub circles on his cheeks. "I think you're in heat," I repeat, giving him a second to register what I'm saying.

     "Oh... oh! Oh, ya. That... would make a lot of sense," Beasty says, gently running his fingertips over my clothed pussy. "Though, technically it would be called 'rut' cause I'm a dude," he says, watching my legs close around his arm. "I really want to put a baby in you."

     "You... you really can't put a baby in me," I breath out, leaning my head back and shutting my eyes to soak in Gar's touch. 

     "But I really can," he says, using his free hand to pull my legs open again. Beasty dips his head down, going to leave hickies and more markings across my thighs. "Let me put a baby in you. Please?"

     "No... no baby, Beasty," I whimper, my legs starting to shake from the stimulation and the pain starting to gather from the new and old marks. 

     "Please?" He asks again, wrapping his fingers around the bottom of my spandex, starting to pull them down. Once he gets them off of me, he starts licking over the newly exposed skin, leaving my pussy untouched. 

     He teases me, running his tongue and mouth close to my cunt but not close enough to continue the stimulation I want. "Stop teasing," I beg, trying to unwrap his arms from my legs.

     "Let me put a baby in you and I'll stop teasing," Garfield comments, slowly running his tongue through my folds before lifting his head up to leave bruises along my hips. I whine, getting a retaliation of his claws digging into my legs again.  "I'm going to fill you up by the end of my mating season so you might as well let me now."

     "Gar... please... you... you can fill me up all you want after... after my ovulation, okay? Stop teasing. You're bruising every... every inch of my skin. The least you can do is... is make me feel good." 

     He hums, thinking over my words for a second before ducking in between my thighs. His tongue slithers over my clit a couple times before he latches on it. The feeling mixed with the sound of Garfield suckling on me fills my head. My fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his head further as I grind against his tongue. 

     Beasty continues for a few minutes until I come unraveled on his tongue. He stays down there, slurping up my juices before popping his head up to look at me. "I want to cum in you," he says, wiggling two of his fingers into me. 

     "You can't," I say, shifting around to try and get his fingers deeper in me. 

     "Please? We can get the Morning After Pill tomorrow," he says, pretty much begging before he sinks his teeth into my stomach to mark me up even more.

     "Fine... fine...," I mumble, using his hair to pull him up my body. 

     He smiles up at me, nipping at my breasts as he pulls his dick out of his boxers. "Say it," Gar orders, poking his tip in and out of me. 

     "What?" I ask, digging my nails into his back as I try to pull him forward so I can feel more of him in me.

     "Say you want me to fill your pussy," Beasty says, working his way from my breasts back up to my neck. "Say you want me to try to put a baby in you."

     "Please fuck me, Garfield. Please fill my pussy," I whine, finally winning at my tug-of-war. Gar sinks into me, wasting no time to bottom out. 

     "Good," He murmurs against my skin, bring his hands up my body to pin my wrists down. His thrusts are fast, and hard, the complete opposite of what I'm use too. It doesn't take many thrusts before my hips start to hurt. "I'm going to put a baby in you," Gar whispers into my ear, his claws digging into me as he recks my hips. "You're going to get a nice big belly and a cute little waddle. Your titties are going to swell up and get big and heavy. Then, as soon as possible, I'll fuck another baby into you.  Over and over again until I give you a nice big litter."

     "I don't want a baby," I whine, trying to pull my wrists out from his grasp. 

     I can feel Gar's smile against my ear. "I know baby... I know... It'll be okay." I whine from under him, wrapping my legs around his waist as his thrusts get sloppy. As I'm getting closer, the walls of my cunt tighten around him, not helping the sloppiness he's already experiencing. "For someone that doesn't want a baby, your pussy is trying awfully hard to milk me," He teases, sinking his teeth into my neck again. Beasty thrusts a couple more times before he buries himself in me as deep as possible. His teeth dig deeper, breaking my skin again, as he bottoms out.

     Garfield slumps over, laying on top of me as he falls off his high. His hands are heavy as they slip on to my hips. Our bodies stick together from a mix of sweat and cum. The room is quiet for a couple minutes, nothing but our heavy breathing to fill the room. "I'm going to fuck you again," Beasty says, slipping his hands down my legs to wrap them around his torso again. 

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[waynes-multiverse]

Love On The Brain

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Dean and Y/N – hunting partners, bunker roommates & idiots in love. Sam is fed up with their constant “will they/won’t they” bullshit and decides to move things along with his own plan until these two fated lovers’ paths finally cross one night – naked.

Warnings: +18, smut (mentions of masturbation f & m, oral f, fingering, p in v), crack of the adorkable kind, nudity, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Happy V-Day, babes! 💖 The V stands for... Welp, you know me well enough by now to know where I’m going with this 😝 This is a lot of moronic crack mixed with some sweet smut and fluff. We all know how much I love the “idiots in love” trope, and I fully dove into this one. So, grab your glass of favorite liquor & let’s settle in, shall we? ❤️😘 Written for a request by @imagine-all-the-fandoms after making some adjustments. Found Rihanna’s Love on the Brain fitting for this one, so that’s what we went with as a general mood. Hope you enjoy, m’ladies! 🖤

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

Freedom! Thank fucking God…

Y/N exhales a blissful sigh as she saunters to the Dean Cave with a bag of still-hot microwave popcorn in her arms. The Winchester brothers have decided on a little overnight road trip to the next, bigger town over to see a movie – and for some brotherly bonding or whatever – which means Y/N can finally enjoy some goddamn alone time in the bunker. Not that she doesn’t love Sam and Dean to bits and pieces, especially the latter one. They are like family to her, the only one she’s ever truly known, but even family can grow exhausting sometimes.

Living with two boys can grow exhausting, honestly, so Y/N has decided to spend her alone time doing a bunch of girly shit she can’t do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum around – at least not without enduring some judgmental looks.

So, first on the agenda? Watching a bunch of chick flicks, aka any movie the oldest Winchester wouldn’t approve of. Mean Girls, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, You’ve Got Mail, and so on – you get the gist.

The second order of business is a long-ass bathroom time for a little much-needed self-care, including a hot and relaxing bath with an abundance of pink bubbles and soap that smells like the goddamn Queen’s flower garden. Then she’s going to shave and wax… everything. Admittedly, things got a little hairy in recent weeks. There wasn’t a lot of time between hunts and sharing close quarters with two men in motel rooms, and every time she did attempt a proper shave, Dean would yell outside the bathroom door, needing to pee or God knows what else, so she dropped the razor again. Honestly, it’s not like she’s being followed around by an array of suitors these days. It’s been months since anyone has seen her private parts or even her bare legs, including her. On the upside, at least her vibrator doesn’t mind the extra locks.

Oh God, she’s fucking sad, isn’t she? Yeah… It’s a sad affair all around, really.

Regardless, the mention of some self-love reminds her of her third to-do item on her list: sex. Well, technically masturbating to Ryan Gosling’s pictures. Maybe even Andrew Garfield, Sebastian Stan, that hot dude Jackson from Grey’s Anatomy… Leo in his prime. Brad Pitt – young and old. Seth Rogen… Whoa! Don’t judge, okay? It’s not all about looks. She loves when a guy can make her laugh, and his laugh is so sweet, deep, and… bear-y, alright?

Yeah, fine, she knows she needs to get fucked properly by a real dick instead of a fictional one – rather sooner than later before she goes for… the dick that’s been living right under the same roof, only three doors down from her own bedroom.

Shit.

Yep, Dean fucking Winchester – God of all Gods, monster hunter extraordinaire, hero of all innocent damsels, and idiotic clown of all clowns, shamelessly stole her heart since… well, pretty much the minute they met and she first laid eyes on him. It felt like being blinded by the sun, the golden freckles on his cheeks and nose resembling the twinkling, starry constellations in the night sky. In an instant, she was an unsuspecting, innocent moth to a blazing flame. How could she possibly resist that irresistible, boyish charm? There’s no vaccine against that green-eyed virus. She swears she’s seen women faint and gasp before him, and she certainly isn’t immune, either. No one truly is, not even other men, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately, Dean will never ever look at her in that way and see more than a friend in her. The thought alone is so ridiculous it makes her snort before she starts to uncontrollably sob and whine. But God, does she wish more than anything he could be hers and she could be his.

Admittedly, she feels a little lonely, especially with the ominous Valentine’s Day looming around the corner, or as Dean likes to call it – unattached drifter Christmas.

Dear fucking God, why did she have to fall in love with that dork? Why can’t it be some nice, normal guy without an abundance of commitment issues?

On the other hand, it’s a good thing the oldest Winchester isn’t here tonight, even though he’d probably love the fourth part of her evening: naturism.

Yup, walking around naked while you’re alone is the best fucking thing in the world and so goddamn freeing. Tits out. Let the ladies breathe a little, you know? Having the girls constantly locked up in bra prison is no way to go through life. And Y/N knows for sure Dean would not only agree with that sentiment but also highly support it. After all, he was the one that suggested Naked Tuesdays when she first moved in. Sam then established a rule that the oldest Winchester wasn’t allowed to “sexually harass” her. It was completely unnecessary but sweet nonetheless. Y/N knows Dean’s just a teasing goofball 99% of the time and would never seriously harm her or make her feel uncomfortable. In fact, she loves that the brothers are always looking out for her and have her best interest in mind.

So, as soon as she hears the big metal door of the bunker slam shut, Y/N excitedly begins her girl’s night alone, trying not to think too much about the green-eyed hunter and focusing on Gosling on the silver screen instead.

“So, this movie… is it like Zombieland?” Dean inquires with a wide grin, wiggling his eyebrows as he grabs a couple of beers and snacks from the fridge for their road trip to Wichita.

Sam’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? Dean, no… It’s not an action movie or a comedy. It’s an environmental documentary about how soil can counteract the climate crisis,” the younger Winchester explains, chuckling in amusement.

Dean’s face drops, his features morphing from excitement to shock as his eyes blink in rapid succession. “What?! But you said Woody Harrelson is in it! You lied to me!”

“Nooo,” Sam laughs, shaking his head, and corrects, “I said Woody Harrelson narrates it. It’s a good documentary. Trust me.”

“Fuck no! I don’t wanna watch a movie about dirt,” the older brother whines, his plump lips shaping into a pout. “Can’t we go see something with action and blood and guns? You know, something fun?”

“Dean, our whole life is action, blood, and guns. Would do you some good to care about the Earth and climate every once in a while,” Sam lectures him.

“Screw that! We’ve already saved the planet multiple times. All that Al Gore shit ain’t my problem,” Dean huffs, pops open a beer and takes a sip. “‘Sides, I don’t trust these environmental clowns. I know the first thing they’d wanna do is get rid of Baby, and then I swear I’m gonna start shootin’. I can’t stand for that insanity.”

“Fine,” Sam frowns and lets out a resigned sigh. “Then I guess you’ll have to stay here because I wanna watch that movie.”

“Fine by me,” Dean agrees with another sip of beer.

“Good. Since you’re not coming, I might even check out the Mid-America Fine Arts Museum,” Sam shares, the excitement gleaming in his hazel orbs.

“Yeah, nerd yourself out, little brother,” Dean snorts. “Did you know Wichita has a Pizza Hut Museum?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, you tell me that every time we go to Wichita, Dean,” Sam reminds him and suppresses the laugh. “Well, uh, have fun alone with Y/N then,” he smirks slyly, and Dean’s short-lived relief disappears as realization dawns, his brow knitting. “Who knows? Might even be a good opportunity for you to tell her you’re madly in love with her.”

“Wha-, uh, pffft, no?” Dean brushes his little brother’s lunatic accusations off the kitchen counter and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, clearing the fluster in his throat. “Dude, are you drunk? I’m so not in love with her, alright? Don’t be ridiculous, okay? Do I find her incredibly hot, smart, sweet, brave, kind, adorable, and funny? Sure… That’s why she’s our friend, right? But that doesn’t mean I like… love “love” her, okay? At least not like that.” He forms sarcastic air quotes around the cursed word and grimly swallows his uncomfortableness and the lies down with a big gulp of beer. “And for crying out loud, keep your voice down when you say shit like that. I don’t want her to hear us,” he hisses, his green orbs nervously eyeing the kitchen door. “It’s echo-y in here, you know?”

“Sure, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam casually shrugs his shoulders, clearly not buying a single one of the green-eyed hunter’s words, and it only annoys the older Winchester more.

“Don’t-… Nuh-uh, don’t gimme that fake ‘whatever you say’ bullshit shtick. There’s really nothing going on, alright?” Dean assures anew, growing more irritated by the minute.

Sam twitches his shoulders once more and then cockily folds his arms over his chest, a teasing smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, so you won’t mind if I set her up with Matt, right? It’s just-… She seems a little lonely lately.”

“Lonely?” Dean arches an eyebrow in apprehension and scoffs, “She’s fine, Sam. She’s got us.”

Sam frowns for what feels like the hundredth time during this conversation. “Dean, you honestly don’t think that’s enough for her.”

“Why not?” The older Winchester shrugs, refusing to see clearly. “It’s enough for me. Our life is awesome. You don’t see me complaining.”

“Yes, you’re obviously the golden standard for healthy relationships,” Sam mutters sarcastically and rolls his eyes back.

Dean purses and smacks his plump lips, scratching the bit of scruff on his throat. “Well, uh… shut up, okay? And don’t set her up with Matt. The guy’s a douche.”

“Alright, what about Josh? You like Josh,” Sam suggests next.

“Yeah, as a hunting partner, he’s alright, not as a boy toy for our friend, Sam,” Dean grits bitterly and rolls his eyes, chugging the rest of his beer. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re not her pimp. Just leave her alone, alright?”  

“Look, if you don’t wanna date her – fine. That’s on you. Just don’t stand in the way of her happiness because you can’t stop self-sabotaging yourself, man,” Sam argues with a judgmentally raised brow.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Dean grumbles, the offense clearly written in every deep wrinkle on his face.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam deadpans and grabs his laptop bag, making his way out of the kitchen.

“Stop saying that!”

“Look, I’d love to discuss all your weird issues in detail with you, but I still have to pick up Eileen on my way to Wichita,” Sam notes nonchalantly as Dean trails behind him through the bunker’s corridors. “I’ve watched you two beat around the bush for years. It’s getting annoying. You guys are worse than Ross and Rachel.”

“Wait, Eileen? Did you plan all of this on purpose? Were you trying to trick me?” Dean’s voice rises with his exasperation. He hates when Sam puts his nose where it doesn’t belong, mainly in his business. It’s the typical little brother shit he had to deal with all his life. Siblings, man…

“Me? No, I would never,” his younger brother replies with feigned innocence, marching up the metal stairs to the exit, but Dean can hear the goddamn deceit in his words.

“I don’t believe you,” Dean grits with a sternly creased brow, narrowing his juniper eyes at his younger brother as he halts at the bottom of the steps.

“Okay, whatever you say, Dean,” Sam grins complacently and opens the door. “Just don’t be an idiot. Make the first move, alright? That’s all you need to do. Trust me. It’s gonna be fine. She likes you, too.”

With that, the youngest Winchester closes the door behind him, leaving Dean to ruminate in his convoluted misery.

The hunter then stomps through the hallways of the bunker, furiously mumbling to himself as he passes the Dean Cave on his way to his room. Hearing sounds coming from inside, he stops by the cracked door for a moment and realizes Y/N is watching a movie in there. He considers joining her before recognizing Gosling’s voice, a deep sigh leaving his lips. Of course, she’s watching chick flicks again, so he decides against his plan, knowing some silly rom-com could potentially be a slippery slope and lead to some dangerous innuendos.

He downright refuses to play into his little brother’s evil scheme. Sam’s not goddamn Lindsay Lohan, and this isn’t the fucking Parent Trap. It’s better and safer if Dean stays far away from Y/N for the entirety of Sam’s absence, so the hunter quietly retreats to his room.

Dean decided to watch a bunch of his favorite horror movies until late into the night, ignoring the boiling feelings under the surface. He then closes his laptop with a heavy sigh, ready to call it a night after a nice, warm shower.

With headphones on and some classic rock music drowning out his hammering thoughts, he takes off his clothes and wraps a towel around himself. During an earlier snack run to the kitchen, he noticed the Dean Cave had already been deserted, the room quiet and dark. Y/N luckily has withdrawn to her own room again, so he knows he won’t accidentally run into her. She still hasn’t left his mind, his head in a constant swirl since his stupid conversation with Sam.

So, naturally, Dean comes to the conclusion that only some self-completion down the shower drain might help to clear his thoughts and flush the huntress out of his mind for good. He’s not proud of it, but it’s certainly not the first time since he’s known her that he thinks about her while jerking off. Usually, it only happens when he has to spend too many nights in a row with her in a small motel room without a way to escape, but this time, though, he fully blames Sam and his big mouth for it.

Wandering down the hall to the bathroom, his head bobs to the rhythm of the music flowing through his ears, his green eyes fixed on his phone screen as he scrolls through his playlist. Mindlessly opening the door, he suddenly freezes as another body bumps straight into him.

It all happens pretty fast from there. There’s a loud, high-pitched shriek that filters through the music, his hand drops his phone, and his headphones fall down with it, severing the connection and leaving him in silence as his palms catch a taut-skinned body in his arms while the towel around his waist glides to the tiled floor. And then, he just stares into two big and shocked pupils, which are probably as wide as his own.

Fuck…

For a second, Dean feels incredibly exposed before noticing the warm skin that’s pressed flush against his own body. Yep, he doesn’t dare to check, but he’s certain Y/N’s completely naked, too.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…,” Y/N’s panicked voice chimes in his ears as both of them awkwardly avert their gazes in different directions to the ceiling and avoid eye contact at all costs while still clinging tightly onto each other, aware that if one of them moves, it’s game over and they’d see each other in their full glory. Basically, they’re each other’s damn shields – as uncomfortable as that may be. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“I, uh…” That’s when Dean realizes Y/N probably didn’t even know he stayed behind and let Sam go to Wichita alone. “Sam wanted to watch a documentary.”

“I know!” Y/N yells in annoyance and grits, “You were supposed to go with him! Granted, I was surprised you agreed to it in the first place, but still, you’re not supposed to be home!”

“He didn’t tell me it was a documentary about dirt, alright? Otherwise, it would’ve been a straight-up ‘no’ from the start,” Dean explains and tries not to get hard as he feels Y/N’s tits press against his chest. Judging by the precise feeling that’s poking him, she must be somewhat cold.

“Yes, he did! I was right there when you agreed,” Y/N argues. “He talked about it for over an hour.”

“Oh,” Dean stumps and clears his throat rather awkwardly. Who could blame him for not listening, huh?

“You never listen to people! It’s so goddamn annoying!”

“Y/N, you need to stop talking, sweetheart,” Dean begs her, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrates on anything else for dear life.

Baseball, Sam drinking green smoothies, a scratch on Baby’s new coat of paint… He attempts to distract his mind from the unavoidable, but it’s no use. The skin-on-skin contact is his final nail in the coffin.

“Oh, I’m sure you would love that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N continues in a furious huff, “It’s not always about you–”

“Y/N, please… All that angry shaking isn’t helping, sweetheart.”

The huntress cocks an eyebrow high, almost reaching the messy bun on top of her head. “Helping with what?”

“Uhm…”

And that’s when he can’t control it any longer. There’s a distinctive twitch against her thigh, and he’s sure she’s felt it, too. Shit, shit, shit…

“Oooooh.” Y/N awkwardly presses her lips into a thin line, her fingertips tapping a nervous melody on his skin. Her single utterance makes his heart stop. It’s game over. She’s going to call him a gross perv, move out of the bunker, and then never speak to him again. “It’s-, uhm, it’s okay,” she says surprisingly, her head bobbing with a thick swallow as she reassuringly squeezes his biceps where her palms rest.

“Y/N, I’m-, uh… oh God… I’m so, so sorry,” he stammers, deciding to keep his eyes shut to escape some of the awkwardness.

“I-, no, it’s not-… This is a weird situation we’re in… It’s fine. Completely normal, right? Like, uhm, like a reflex?”

“Uh, yeah, guess so,” Dean gulps, his eyelids slowly fluttering open and gaze drifting back to the ceiling. It’s not a goddamn reflex, though. It’s all her. It’s the effect she has on him.

“We should, uh, probably, uhm, detangle…”

“Uh-huh, yup, nope, agree,” he says and clears his throat once more, hoping the fluster will leave his body soon. “You, uh, wanna bend down, and we both can grab our towels?”

Fuck, it’ll probably be awkward between them for months now. They’ll avoid each other during breakfast, lunch, dinner… They’ll stop watching movies together, Sam will have to be their buffer and hate it, and they probably won’t look directly into each other’s eyes till Christmas – and it’s only fucking February.

“Oh, uhm… I actually, technically didn’t, uh, come with a towel?”

His eyebrow twitches upward, head slightly tilting to the side as he thinks about her words. “Oh, uh… Wait… Were you, uhm, walking around like… naked through the bunker?”

Well, there’s an image Dean’s never gonna get out of his head. Now, he’ll forever wonder if she takes off her clothes as soon as he walks out the door.

“Look, I thought I was alone, okay?! Again – you’re not actually supposed to be here! Don’t judge me!” Y/N defends, the panic returning to her voice, and then adds something in an almost inaudible mumble, “Just wanted to let the girls breathe a little. Sue me…”

“What?” His head tilts some more, the fine creases on his brow deepening.

“Nothing… never mind,” she quickly splutters, her cheeks flushing bright red as she visibly swallows.

Dean snorts. He’s in love with a dork, isn’t he? God, she’s adorable.

And then, it fucking happens again. Dammit…

“Was that…”

“Again – I’m so, so sorry,” he apologizes once more, although he’s sure he can’t do it often enough. His dick is an escaped zoo animal and clearly on the prowl tonight.

“No, uh… So how do you wanna do this? We could, uhm, maybe turn 180 and then close our eyes and let go… I could, uhm, run really fast down the hall, and you could just quickly back into the bathro–”

Y/N doesn’t get to finish laying out her plan. Dean’s lips on hers stop any further words from spilling out of her mouth. The featherlight kiss doesn’t last longer than a painfully anxious second, his mind racing a mile a minute, his brain positively fried.

What the hell is he fucking doing? There’s only one rule in the bunker: don’t sexually harass Y/N. Dean’s pretty damn sure he’s breaking that rule right now and crossing too many goddamn lines. How’s he supposed to ever recover from this?

“What, uh…” Y/N’s speechless, every muscle frozen stiff in his embrace. Her eyebrows draw up and reach her hairline, eyes blown wide in shock. “Or that… you could do that…”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Dean groans in defeat and shame, hoping the Earth opens up and takes him straight to the burning fires of Hell. See? There aren’t enough apologies in this world to make up for his stupidity. “You know, this is all Sam’s fault… He just got into my head… I mean, this is obviously the wrong first move… I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just have a, you know, teeny-tiny crush on you, but still, this is obviously inappropriate.”

“You-, uhm, you have a crush on me?”

Dean swallows the hard lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah… Yeah, I do,” he admits bravely. “But don’t worry about it, okay? It’s just a temporary thing, alright?”

Y/N nods slightly in understanding. “For how long have you felt this way?”

“Well, uhm, like I said – not that long… Just a very short period of time… Like, since November 29th… 2012,” he gulps and shrugs sheepishly, watching her brow furrow in confusion.

“But… that’s the day we met,” Y/N points out.

Dean chuckles uncomfortably and rebuffs her concerns. “Is it? No…,” he rasps. “Well, uhm, anyways, that doesn’t change anything. Don’t worry, alright? No need to make this weird. I’m sure if we give it a couple more years, I’ll be completely over you.”

Y/N’s head bobs again, her lips pursing. “Okay, uhm… But what if you, uh, you know, maybe get over me in the literal sense… and I could get under you?”

The gears in his head start turning as he musingly squints his pine green eyes at her and studies her features. She seems nervous. There’s a bite of her lower lip and a light swallow in her throat, her pupils flickering insecurely. “Uhm, well… is that something you would like? I mean, to get-, uh, would you wanna get under me?”

“Uhm… yes? Yeah?” She looks up at him and meets his gaze, their eyes fully connecting for the first time since they have catapulted themselves into this mortifying situation.

“Is that a question?” Dean checks and chuckles lightly. “Because you kinda need to be sure about this, y’know?”

Another swallow and Y/N nods, determination gleaming in her eyes. He feels her weight shift forward, her feet rising on tip-toes as her palms move from his upper arms to the back of his neck. Her soft, pillowy lips catch his, a tender touch as their mouths carefully mold together. She sucks on his upper lip, nibbles on the bottom one before he feels the tip of her tongue lick between. He opens his mouth wider, lets her slip inside.

Dean’s hands then begin to travel, his confidence growing as Y/N’s fingers tug slightly on the short strands of hair in the nape of his neck, trying to draw him closer. One large hand cups her neck, the other one smoothing down her spine and pressing into the small of her back. He pushes her closer, deepens the kiss, and both of them moan needily while their tongues dance with each other. His grip on her becomes stronger, their bodies melting into one. Y/N gasps into his mouth, her hips pushing against his, skin on skin, as her bare pussy brushes his bulging dick.

“Shit…,” Dean mutters breathlessly against her lips, and Y/N breaks the kiss and meets his eyes with a hint of a smile.

Her lips are red and glistening, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. He cups her blushed cheek, thumb ghosting over the kiss-swollen flesh of her bottom lip as he mirrors her soft smile.

“You okay?” Y/N checks, giggling slightly.

Dean chuckles, palm still caressing her cheek. “Yeah, uh, just realized we’re incredibly naked.”

She snorts and nods, “Yeah, guess that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, huh?”

“Definitely not,” Dean agrees and laughs a little, his cheeks blushing with bashfulness. “But, look, we don’t have to do anything tonight, alright? We can take it slow.”

Y/N thoughtfully chews on her lip, her dimples showing a smile before she shakes her head. “No, I think we’ve been taking things slow for long enough.”

Dean’s face breaks into a grin before he pulls her back to his lips for a searing kiss. Y/N’s hands lock around his neck, allowing him to lift her up, and her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His hand weaves into her hair, still damp in the back of her neck from her bath, as the scent of her delicious body wash and lotion seep into his nostrils with each intake of air.

“You smell nice,” he notes, his mouth trailing along her jawline and down her throat, leaving wet kisses in his wake as he sucks her pulse point black and blue. “Like a flower garden…”

Y/N giggles, the cute sound in his ears causing his heart to flutter. She clasps his jaw and draws his attention back to her face, nuzzling her nose against his, whispering, “Bedroom. Need you inside me…”

“Jesus, Y/N… Going in for the kill, huh? You can’t say stuff like that to a man in a compromising position,” he jokes, making her laugh more. “Okay, hold on, sweetheart. You ready?”

She confirms it with a nod, and Dean adjusts his grip on her body, grabbing her a little tighter before bolting down the bunker hallway like a little kid on Christmas morning. The huntress squeals and giggles in his arms as he kicks the door open to his bedroom, gently laying her down on the mattress. She lets herself fall back and stretches out on the bed, her shoulder blades indenting the memory foam, and he hopes the thing does as advertised and fucking remembers her forever.

“You’re fast,” Y/N teases him as he quickly makes his way on top of her.

Dean chuckles, placing soft kisses on her lips in between his laughs. “Yeah, well, I’d run a mile just to get a taste of you, sweetheart. But don’t worry – not all of it will be this fast, alright?”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would be,” she giggles and licks her lips. “Can you just do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweetheart,” Dean assures her and lovingly brushes her hair behind her ears.

“Just judging by, uhm, size-,” she interrupts her sentence for a giggle, and he joins in. She’s so fucking cute. “Can you go slow?”

“Oh, trust me. I would’ve taken my time either way, but tell you what – I’ll even do you one better,” he says. His fingers then slide up her arm, along her collarbone and down to one breast. She shivers underneath him, her skin breaking into delicate goosebumps, soon soothed by his warm lips. His thumb brushes her bud, plays with it until it hardens and then alleviates the sensation with his hot breath and wet tongue.

“Fuuuuck,” Y/N sighs blissfully, her toes curling as a smile shapes on her lips, fully relaxing under his care. “Feels so good, De.”

His chuckle vibrates against her ribcage, his mouth traveling down her upper body, his kisses not missing an inch of smooth skin. Every rib, every beauty mark, every freckle gets the attention they deserve, even teasingly dipping his tongue into her navel. The last tender kiss is placed on her mound as he moves between her legs and spreads her thighs a little wider.

A smirk forms on his face as he leers at her pussy, bright pink and already glistening with her arousal. He catches her watchful gaze, sees a bit of insecurity shimmering in it as she nibbles her fingernails and bottom lip almost bloody, so he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows and sends her a wink, causing her to giggle and roll her eyes at his antics before she lets herself fall back into the mattress with a calming, deep breath.

Licking his thumb pad, he presses it against her sensitive nub, her thighs jolting for a second at the initial touch as a hiss escapes her throat, followed shortly by a strangled whimper. Y/N’s hands fist the bedsheet a little tighter, her knuckles turning white, every muscle wired to the nth degree. Her chest heaves frantically as her breathing grows more erratic with each little circle of his digit. His index finger then stretches and reaches her dripping entrance, rubbing at the tight ring before he easily pushes inside and curls it, poking the spongey spot.

“Fuck, Dean…,” she manages to croak out, biting down on her tongue.

Dean only chuckles, a giddy feeling spreading in his stomach and loving how responsive she is to his touches. There’s a loud whimper when he kisses her pussy lips, tongue dipping between and giving her clit a kitten lick, distracting her enough to shove his middle finger inside her cunt as well, scissoring them once he’s knuckles-deep.

“Oh God… shit,” she groans and whines above him.

He laughs lightly and curiously observes the torment on her face. “Wanna cum, huh?”

“Dean, I swear… I-… please,” she begs, her initial threat morphing into a soft plea for mercy.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assures her amusedly and swiftly presses his mouth back on her pussy, sucking her sensitive bundle of nerves between his plump lips and thrusting his digits harder and faster inside her. It only takes three, four pushes and one skilled suck before she convulses, trembles, and soaks his face and fingers in her juices. He groans at the sweet taste of her on his tongue, his cock twitches gleefully between his bow legs, only too eager to slide in next.

“Oh God! Fuck… shit… D-Dean!”

The green-eyed hunter grins broadly up at her, his face almost split in half as he bathes in her blissed-out expression and the rosy cheeks that accompany it.

“Wow,” she breathes and shakily catches his swollen and wet lips as he comes back up to her eye level, propping his arms up on the sides of her head.

“I think you’re ready for the big gun now,” he laughs and places a loving kiss on the tip of her nose and another one on her forehead.

“Uh-huh, I’m not so sure after this,” she giggles, still catching her breath. She cups his jaw, kisses him deeply, and licks her arousal from his pillowy lips. “You’re… amazing.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he winks, the softness of his smile contrasting his cockiness. “Do we, uhm, need–”

Y/N shakes her head, anticipating his question. “No, uh, I’m on the pill. I just need you.”

With a smile, he nods and ducks his head, entangling her in a blazing kiss as he devours her lips. His hand pushes between their heated bodies, fisting his achingly hard cock before he threads his dickhead through her folds, coats it with her slick before it catches at her entrance. His thick and leaking tip pushes inside, slowly entering her drenched cunt inch by inch till he’s buried deep and touches her cervix, stretching her tight walls around his impressive girth and hearing her little gasps of sheer pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps at the feeling of her pussy enveloping his cock and gently brushes her hair out of her face, kissing her deeply. “Taking me so well… Such a good girl f’me.”

“God, you feel like heaven,” she whimpers and wraps her arms around his neck.

As he languidly pulls out to the tip, he kisses down her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. His hand wraps around one of hers, pinning it above her head to the mattress, fingers tightly interlocking before he thrusts back into her heat. His hips then work up a rhythm, a slow and soft song, as he fucks her deep and slams home harder at just the right spot.  

Her second orgasm builds slowly yet deeply, aiming to shatter her from within as she hears the ticking of a bomb in every muscle of her body, counting down the seconds before a massive explosion. She moans loudly as the earth-shattering climax hits her at full force, booming and wild as she curses his name over and over.

His fingers grip hers tighter, his thrusts growing sloppy as he lazily fucks her, her pulsating walls clenching around his firm cock. His hips begin to stutter, broad shoulders quaking as he spills deep inside her and stills. He grunts, her name falling from his lips, loud, strained, and primal when he cums, painting her walls with his milky seed.

“Wow,” Dean repeats her earlier sentiment, her giggle causing his heart to soar higher than the moon in the sky. “You okay?”

A wide smile spreads across her face, a tired nod moving her head. “Yeah, more than okay,” she assures him and seeks out his lips.

Dean places one last kiss on her hairline before removing his limp and drenched dick from her center, rolling to his side and pulling her onto his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around her frame. “Hey, Y/N?”

She wearily lifts her heavy head to meet his green eyes. “Hm?”

“Were you, uhm, lonely?” Dean asks, his fingertips drawing tender patterns on her back.

“I guess… a little, yeah,” she admits. “Why?”

He kisses her forehead and pulls her closer. “Nothing. Just… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You wanna move into my room?”

Y/N’s beam is blinding, her cheeks blushing brightly pink. “Yeah, I’d love that,” she replies and snuggles back into his chest.

Dean then notices her eyes falling shut, losing the battle against sleep as her breathing calms in his embrace, his own mind following her into dreamland soon after.

In the morning, Y/N and Dean are still soundly asleep, entangled in sheets and limbs, when there are a few abrupt knocks on the door before it pops open to its full extent, the youngest Winchester’s voice drowning in from the hall.

“Hey, Dean? I’m back! Look, I figured we could talk. I’m sorry about yesterd–… ay… Whoa!”

“Wha-!” Y/N jolts up from the bed at the unexpected intrusion, her elbow hitting Dean straight in the face as he rises behind her. The force of the blow knocks him out of bed, the hunter tumbling to the cold ground.

Y/N clasps her palm over her mouth, staring at Sam’s shocked expression, their eyes both wide before she glances over her shoulder to her lover on the ground.

“Ow! Jesus…”

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Sam,” the huntress smiles awkwardly at the younger Winchester, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders as she hides her naked body underneath the sheets. “Good morning. How-, uh, how was the documentary?”

“Uhm, good?” Sam doesn’t look any less freaked out by what his hazel eyes are witnessing, though.

Dean groans behind her, rubbing a palm over his aching face before sending his little brother a lazy grin. “Hiya, Sammy.”

Sam then lets out a long sigh through his nose and mutters, “About damn time…”

“Yeah, about that, little brother… Might call Eileen and book yourself a room for at least a week somewhere,” Dean tells him, smirking.

Sam’s brow furrows, “What? Why?”

“Oh, because I’m gonna rail Y/N in every room we have,” Dean explains casually, watching Sam’s eyes widen.

“Oh?” Y/N sends her boyfriend an intrigued look, which he responds to with a sly wiggle of his eyebrows and a wink. “Even the dungeon? Are you, like, gonna tie me up and stuff?”

Dean’s eyes look at her lovingly, causing her cheeks to flush with heat. “Where have you been all my life, sweetheart?”

“Oh God, what have I done…,” Sam groans with a thick swallow.

PHEW! And we’re done with one shot week, babes! 😮‍💨 I honestly hadn’t planned this but found some inspiration over the weekend and finished some WIPs, and since they were all about different kinds of love, I figured they were perfect for Valentine’s Day 💖

Hope you enjoyed these various journeys, and if you did, please consider telling me here and leaving me with some kind words 🥰 Now excuse me while I go work on a few Soldier Boy one shots. I’ve missed my toxic Ben-Ben. Read you soon, babes! 😝🖤

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @avanatural​

Dean Tags: @parinarain​ @hobby27​ @fromcaintodean​

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE! TEEN TITANS x YAE MIKO / KITTY CHESIRE ! READER SHORT STORY

the kitty chesire bit is mostly her power to disappear and teleport + love for chaos

as always reader is gender neutral!

[sequel to this fic]

“YOU. . . HAVE A FOX FORM ? !”

Your team member, Garfield, shouted into your ear as you untied him and the rest of the members after a battle you won.

Via tricking them of course. You were meant for stealth and illusions, not fighting. Most missions with the Titans had you as a scout or back-up. Rarely were you in the heat of the fight.

It was mostly due to your penchant with being a liability. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, placing you with the main group was a recipe for disaster.

It was a perfect role for you. Cause really, who enjoys sitting back and watching everything unfold? You did.

And after watching your friends getting their asses handed to them and laughing for several minutes while invisible (so that they could definitely hear you but you wouldn’t get captured). You came in to save the day.

“Oh, how could you not know BB. I thought we were friends!” You sighed dramatically while finally untying the last member and leader, Robin.

Despite your close proximity, you fail to notice the rare grin on his face.

“Hey, that’s my line! How could you not tell your best friend, huh?!”

“To be fair, it should have been obvious.” Rachel commented. Her cape had gotten covered in some unknown goop, so her voice came out strained as she tried flicking it off.

“Yeah, Garfield. Kitsune, Fox. It’s hard not to know about it.” Jaime added. The scarab on his back’s eyes glow red in agreement.

“I feel wounded, hurt, unimaginable pained—“ Garfield grasped his chest. “But you know what would make me feel b-“

“In your dreams.” You quickly answered. Already knowing what he’ll request. It wasn’t as if you didn’t like turning into your fox form. But you had a plan,

and that plan was chaos.

“I didn’t even finish!”

“Give or take another hundred years or so, then it’ll be a maybe.”

“But- But why—?”

“My kitsune form is not a party trick or just something that can be shown at a whim. It has to be special, as is the person I show it to.”

“Wait, so that’s why you didn’t show me? I thought it was cause you couldn’t do it for another hundred years or so.” Rachel perked up as soon as she heard your words. The remaining goop on her cape forgotten.

“I thought it was because only humans or other beings from Earth could witness it.” Kori crossed her arms.

“You mean it isn’t dangerous for you to turn into one in case you aren’t able to turn back?!” Dick, Jaime, and Victor all screeched in unison.

“Excuses may vary from person to person.”

“[Y/N]!”

Ah yes, all according to plan.

It wasn’t that long before you all had another mission to accomplish. It wasn’t that hard really, in fact the enemies seemed a lot weaker in comparison to the previous ones.

So why were you and the rest tied up?

“Oh no, we’re at risk of dying. Whatever could we do?” Garfield feigned a moan of pain.

“Maybe if [Y/N] shifted into their Kitsune form and got out of their restraints—“ Victor tried suggesting but, like what you did with Garfield last time, you shut him down immediately.

“No.”

Everyone instantaneously gets out of their restraints. No effort at all.

These goddamn desperate little shits—

It had been a month or so since Garfield and the rest found out you weren’t turning into a fox simply because you didn’t want to and they have yet to lose gas when it came to motivation.

It had even gone to the point where the Justice League and heck, even some villains and other unaffiliated vigilantes joined the mix. It was as if every moment someone was trying to coerce you to transform.

“Guys let’s have dinner!” Dick called out from the tower’s kitchen, not bothering with the intercoms since he knew you were close by. As a Kitsune you had a fantastic sense of smell, as such you were already hovering the kitchen since the start.

“Is that . . . [Favorite Food] and - and [Favorite Drink]?” Your mouth watered as you gazed at the dining table. All of your favorite meals, snacks, and beverages were all laid out. Ready to be consumed—

“Ah, ah! Let us see your Kitsune form first.”

You took one long stare at him before disappearing, literally. “I’m ordering take out.”

“God damn it!” The rest of the team all exit from their hiding spots, absolutely saddened by the lack of reaction and that they couldn’t spoil you with your favorites for once.

(It’s not like they can forget about your fox form and just give you everything on a silver platter. Hell no!)

You trudged to Damian’s room. Still invisible until you were sure you entered without anyone seeing you.

You reappear with a smile before shortly turning into a miniature [Favorite Color] fox.

“Tired?” Damian asked, still focused on his computer while you jumped to his lap and made yourself comfortable.

“Mm. Not really! They’re really funny when they’re like that.”

He nodded at your response and began petting you. His other hand reached forward to his phone, “Hey, are you still open? … Yeah . May I have [Favorite Food] delivered at this address…”

You faked a gasp. You knew he had been watching over you since the beginning. Normal people would have freaked out and questioned how knew but you didn’t. How could you? He is your boyfriend after all. Him knowing everything was expected. At least, that’s what he always says, and you didn’t really mind so . . . “You’re the best, Damey!”

“I know.” He finally gazed at you. The love in his eyes are as clear as day, “Now, get off. We have to pick up our order.”

General Batfam Taglist: @the-sander-fander

[cherrycoloredfaith]

BEAUTIFUL artwork for Kiss Off by my beautiful friend Ashley!!! she's so talented and beautiful thank you SO MUCH for being a part of this @ash-yuh

Kiss Off

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 5

Chapter 4

He left the bar first and set off down the road alone, getting to his car in a matter of minutes. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to breathe again. Driving aimlessly for nearly twenty minutes he realized he was leaving the city, going to the only other place he knew: Munson Construction. The storm clouds in his head that had vanished at the bar returned on the drive. The roads were dark, but the air was clearer out here, and Steve couldn’t get enough of it. The wind wrecked his hair, whipping it around as he took deep breaths. Steve wondered if he should just book it to Hawkins and give up on all this. Wondered if he was ever really meant to leave his hometown. Wondered if he really messed up and should have just married that girl from high school. 

Parking in that same red dirt parking lot, he didn’t ask himself what he was doing because there was no point. He was going to wait it out, stay out of Robin’s hair and give her no reason to worry. Getting out of his car, he headed towards the front to lean on the hood and look out into the surrounding woods that reminded him of home. Except you could see right through them to the street lights beyond the thin cluster of trees. If he was in Hawkins, he could have looked out on a number of lakes within a few miles. Perfectly hidden and perfectly alone. Even out here, he could still hear distant cars from the busy highways, pulling him out of his reveries.

Steve wished he had a pack of cigarettes. Smoking never really tempted Steve until moments like these, where he was alone, searching for some sense of peace.  Pausing, he remembered the key to the clubhouse sitting in his pocket.

Maybe Eddie had some in his locker or office somewhere? Would it hurt to take just one?

Steve tossed his keys in the air, caught them, and thought once again, fuck it, they gave him a key anyway, right?

A single light illuminated the steps going up to the door, the screen door slamming against Steve’s back as he bent to unlock the deadbolt. Once inside, he felt along the wall for a light switch and failed. 

In the dark, his outstretched arms led his way around to the lockers, trying to use what little light came from outside the doorway. The red hard hat was the second locker from the right if his memory served him correctly, so once his hands made contact with the wall of open shelves, he started to rummage. He felt a small, soft cardboard box in the back of the highest shelf, thought, yes, and fumbled to open it in the dark. Just one. 

Steve heard a creak of the floor and his head snapped up, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark hallway beyond that led to Eddie’s office. Nothing but pitch black.

Suddenly, a yell rang out–no, more like a battle cry. The lights came on in a flash, giving Steve just enough time to register the baseball bat swinging for his head. He cowered down, covering his face with his arms as he shut his eyes tight, preparing for the blow. 

When none came, Steve peaked out of one eye at the scene before him. There stood Eddie, in Garfield pajama pants, bat still raised high, and hair coming out of its bindings–a look of utter confusion cast upon his face. 

“Whoa, dude, what the fuck?” Steve exclaimed once he’d found his voice. Is this guy going to kill me?

“Me, what the fuck? No, you, what the fuck?!” Eddie retorted, not moving to lower the bat. He looked from Steve’s face to his hands where he still clung to the pack of smokes. “Did you come all the way out here for those? I could have told you where to get your own. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“No, Eddie, God, I was just–” Steve realized he didn’t have a good explanation for this situation other than the truth. “Look, my roommate needed me out of the apartment for a bit, I was just driving around, looking for somewhere to go and I ended up here.” He shrugged. “And I wanted something to do. What are you doing here?” Steve was pointedly not looking at Eddie’s silly pajama pants. The last thing he needed was to be punched by his boss for laughing at his sleepwear.

“Shit, well, no fucking point now,” Eddie sighed and rested the bat on his shoulder. “I live here, asshole.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he picked the first question that popped into his head. “Oh. So… do you normally go to sleep at 10:30 on Friday nights?”

Shutting his eyes, Eddie finally dropped the bat to his side, and Steve could breathe again. When he opened them again, he glared at Steve. “For your information, I was watching a goddamn movie.”

It finally clicked. “Why didn’t you say you lived here before? I thought that was your office,” said Steve, looking towards the dark hallway.

“Because not everyone knows. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, I just didn’t want to stay with Wayne anymore, and it was convenient. I pay him rent, but it’s nothing like what the city would cost me.” He looked defensive. 

Steve just nodded, unsure of what to make of it all. Before he knew it, Eddie had walked back into his office–bedroom– and then returned with one shoe on his foot, the other in his hand, his bat nowhere to be seen. He hopped down the hallway trying to pull the other sneaker on.

“Alright,” said Eddie when he succeeded. “Come on, then.”

Steve didn’t move as he passed by, wafting a soft, sweet scent from his clothes. ��Huh?”

“You need to waste some time, let’s waste it.” He was leading Steve through a door he hadn’t noticed before leading out of the kitchen. He grabbed a tin lunchbox as they headed outside. Steve followed as if on autopilot onto a surprisingly cozy, covered back porch, fit with a table, chairs, and even a couch and coffee table that made up for the missing furniture inside. It looked homey. 

Eddie set the box down to plug in some string lights that provided enough illumination for them to see one another. They sat on opposite sides of the couch; once Steve saw Eddie prop up his feet, he did, too, hoping to give any semblance of a relaxed state–when, really, his heart was hammering in his chest. 

When Eddie opened the lunchbox in his lap, Steve immediately got a whiff of what was inside, and he prayed a silent thank you to whatever fates led him here. Eddie looked over at Steve with a grin. “You seemed like you’d need something stronger than those.”

That was the second time Steve forgot about the cigarettes clutched in his palm; he decided to set them down and nod as a sign of his gratitude. 

Then, Eddie started to roll his own joint as if he’d done this a million times. Steve even saw that he had proper rolling papers. He watched him with fascination while Eddie focused on his task. No words were spoken between them, but something about the silence felt comfortable. No, not comfortable, but… anticipating.  Steve stared in awe at how relaxed he was, delicately licking the edge of the paper to hold it closed. Eddie’s hair was almost completely out of the low bun it was in and long strands dangled down, creating a curtain around his eyes. Steve had the urge to brush it aside.

“How’s the sunburn?” Eddie asked. 

“The what?” Steve blinked out of his trance. His heart was pounding. 

“Dude, you’ve got to snap out of it. Did I scare you that bad?” Eddie leaned in, searching Steve’s eyes for something.

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear. Thank you.” What was he thanking him for? Steve was screaming at himself on the inside, begging him to regain his cool. “I’m so sorry–for barging in like this. I can go, you don’t have to let me stay.”

“I know, Steve. It’s cool. To be honest it gets… a little lonely living out here, not being in the city. Your presence is welcomed, for now.” He shot Steve another smile and began to light the end of the joint. Steve starts to wonder if Eddie has already done this once tonight based on his low, honeyed voice, the slightest glaze over his eyes. 

“Where’s Wayne’s?” wondered Steve.

“Closest suburb to the east of here. Not ten minutes down the road when there’s no traffic. I just needed some space to learn how to take care of myself, but still save some money.” He took a drag. “And to smoke without worrying about Mrs. Wheeler next door calling the cops,” he added, chuckling devilishly low as if it was something that actually happened. 

Steve took the pass, inhaling deeply, trying to hide his little coughs. “What movie?” he asked as he stretched his arm back out for Eddie to take the joint from his hands.

Eddie looked over and laughed. “Can you speak more than two words at a time?”

Steve rolled his eyes and snatched his hand back, moving it out of Eddie’s grasp to take another hit. “Fine, fine! I mean, what movie were you watching before I broke into your house?”

“Technically you didn’t break in, you have a key.”

Steve flushed. “That’s another thing to get back to. Are you avoiding the question?”

“Never. I was watching Back to the Future 2,” he said matter-of-factly, chin held high as he took back the joint, fingers brushing Steve’s, sending a shiver up his arm. “Arguably, the superior of the two films. With triple the Michael Fox. ” Eddie looked up at the lights dreamily. 

“Dude, what? You’re lying to me. The original is so much–wait, what?” he asked, caught off guard by Eddie’s last words.

He laughed, “Kidding, Harrington! So far, the original one reigns supreme.” He winked, but his gaze didn’t linger. “That was actually going to be my first time seeing it until…” he gestured to the two of them sitting on the couch. 

The confusion Steve was experiencing at Eddie’s implications caused him to flush again. “Oh,” was all he said in response. Maybe he should ask him if he’s into guys. “So why give out keys to literally your home? Does everyone have them?” Steve screamed at himself in his head. 

“Usually I don’t have to worry about anyone I work with thinking anything valuable is inside. Tonight I was sorely mistaken. And no, not everyone has one, but anyone needs to be able to get in, so…” Eddie shrugged. “It’s worked out for me so far. I keep my room locked too during the day, so don’t get any ideas.” He smiled.

Steve decided not to ask why he received one after his first day, and instead decided to change the subject. “My roommate wouldn’t really have kicked me out herself, but I knew she’d want the place since she was the only one getting lucky tonight.” Oh, God. Why did he have to bring that up?

“Ahhhh, are we in love with said ‘roommate’? Here on a feel-sorry-for-yourself evening escapade?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, peering at Steve through lidded eyes. 

“No. Seriously, it’s not like that. She’s my best friend. We went to this place downtown… near Pennsylvania Avenue,” Steve was cautious with his words, but he couldn’t help it. He had to know. “I forgot the name. Do you know any bars over there?”

Eddie met Steve’s eyes, but his were unreadable. “Yeah, I know of one. Did they play a lot of dream pop?”

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed, trying not to sound too overly excited that Eddie picked up on a similar detail as him. And appeared to have visited the same bar as him. This probably meant he was cool, but he still couldn’t tell anything about him. He should just ask. “Yes, that one. Red door?”

Eddie nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me more about her. Your roommate.”

Steve got lost in talking about his best friend for a moment. He was familiar with giving the usual exposition of how they met working at an ice cream parlor but had gone to school together for years. They were inseparable ever since, up until she graduated and decided to go to college, which Steve hadn’t got in. He was so grateful she was close by, but he always felt that he couldn’t follow. When Robin’s scholarship finally let her live off campus, Steve was elated to come join her somewhere new. 

“So, she’s the whole reason why you're here?” Eddie asked. 

“Kind of. She’s who really got me out of my hometown,” replied Steve, shrugging.

“Hmm, sounds like you might be in love with her…” Eddie repeated. “Why else would you want to move just to work such a shit job with such a shit boss?” He gestured to himself, topped with a sickly sweet smile. 

“Seriously, dude, that ship has sailed. Or never even made it in the water. Or doesn’t even exist. I don’t–I don’t see her like that,” Steve answered, not sure if Eddie could pick up on what he meant. The weed was starting to cause his thoughts to swim around in his head. “This was the only job I got called back for.”

“Oh,” said Eddie. The joint had sat forgotten between his fingers as they spoke. Now, Eddie lit it once more, taking a drag. Instead of turning his head to blow the smoke away from Steve like he had before, he leaned in, locked eyes with him; he blinked slowly as he directed his exhale at Steve’s face in a powerful gust. Steve groaned, made a face and put up his hands, pretending to be bothered by it while his stomach did somersaults; he had to fight to not stare at his lips. “Guess Wayne was desperate, huh?” Eddie kidded.

“Hah, yeah, I guess so,” Steve nervously laughed to shake himself out of the trance Eddie put him in. He knew Eddie was reasonably joking, but it wasn’t far from what Steve suspected was the truth. But speaking the words out into the world of his failures didn’t hurt as much with the weed in his system. It didn’t feel so much his own fault as it was the nature of the outside world. Life outside a small town. Simple truths you learn as you age. Finding a job is hard, being gay is dangerous, etc. 

A quiet silence fell over them as they finished those last puffs of the joint. It was comfortable, but Steve couldn’t help but feel the absence of the words between them. It was nearing midnight according to Eddie’s digital watch on his wrist. Was it really just hours before Steve overheard Eddie complaining about him? Saying he was going to “ruin everything”? 

Steve jostled at the memory, the same concerns from before settling in. He had to ask. 

“Eddie… What happened last summer?” Steve urged. 

Their eyes met again. When did they get so close? Steve could see the expanses of Eddie’s brown eyes. They suddenly darkened, and it was as if Steve was being pulled forward ever so slightly. 

Then, Eddie pulled his legs back, leaned forward, and propped his elbows on his knees, putting distance between them as if nothing had happened. He looked out to the darkness of the woods ahead.

“Nothing that actually concerns you. I’m sorry you heard me yell,” he revealed, defeated and ashamed. “This guy on my crew last year, he caused a lot of problems. Didn’t treat Max well either.”

Steve’s stomach flipped again; so Eddie was referring to him with that outburst. Steve wasn’t sure what this last guy had to do with him. He hadn’t caused any problems like that, right? He barely remembered what he did that day.  Steve paused, taking in the information; he had that same feeling again, that there was more to be said about his guy, but before he could pry further, Eddie interrupted. 

“Anyways, you might want to be heading back before it gets too late. You good to drive? I don’t have anywhere for you to crash,” asked Eddie. 

Taken aback, Steve nodded, feeling dismissed. They stood to walk inside; Steve paused to assess how high he was only to find he was hardly buzzed. He was surprised, certain that he felt so much more a second ago.

Steve couldn’t tell what Eddie was thinking as his face was blank when they walked along a dirt path in the trailer to the front door. Eddie held it open for him as Steve tried to think of something to say.

“Thanks! For hanging out I mean, and the smoke.” Steve hoped he was successful at attempting to sound casual. In return, Eddie gave a familiar grin, nodding once and shutting the door behind him without another word.

Steve stood there for a moment, wondering why bringing up this guy set Eddie off so badly. He wished he could have stayed for longer, but it was getting late. Sighing, Steve brushed off his nerves and walked towards his car to head home. 

As Steve drove that evening, despite abruptly being sent home, he couldn't help but to be hopeful. Steve could drop the whole last summer issue if Eddie could. He imagined himself enjoying himself at work, making Eddie laugh, making him proud. Becoming his friend. Really learning how to do the work. He smiled to himself as he walked up to his apartment. He didn’t even feel so lonely when giggling drifted up from under Robin’s door. Steve went to bed in his new room finally feeling a little at peace. He fell asleep to the image of Eddie’s smile behind his eyes. 

[silverzoomies]

Honeysuckle

peter Maximoff x reader smut

chapter 1: sugar blues

warnings: female reader (sorry), sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, overstimulation, shameless smut, rough sex, kissing, porn with (slight) plot, canon divergence

word count: 4466

a/n: hiii !! this is my first fic posted to trunglr !! i've diverged from canon a lot here. timeline is modern day. remember deadpool 2? and the x men cameos? just ignore the fact that everyone would be old af now. pretend they're not old. also, even though he doesn't show up; it's the kelsey grammer beast btw. because i'm based. tyvm

chapter 2 here.

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Peter really didn’t mean to be such a menace.

Like, pffbbt…this was totally the most accidental instance of the classic phrase: Wrong place, wrong time. Outside of Hank’s lab, Peter noticed something he hadn’t seen the day prior. A faint light, emitting a firefly-like glow. Curiously snooping, as one naturally does, he peeked through the window of the lab door. Only to find…no one was there.

Peter checked the digital watch on his wrist. A Garfield watch. Totally sweet.

Hm.

Hank’s lab was usually occupato on late Friday evenings like today. He should’ve been inside, poking around with some newfangled gadget. Or conjuring up some gnarly formula. But, upon further inspection? The lab was entirely absent of any big, beastly scientists. Not a hint of blue fur to be found.

Maybe he took a break?

Nah. If there was one thing Peter knew about Hank? He never gave himself down time. Ever. The big guy would rather stay up for 72 consecutive hours in a row. Pounding down enough black coffee to scald his throat. Pouring through documents and schematics, keeping his brain persistently active. Such is the life of a mega nerd.

Which begged the question: Where was said mega nerd?

The faint glow from inside the lab caught Peter’s curious eye again. Tempting him to be just a little nosier. Something about the light was almost mesmerizing. Irresistible, even.

Screw it, he thought.

Even these days, in his early thirties; Peter was just as much of a menace as he was in his youth. Had he chilled out by a touch? Absolutely. Did he still enjoy a little mischief-making every now and then? Most definitely.

It really wouldn’t be so bad if he allowed himself one, quick look inside, right? A fast one. Faster than fast. No accidents. In and out.

Peter rushed through the door and into the lab at high speed. His movements were a little too careless and overconfident. And in his carelessness, he may have accidentally bumped straight into a lab table. How he hadn’t seen it coming, he’d never be able to guess.

Somewhat distracted, Peter crashed straight into the table. The force of his body against it caused a series of glass beakers and test tubes to come tumbling down. They shattered upon hitting the tiled floor below. And Peter stumbled back to try and avoid the mess.

His worn sneakers (one of the laces was untied. Must have been the true culprit. Sneaky sneakers.) crushed bits of fragile glass. The soles slid along a neon, pink substance. A glowing substance. The same, faint light he’d been hella curious about in the first place.

In seconds, a hot-pink gas unexpectedly rose into the air. It drifted upwards with a cloudiness much akin to cigarette smoke, straight from the substance Peter stepped in.

“Oh…well…shit…that can’t be good.” He mumbled to himself, pulling his earphones down to hang around his neck. Thin Lizzy’s Sugar Blues echoed quietly from them.

Peter stepped even further back the moment the foreign gas met his nostrils. He coughed, swiping away at the heavy cloud of smoke. A sweet-tasting thickness, like honeysuckle, coated his tongue and filled his throat. Peter blinked away an unexpected, stunned stupor. And he looked down at the pink glow, now having stained one of his shoes.

“Shiiiiit…shit shit shit.”

Glancing around to make sure no one saw what happened, Peter sighed. Annoyed with himself. Way to fuckin’ go, dude.

“Hope that wasn’t anything toxic.” He whispered with a soft cough, clearing his throat. Sugary sweetness littered his taste buds, and he smacked his lips.

Peter bent down to pick up the larger shards of glass on the lab floor. And as he poked through the pieces, he found the occasional strand of blue, beast hair left behind. A reminder. Which made him feel all the more guilty, knowing how annoyed Hank would be once he saw the damage. Sighing again, Peter looked over the mess of broken glass and mysterious liquids.

He shook his head. For a split second, he felt dizzy.

In a rush to clean up the evidence of his escapade, Peter tried to move quickly. However, he found his body refused to kick into speedster mode. His brain, which usually operated at lightspeed; now functioned at a pace way too mellow for his liking. He almost wanted to panic, but his reaction time moved like molasses.

Shit. Fuck. Maybe that glowy, pink substance was something toxic.

The physical effects of whatever-the-fuck he’d breathed in started, weirdly enough, in his fingertips. A strange, almost alien warmth, unlike any Peter had ever felt before. It spread from the tips of his fingers, into the thick veins of his hands. Peter hesitated, dropping a shard of glass. He raised his hand to carefully inspect it, furrowing his brows.

Should he call someone for help? Maybe wait for Hank to come back? Aw, but Hank’s totally gonna give him shit for messin’ things up so bad…

A tingling sensation in his hands kept Peter’s attention for a moment longer. The minute on Peter’s Garfield watch changed with the agonizingly slow passage of time. And a single second ticked by in silence. The only sound to be heard was that of Killer on the Loose playing through his earphones. But in his laggy state of mind, Peter barely registered the tune.

And like the flip of a switch, both Peter’s thoughts, as well as his body, finally caught up with reality. Speeding to an inhuman degree all over again. As if returning to normal. His normal.

Normalcy lasted 0.1 seconds.

Warmth lingering under Peter’s skin turned to blistering heat. A heat which immediately surged through his blood. It gave him goosebumps, causing Peter to jump in his spot. He dropped the pile of glass he’d picked up. And in a blink, Peter stood, struggling to catch his breath. Every inch of his burning body tingled, as though his veins were injected with buzzing, electric static.

The fiery buzz lit aflame in his veins, and moved with a furious rush. It settled somewhere completely unexpected. Boiling deep within his pelvis, the scorching sensation caused his muscles to tighten. And following that, Peter felt his cock spring to life. It twitched under his shining, silver jeans.

A millisecond passed, and his dick grew rock hard.

“Ohhhh-…wait…what the fuck???”

He knew he shouldn’t leave the mess he made behind. That’d be, like, mad rude. Majorly inconsiderate. And probably hazardous too? Fuck! Not fuckin’ cool!

But, at the same time, there was no way in hell Peter could face Hank, or anyone else right now. Not while this was happening. Whatever the hell this was.

Before he bolted, Peter disappeared from the lab and reappeared in a flash. He placed a wet floor sign over the mess of scattered glass and science-y substances. And left a hastily scribbled, sticky note behind:

My bad, Beastie. 

- Peter

Panicked, he made a mad dash to his (his mom’s) house. And in a blink’s worth of time, Peter disappeared behind the door to the basement. He hoped with every fiber of his speedy soul, that his mother wasn’t home to hear the sound of it slamming shut.

Once locked in the basement, Peter didn’t bother to turn on the lights. He stumbled through the messy space in a confused, feverish daze. His mind seemed to race a million miles faster. So fast, even Quicksilver himself could barely keep up. Muffled thoughts he couldn’t yet comprehend echoed in the furthest reaches of his subconscious. Peter felt his cheeks flare up with red heat, his breathing growing more labored and hot. Every step he took, every inch he moved, flooded Peter with overwhelming discomfort. Why did his clothes feel so irritating all of a sudden? His skin cringed at the sensation of cotton fabric brushing against it. Peter couldn’t breathe like this. How could anybody breathe in clothes as suffocating as these? He needed to shed them immediately. Now. Right now.

Peter tried to catch his breath as he shrugged off his signature, silver jacket. Next, came the goggles. They were tossed carelessly aside, along with his Walkman. Which he forgot to turn off, leaving it playing through a Thin Lizzy tape he’d already heard a thousand times over. Chinatown.

Sweat drenched articles of clothing were all dropped on the floor. Until Peter was left in nothing but tight, grey, boxer-briefs. And the Garfield watch. He kind of forgot about the Garfield watch.

Peter left a trail of soaked clothes to his unmade bed. Weakly, he fell into the cushions and off his quivering legs. 

For a torturous moment, all he could do was writhe around in clouded, heated agony. Every single one of his limbs ached with dull pain. And the blistering heat pooling in his pelvis made him squirm with amorous starvation.

A starvation for something he hadn’t yet figured out.

“Fuuuuuuck. Fuck this.” Peter groaned in soft, breathy pants.

A powerful surge of an even stronger, electric heat fired through him again. And his eyes flew open wide. Beady, black pupils flooded the brown of his irises. Sucking in a deep, labored breath; Peter rolled onto his back. A trickle of steaming sweat dripped down his temple. Titling his head up, Peter squinted. His vision blurred slightly as he stared ahead.

Dark, half-lidded eyes met the twitching bulge in his boxer-briefs. And he knit his brows together.

Something seemed…different.

So, like, whatever. Maybe, privately, Peter had always prided himself on his size. Most definitely above average. His dick had a nice thickness to it, and wasn’t weirdly shaped in any way. And the few times he fucked around with it, he never heard a single complaint from anyone.

But this…

Unless he was totally blind to the size of his own dick his entire life? Something really wasn’t right here. 

Another rush of hot, sticky heat washed over Peter like a feverish wave. He trembled, hissing in response to the overwhelming burn that came with it. Under the fabric of his underwear, Peter’s bulge pulsated with demanding aggression. Begging for any stimulation. In a foggy, desperate haze of sexual frustration, Peter reached downward. Hesitant fingers dragged frantically across a trail of soft, silver hairs. Guiding themselves to the waistband of his underwear. A wet spot caught his eye, and he groaned. In one, quick motion, Peter shoved the garment down his trembling legs. Slick precum pulled with the fabric, separating from the tip of his leaking head.

And Peter’s aching cock finally bounced free.

He struggled to comprehend the image in front of him. Peter rapidly blinked, staring down at his dick in muddled confusion. Blossoming desire burst with an electrifying buzz through his cock. And Peter hissed again. He sank his teeth hard into his lip, mindlessly bucking his hips into nothing.

Nothing.

An instinct in his subconscious mind forced itself forward, demanding Peter find something. And fast. His cock bounced on its own again, visibly pulsating. Thick, wet precum spilled from the tip. And he threw his head back with a whine.

“H-Holy shit…”

Yeah. No doubt about it now. Peter’s dick looked a lot bigger than he remembered. The length ached so painfully, vibrating in a most subtle way. Imperceptible to the human eye. Colored a dark, pinkish hue, and decorated with pulsing veins; Peter’s cock appeared on the verge of bursting. And the tip sputtered with so much precum, he was left wondering if he’d cum already without realizing it.

Whatever! Be cool, dude! So, yeah! He must have exposed himself to some kind of weird, sex chemical. What the hell was Hank even doing with something that potent?? No way he was saving it for personal use. Peter really didn’t wanna think about that right now.

But he couldn’t have slapped a warning label on it?

Don’t touch! Lest ye be horny!

Not that Peter would’ve seen a label anyway.

No big dealio! Maybe all he needed was to get off. And really get off. Like, maybe Peter needed to nut so hard, the afterglow would slow him down for a good, few minutes. Instead of his usual, mere seconds.

He could totally do that! Easily! If Peter felt it necessary, he could beat off in the span of a second. Maybe after? He could finally move on with his life. Never to race carelessly through Beastie Boy’s nerd lab again. Call it a lesson learned.

Peter took his girthy(er) length in his hand, the veins straining under his skin. Based on feel alone, he could tell he’d grown in size. His hand was big enough on its own as is. But his cock held an even heavier, unfamiliar weight in his palm. Extremely sensitive too. Peter’s cock was so hypersensitive, that a single, light grasp got him writhing across the bedsheets. 

He sucked in another, ragged breath. Just a quick second was all he needed. And this heinous experience would finally come to pass. Relief. Peter only wanted to feel sweet, freeing relief. 

Reminder. Note to self: Maybe don’t go barreling through any science labs like a total spaz next time.

Several, squeezing pumps of his cock happened in an instant. By the next second, Peter came in bursts. Thick ropes of cum burned hot on his skin, quickly spilling over and making a filthy mess of him.

At the height of orgasm, his body convulsed in small twitches. Subtle vibrations raced through his veins, bringing feelings of ecstasy with them. Peter bit his lip even harder to hold back the obscene moans threatening to leave his throat. He breathed humid, exasperated pants of air through his nose.

Being the king of speed, it was completely natural for Peter to recover immediately after cumming. A couple seconds, and he’d be good to go all over again. Peter secretly prided himself on this trait too. His endless stamina came (no pun intended) in handy, should any totally hot babes wanna screw around for hours at a time. 

Such a trait wasn’t so handy now. Under the alluring spell of magical, sex chemicals? Recovery took less than a nanosecond. 

Peter’s head fell forward, his hand still wrapped around his raging hard-on. Absent-mindedly, he pumped the length without thinking, spreading the remnants of his first release. Running his other hand through the damp, silver locks of his hair, Peter groaned.

“Ohhh….this sucks so bad…auuugh…”

That same, now all too familiar ache fluctuating in his cock raged on. Orgasm did nothing at all to calm the storm surging with electric, tingling heat through Peter’s body. His dick twitched, pulsating red. Desperate to bury itself deep in something hot, wet, and so tight. Fuck. Peter needed something tight around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth. And he needed it so, wickedly bad.

He pushed himself over the edge two more times. And after that, another three. Eventually, his maddening frustration got the better of him. Peter stood from his bed in a fwip. Slumped over in a heavy breathing, cum drenched mess of himself; Peter observed his sweat-soaked body in a full mirror. 

His heart hammered away fast enough to send even him into cardiac arrest. Peter couldn’t catch his breath. And no matter how many times he felt the sweet, sanctity of orgasmic release; his desire was never satiated. Peace lasted only a fraction of a second, before dissipating completely. Leaving Peter to suffer in endless, boner agony.

The next second, Peter found himself hunched over in the shower.

Cool, icy cold water cascaded down his trembling body. Bracing his hand on the wall, Peter kept his other pressed to the wet glass. In an attempt to relax himself, Peter took long, drawn out breaths. Trying to calm the stirring fire in the pit of his belly; he fought the insatiable desires raving on in the back of his mind.

The cold did little to rid him of his painful, oversensitive erection. Peter couldn’t shake his thirsty, carnal needs. Even as he basked in the peace of cool wetness on his scorching skin, horniness consumed him. Dragging him down into the flaming depths of frisky hell. Praise be to our dark lord and savior: Boner Satan.

Peter made another, more frustrated attempt at stroking himself off. Just one more time, he thought. Standing under heavenly, frigid water; Peter wrapped a warm hand around his length. He was so, insanely desperate for anything to fuck that, by now; Peter instinctively rocked his hips into his own fist. Fucking into the wetness of it, he kept a palm pressed to the shower glass.

“Please please please please please please please pl-f-fuck! Oh, please please-” Peter whined, a flurry of needy moans leaving his lips. Yet another second passed, and Peter came again. Shooting a thick load of hot cum straight onto the shower wall, he shuddered. Peter’s hips moved on their own accord. And he found himself unable to control his own movements. His cock continued to fuck itself rapidly into his fist, even despite the near-painful overstimulation coursing through his veins. 

Peter couldn’t stop the tearful moans of torturous pleasure flying off his tongue.

“F-FUCK! FUUUUCK! PLEASE!” He cried, forcing himself to free his cock.

Falling forward, Peter pressed his forehead to the cool, shower wall. And he braced himself with an elbow to its surface. Soaked, silver locks hung over his face, and Peter stared down at the shower drain in hazy thought.

He knew he was beyond exhausted, having pushed himself too far. Peter’s mutation never allowed him to sleep. But once this was all over? He promised himself he'd be taking the longest nap ever recorded in human history. Jot that one down in the Guinness World Records. 

Peter lazily blinked, his eyes half-lidded.

Time to face facts. Only one thing could possibly satisfy this unending, carnal need. Peter’s animalistic instincts blared like a siren, shrill in his ear. They screamed out - Another person. Peter needed to feel the intimate touch of another, living, breathing body. Someone to breed. That word seemed to echo in the back of his mind like a forbidden whisper. Breed. Breed. Breed.

A conflicting onslaught of embarrassment swung like a wrecking ball through Peter’s thoughts. It shattered the lecherous desire holding itself stable in his head. Sure, he needed to feel the touch of another person. But…who??

Truthfully, Peter wasn’t comfortable screwing around with anyone in this state. Had this been any normal day? And he only wanted a fun, playful fling? No strings attached? He’d be a lot more open. But…like this? Misty headed, overstimulated, and choking to death on an ultra-desperate, sweet smelling, horny spell? C’mon! That’s just-...that’s so, majorly embarrassing! How was he even supposed to explain this totally weird scenario to anyone anyway? 

Sup, babe! So, I was fuckin’ around. Bein’ a pest. Y’know, as usual. And I sorta knocked some stuff over in ol’ Beastie’s lab. Yeah. There was this weird aphrodisiac involved, I guess. It was totally an accident, by the way. But I’m, like, so horny right now I can’t breathe. Already tried jerkin’ off. Yeah. Like, a lot. So, uh…listen…wanna screw?

Nope! Not happening! No way in hell!

But dammit all, he needed it! Peter was so, painfully hard and starving to fuck; he was almost convinced he’d die if he didn’t get to. If he didn’t bury his dick in something so deep and warm; if Peter didn’t stuff someone full of enough cum to cause a pregnancy scare. He would literally die. Plain and simple. A fact of science. Confirmed by Bill Nye himself.

What else was he supposed to do? Ask Hank for advice? Pfffbbt…

Burning, insatiable desire swarmed Peter again. He disappeared from the shower in an instant, now completely dried off. And he paced the basement at a speed so quick, he looked nothing more than a nude blur in the wind.

Okay. Fuck. Who, man? Who?? Think about this logically! How could Peter get his dick wet with as little embarrassment involved as possible?

Peter’s first thought?

You.

It shouldn’t have been you. But it was you.

Because of course you were his first thought. Peter had known you long enough now, that he felt he could trust you with anything. Even wickedly awkward situations like this one. You were his best friend. His dorky, little partner in crime. So patient, and so understanding. He knew for sure you’d never, in a million, bajillion years, judge him. For anything. No matter what.

Not to mention, you’d look so damn fine with your ass bent over for him, eagerly taking his coc-

Peter shook away the thought.

Jeez…that’s…a hella twisted thought to have about your best bud, dude.

Regardless of what Peter told himself, his instincts seemed to think otherwise. He felt his cock pulsate with painful, aching need again. And yet another, more torturous burst of heat blazed like a wildfire through his blood. Peter had become so oversensitive, he couldn’t hold back anymore of his needy, whiny noises.

Bolting to his bed in a flash, Peter grabbed a pillow. And he buried his face into the plush of it to conceal his moans.

“A-Aaaaa…fuck-” He whined, his voice muffled. What followed was a distressed laugh.

Focus! Focus, you horny spaz!

Other options. What were his other options, if any?

Some random stranger? No.

One: Peter wasn’t at all comfortable with total randos touching him like that. And Two: Talking some randy into messing around would take wayyyyy too long. Peter didn’t have the patience for it. Especially not right now.

You.

Mystique? Hot. So hot, she’s deadly. But, no.

She was Hank’s girl anyway. What kinda bro would Peter be to steal her away, just to relieve some horny tension? And tension he brought upon himself, while being a nuisance in Hank’s lab, no less. That’d be messed up, man! 

You.

Any other members of the X-Men? 

Ehhh…probably not. Most of ‘em were too young for Peter anyway. How warped would it be if he went to them in need of a sexual favor? They already thought he was a bit of a screwball. Why make it any worse?

You.

Wade Wilson?

He’d been assisting the X-Men a lot lately. All under the guidance of mister Russian, steel-dick himself: Colossus. Wade was a pretty eccentric guy. And a huge pervert. Really kinky. The kind of dude who’d be open to virtually anything if the right person asked him. So… why not?

But Wade would probably have a field day ripping Peter’s dignity apart. And more than likely, he’d spill the details to everyone completely unprompted. Plus, he’d be so obnoxious and teasing about Peter’s situation the whole time. And when was Wade ever gonna stop calling Peter ‘Jeffrey’ for no reason?? That shit didn't make any sense! Augh…

Nah. Couldn’t be him.

You.

Peter sucked in another, shuddering breath. His limbs trembled in humming surges of unbearable pleasure. As his pulsing cock bounced in a distracting desire for touch; Peter forced himself to ignore it. He checked his Garfield watch, squinting to make out the numbers through hazy vision.

Right about now? He knew your schedule should be open. Peter had memorized your daily doings at a distance. In a totally-not-creepy way. More in a clingy-lost-puppy-who-missed-your-company kinda way. Not that you knew about it. Which…yeah…maybe that did make it a little weird. Oops.

Peter fell onto his back on his bed, sinking into the blankets. He rapidly drummed his fingers on his bare belly. And he nipped his bottom lip in thought.

He’d always been a bit of a risk-taker. Facing the forbidden often gave Peter a kind of rush he sorely missed at this point in his life. And of all the risky chances he could take, none would be as forbidden as sticking his dick in his best friend.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. No duh, he’d thought about it. A lot. Ever since he met you, Peter hadn’t been blind to the obvious. Of course, he noticed how your hips swayed as you walked. How could he resist staring at the fullness of your lips, while you giggled at another one of his corny jokes? And it was virtually impossible to ignore the way your eyes sparkled up at him. Especially when he called you babe. And what about the cute look on your face when you blushed, all because Peter teased you one, too many times? 

Wait. Shit.

Either he was way too far gone, and lost without hope in a desolate desert of horny.

Or…Peter only just now realized he was totally, undeniably in love with you.

Probably both. Or, maybe? Just horny.

Teeth sinking further into his lip, Peter grinned mischievously through the pink flush in his cheeks. He’d been absentmindedly stroking his cock while lost in a daze of filthy, wreckless thoughts. Ultra, mega, next-level, wreckless thoughts.

Peter should have known. The very instant he thought of turning to you for help? He was done for. No turning back. No other option. There was nobody else in the world he’d rather screw around with right about now.

Another thought flashed through Peter’s mind. Like a brilliant light. The image of you on your back in his bed. Your legs spread open wide, just for him. Your gorgeous, doe eyes timidly looking up at him as you helped guide his cock into your-

Peter’s throbbing dick stood to immediate attention then. So, extremely rock hard it seemed to have a mind of its own. Peter’s cock pulled itself from his grasp, pulsating with a swell of hot desire. For you. And only you. 

He really, really, really shouldn’t do this. It’d be leagues beyond stupid. Reaching levels of stupidity only found in far off, distant universes.

But, hey! Peter might literally die! So, fuck it. Right? No way you’d be happy if he died. His death would most definitely break your heart. And he didn’t wanna break your heart!

A fwip, and Peter grabbed his phone from where it was buried, deep in some sofa cushions. His phone was a device he barely ever used. Social media wasn’t his forte. Peter wasn't afraid to admit; he was pretty out of touch. He still listened to cassette tapes on a Walkman, for fuck’s sake.

Typing something into his phone in a heated stupor, Peter’s fingers sped across the keys. Embarrassingly enough, he found he made an ungodly amount of spelling errors. Not his fault. He could barely even think straight. Instead of correcting his mistakes, Peter erased the text entirely. Replacing it with something much more simple and to-the-point.

He only hoped you’d understand.

- Basement. SOS

[sidekick-hero]

Will you cleanse me with pleasure?

(steddie | 8.4k | explicit| AO3)

A little something for @steves-strapcollection birthday 💜

Gerry, I already told you how much I appreciate you in our DMs so let me just wish you the happiest birthday here. Please never change because true passion and authenticity are so hard to find and knowing you is a pleasure I wouldn't want to miss.

Summary:

People are always saying that the only way you really get to know your partner is when you move in together.

Steve has always dismissed those people. He already knows Eddie inside and out. He knows Eddie's favorite mug (the Garfield one his Uncle Wayne gave him), what food he eats when he's sad (Mac'n'Cheese because that's been his comfort food since he was a kid), where that little scar on his forehead came from (he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a lost kitten which Steve brings up every chance he gets).

Steve thinks it’s safe to say that he knows everything important about Eddie when they finally decide to move in together.

Everything, it turns out, except that Eddie sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night at least once a week.

CW: Tentacle Sex, Monsterfucking, Tentacle Monster Eddie, despite these tags this is one of the softest things I've written. It's a love story 🥰

Special thanks to @yournowheregirl for feeding me ideas and cheering me on like the amazing friend she is, @scarcrossdlvrs for being so sweet and encouraging me and beta-ing this baby as well as @stobinesque for finding mistakes like Sherlock Holmes

People are always saying that the only way you really get to know your partner is when you move in together.

Steve has always dismissed those people. He already knows Eddie inside and out. He knows Eddie's favorite mug (the Garfield one his Uncle Wayne gave him), what food he eats when he's sad (Mac'n'Cheese because that's been his comfort food since he was a kid), where that little scar on his forehead came from (he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a lost kitten which Steve brings up every chance he gets).

Steve thinks it’s safe to say that he knows everything important about Eddie when they finally decide to move in together.

Everything, it turns out, except that Eddie sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night at least once a week.

Maybe he doesn’t know Eddie that well after all.

To be fair, he hasn't known Eddie that long either. Even for Steve, the way they fell in love with each other so quickly came as a bit of a surprise.

Part of the surprise is that he fell so hard, so fast, for another man because Steve had never dated one before. Sure, he had definitely thought about it. A lot. He definitely suspected that he wasn't exactly straight, thinking back to all the hand jobs he'd traded with fellow jocks and friends after basketball practice or behind the bleachers. But for most of his adult life he had been in a very committed and, at least in his mind, very loving relationship with a woman.

Until said woman broke his heart.

The breakup had been painful and Steve had just needed to get away from it all. So, in a spur of the moment decision, he packed his shit and moved halfway across the country from Hawkins, Indiana to Derry, Maine. Here he rented a quaint little house on the outskirts of town near the local lake, where he also used the basement for his physical therapy practice.

He was definitely not looking for another relationship at this point.

Of course, within the first month in Derry, Steve met Eddie, who turned Steve's already upside down life around a few times for good measure.

Steve's Beemer was already old when he drove it several hundred miles for the move. But here, with roads that can hardly be called that, it had started to give him real trouble. So he took it to Munson and Son Auto Repair in town.

The shop itself did not look like much, with the paint already peeling in places. The door to the office was locked, but he could hear noises coming from the garage section of the shop, so that was where he went. He expected to be greeted by another one of the gruff, flannel-wearing older men he had come to associate with many of the businesses here in town.

So he wasn't at all prepared for the mouth-watering sight of a man lifting wheels onto a metal track in nothing but work pants and an old, faded gray t-shirt.

The guy was about Steve's height, with shoulder-length curly black hair, broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, and a muscular back that moved under his gray t-shirt as he lifted wheel after wheel. His arms were covered in tattoos, more black than skin, moving over lithe muscles. His legs were long, not exactly thick, but the way they bent and stretched easily with the added weight told Steve they were strong, too. Steve couldn't help but imagine them wrapped around his waist or his head.

Clearing his suddenly very dry throat, Steve got the man's attention, and when he turned around, Steve knew he was screwed.

His face was beautiful. It was long, with high cheekbones, a wide and full mouth, and the prettiest brown doe eyes Steve had ever seen. They'd looked even bigger with how wide they'd gotten as they fell on Steve, clearly surprised by his presence. Steve didn't miss the way they had roamed over his body appraisingly. Nor did he miss the way Eddie had flirted with him outrageously, with no respect for personal space, once he had gotten over his initial surprise.

Twenty minutes later, Steve walked out with an appointment for the next day and Eddie's number.

And even though the appointment was rather depressing, with Eddie telling him that it would be best for Steve to say goodbye to his Beemer because it was only going to get worse, it was still one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Because that very same day, Steve went out on his first date with Eddie to go shopping for a new car. It was the most fun he had in a long time.

The day ended with Steve buying a new Jeep and fucking Eddie in the back seat on the shore of Devilfish Lake. What better way to christen the car, Steve had thought as Eddie rode him to oblivion before there were no more thoughts, just breathless whimpers and moans of their names.

Steve is pretty sure that he was already half in love with Eddie at this point.

The thing is: Steve has never been one to take things slow. It's not in his nature. He's a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy. A trigger-happy heart beats in his chest, and when he falls, he falls hard.

That's why, after barely a year of dating, he asks Eddie to move in with him.

Not that he hadn't wanted to ask earlier. No, Steve had thought about moving in with Eddie the first morning they woke up together. The morning light had streamed in and danced across Eddie's features as he slept peacefully in Steve's bed, his dark hair a wild mess and his cheeks flushed with sleep. Steve knew he wanted to wake up like that every morning.

He’s really proud of himself that he still managed to wait almost 11 months before he couldn't stop himself any longer. By this time they were sleeping at each other's houses all the time. Most nights were spent at Steve's because while Steve was living on his own, Eddie was still living with his Uncle Wayne.

Eddie had told Steve about growing up with his uncle because his parents had died when he was very young. He said he didn't remember them and that Wayne had always been like a father to him. It's a sentiment the old man seems to share, as he once told Steve about naming the shop and that Munson and Nephew never quite sounded right. Wayne decided to call it Munson and Son instead, explaining that as far as he was concerned, Eddie was his son. Eddie tried to hide it, but Steve had seen his eyes shine with emotion when he heard Wayne say those words so casually.

Steve really liked Wayne, and they hit it off after an initial wariness that Steve couldn't quite explain. Eddie told him that his uncle was just very protective of Eddie, who was not exactly popular around town, and that it always took him some time to trust strangers.

Wayne had watched Steve like a hawk for months. That's why Steve had decided to talk to him first about moving in with Eddie.

He had been nervous as he went up to Wayne and told him that he was going to ask Eddie to move in with him. Steve wasn't asking for permission, but he knew how much Wayne cared about Eddie, so Steve assured him that he would do everything in his power to make Eddie happy.

Wayne had put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and told him that he knew Steve cared about his nephew and that Eddie deserved someone who would do that without question. And then Wayne said the same thing Steve had heard too many times already: that the only way to really get to know your partner is to move in together, and that Wayne hoped Steve was ready for that.

When Steve asked Eddie to move in with him a week later, he thought he was ready. Hell, he thought there was nothing he could learn about Eddie that would really surprise him.

As it turned out, he was wrong.

Eddie had been hesitant when Steve asked him to move in. They were lying in bed, both naked, their skin still glistening with drying sweat. Their legs were intertwined and Eddie's head was resting on Steve's chest, his fingers dancing lazily over Steve's skin. There was cum cooling on Steve’s belly and he knew it would start to flake soon, but he was also basking in the afterglow of another mind-blowing orgasm and too content and satiated to move.

So when Eddie sighed wistfully and told Steve they had to clean up because he had to go, his work clothes were at home, and his alarm would go off in 5 hours, Steve didn't even think.

"Move in with me." Steve said, not even a real question. He felt Eddie tense in his arms for a moment before his fingers continued their dance over Steve's ribs and sides.

Marking the passage of time by the frantic beating of his heart and the racing thoughts in his mind, Steve figured it was at least half an eternity before Eddie asked, "Are you serious?”

Steve had tightened his grip on Eddie, his hand reaching for Eddie's and intertwining their fingers. "I've never been more serious. I want you to have your things here so you don't have to leave. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep with you in my arms every night. Move in with me. Please."

As he heard Eddie's sharp intake of breath at his words, Steve realized that a simple "yes" would have been enough. He didn't regret saying what he did, though.

Just as he was about to ask Eddie if everything was all right, if Steve had gone too far, if it was too much, Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve's chest, right over his trembling heart.

"Do you have any plans this weekend? I think I might need some help moving."

The move was a quick one, with Steve's jeep and Eddie's van and Wayne's help, it only took two trips to get Eddie settled into Steve's house. The rest of the day was spent barbecuing with Wayne in Steve's backyard, drinking beer and just talking. And when they said goodbye to Wayne, Eddie had taken his hand and led Steve up to their bedroom and laid Steve out on their sheets and made love to him, even though they hadn't said the words yet.

Steve had never been happier.

That had been two months ago, and for most of that time things had been perfect.

He knows that Eddie had been a little nervous at first that their different temperaments or rhythms would clash, with Eddie being a hyper ball of energy, sometimes unfocused and prone to insomnia and late nights, while Steve enjoyed his quiet times and early morning runs. But they work well together, mindful of each other's habits, needs, and boundaries, and willing to talk things out.

So why would Eddie not talk to him about the fact that once a week he would sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and come back at the crack of dawn smelling like lake water?

Steve waited for Eddie to come to him, vowing to be patient and give Eddie his space. He knows that this is Eddie's first serious relationship and that Eddie is used to doing his own thing without asking permission or telling anyone what he's up to.

But it's been weeks, and while Steve doesn't really think Eddie would cheat on him, he's still worried. It's not normal to leave your house, your bed, your boyfriend in the middle of the night, only to come back hours later without saying a word, is it? It confuses him and leaves him feeling off kilter, because why wouldn't Eddie just talk to him? He even brings it up once, says something off handed about Eddie's insomnia and if he ever goes for a walk or something when he can't sleep.

Eddie said no, lying to Steve’s face.

So when Steve feels Eddie leaving his arms and their bed again one night, he decides to follow him.

Eddie moves so cautiously, careful not to wake Steve. It is a shame for him that Steve has always been such a light sleeper. With his eyes closed and his breathing deliberately even, Steve listens as Eddie gets dressed and gently closes their bedroom door behind him. He smiles to himself as he hears the telltale creak of the loose stair that Eddie never manages to avoid, and the smile grows even fonder as he hears Eddie cursing softly to himself.

Steve follows him as soon as the front door closes, only slipping into his favorite pair of gray sweats and a hoodie he steals from Eddie before dashing after him. On his way out of the house, he notices that Eddie has left his car keys behind.

Slipping out the front door, Steve looks around, trying to decide which way Eddie most likely went. He remembers the smell of lake water on Eddie, so his best guess is Devilfish Lake. It's a short walk from Steve's house, no more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes on foot if you knew the shortcut behind the last house on the road.

And sure enough, there on the dirt road behind Mrs. Benson's house, a few feet in front of him, he sees a dark figure that must be Eddie. His long legs take wide strides, carrying him down the road fast.

For someone who claims to hate running, or any exercise for that matter, Eddie is surprisingly fit and hard to catch.

Which is good, because Steve wants to know what Eddie’s been up to before he talks to him, so Eddie can't know he's here yet.

Steve tries so hard to stay out of Eddie's sight that it takes him a minute to realize that he has actually lost sight of him. One moment he was walking in front of Steve and the next he's gone.

Shit.

Walking faster, he thinks about just calling for Eddie, his plan be damned. It's not exactly cold, but the nights here do get chilly, and in his haste he forgot to put on his shoes before he ran after Eddie. He just wants to go home, preferably with his boyfriend, and curl up in bed. And tomorrow they have to sit down and talk, because -

Before Steve can finish his thought, he hears a loud splash coming from the lake. It sounds like something big hit the water, something like a human body.

Eddie's body.

Eddie, who told him he couldn't swim when Steve asked him to join him for his morning laps in the lake.

It's not even a conscious decision when he starts running toward the pier, his legs pumping as fast as they can.

"Eddie!" He calls, his voice frantic. "Where are you?"

The ground changes beneath his feet, the earthy soil of the path giving way to the wooden planks of the pier, and his bare feet carry him almost all the way to the edge before he stops. His eyes search the lake for any sign of Eddie, but the water is still beneath him. Small waves lick at the wood of the pier, but the surface is flat and unbroken, with no trace of him.

"Eddie!" He shouts again, cupping both hands over his mouth to carry his voice over the lake. Fuckfuckfuck. Every minute he wastes calling for him, Eddie could be sinking deeper and deeper to the bottom, slowly drowning...

His hoodie hits the ground next to him and his sweatpants follow. Steve’s going to go in and the only thing they're going to do is pull him down as they get soaked with water.

He steps closer to the edge of the pier, arms raised above his head, ready to jump in when Eddie's voice stops him.

"No!" Eddie yells. "Steve, stop!"

Startled, Steve does.

Instead of jumping in, he scans the lake with his eyes until he sees Eddie's head above the surface, floating in place, the water around him barely rippling. He must be at least 700 feet away.

"Eddie? What are you doing? Are you hurt?" He asks, his voice lower than before, his tone confused. Eddie doesn't seem hurt, but why would he be in the water if he can't even swim?

Although, with the way he's still floating in place, it looks like he's doing just fine in the water. But why would Eddie lie to him about not being able to swim?

Steve wraps his arms around himself, a shiver running through his body. The air is cold as it whispers across his bare skin.

"I don't know what's going on." He hates how small his voice sounds.

Eddie makes a sound of distress and before Steve can blink, he's so much closer, just a few feet away. Steve didn't even see him move. Above them, the moon is full and bright in the night sky, its light illuminating Eddie's beautiful face. It looks pale in the cold light, his eyes huge and sparkling, somehow seeming even bigger than they usually are.

"Steve." He breathes out, a look of pure heartbreak on his face, and Steve has no idea what it all means, but it scares him. Eddie should never look like this, nervous, almost afraid. But most of all sad. "Please, Stevie, go home. You're shaking."

Steve takes a step toward him, but Eddie puts more distance between them immediately. Again, he moves too fast for Steve's brain to register. He’s now right on the edge, his weight balanced precariously on his heels, and Eddie is looking at him from way too far away for Steve's comfort.

"Not without you." When Eddie doesn't move, Steve adds, "Please. Just...come home with me? We don't even have to talk right now. I just... want to go home with you."

Another shiver runs through his body and he sits down on the edge of the pier, his knees tucked into his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He won't leave without Eddie. Steve doesn't even know why this is so important, but something in him feels that he has to stay, has to go with Eddie, otherwise he will lose him.

This time, as Eddie swims toward him, he's slower than before, almost hesitant, ready to bolt at Steve's first move. It still looks faster, more fluid, than anyone else he's ever seen swim. And Steve has been captain of the swim team for years.

He waits with bated breath for Eddie to approach him, and this time Eddie comes even closer. But he still leaves enough space between them that Steve can only see his head and neck where they stick out of the water. Something tells him that if he jumped in now, Eddie would be across the lake in seconds.

Looking into Eddie’s wide eyes, Steve sees so much emotion in them that his heart aches in his chest. He's also almost certain that the wetness on Eddie's cheeks isn't just lake water.

"Eddie?" Steve tries again when it seems like all Eddie can do is look at him with his hauntingly sad eyes. Steve wants to take him in his arms, run his hand through his hair like he always does when Eddie is having a bad day, and tell him that everything will be all right. They will figure it out, whatever it is.

He wants to tell Eddie he loves him.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie. I... I can't. Please go home, I promise I'll be there soon. But I... You have to go. I can't lose you, so you have to go."

Nothing about this makes sense to Steve, but Eddie sounds like he's in pain, his voice cracking. This time Steve is sure he sees tears on his face. There's also something desperate and wild in his eyes, like he's genuinely afraid of... of Steve.

"You're scaring me, Eddie. I don't know what's going on, but I can help you. I want to help you. Please. Talk to me."

Eddie swims even closer (more like glides) and Steve slowly lowers his legs, unfolding himself until his feet rest in the water beneath him. The water is surprisingly warm, the late summer days still clinging to it.

Steve can see something dark moving in the water beneath him, but he doesn't pay much attention. It's probably a fish or an eel. As far as he knows, nothing dangerous lives in these waters.

"Stevie..." Eddie starts again, his eyes searching Steve's and there is so much naked longing on his face. "I can't. I couldn't survive if you thought I was a freak like the rest of them, that you would be disgusted with me." Eddie's eyes beg him to understand, to not make him do this, to save them both. "You'll hate me. Or worse. You'd be afraid of me.”

"I could never hate you, Eddie. Or be afraid of you. Only ever for you." He takes a deep breath, thinking about finally saying those three little words that have been on his mind for months. He never said them before because he was afraid it would be too much, too fast.

That he would scare Eddie away because he knows Eddie has some baggage, that he can get skittish and overwhelmed at times with their relationship. Steve is still surprised that Eddie agreed to move in with him, if he's being honest.

But maybe it's time to let Eddie see the depth of his devotion to him, even if he can't say it back yet.

"Eddie, I -"

Something touches his leg, stopping him in mid-sentence. Something alive. It's firm, feeling smooth and warm against his skin as it slides from his heel up his calf to his knee, a soft touch, almost like a caress.

"OhmyGod." Steve whimpers as another joins the first, gently exploring his other leg, going as far as his thigh, and he has to force himself to look down. When he does, it's just in time to see two long black vines wrapped around his legs before they disappear as suddenly as they had appeared.

"What the -"

"I'm sorry," Eddie cuts him off, sounding horrified, staring at Steve's legs with an expression somewhere between horror and...shame?

Eddie has put some distance between them again. Steve looks from Eddie's face to his own legs and back to Eddie, slowly beginning to put the pieces together. Eddie's reluctance to come closer, his fear that Steve might hate him or be afraid of him, the black vines that only appeared when Eddie came closer.

"Eddie...what's going on? Were those, those things yours?"

He wishes he could take back the word "things" as soon as he says it, because Eddie pulls back again, his face shuttering, and Steve hates himself for putting that look on Eddie's face.

"It's okay if they were, I promise. I was just... surprised, is all." Steve tries to reassure, his hand reaching out to Eddie, desperate to get him to come back, to get close again. Let Steve touch him.

What he doesn't expect is Eddie's harsh laughter at his words, bursting out of him as if he couldn't help it. It almost sounds like a sob to Steve.

"It's not okay. You don't... you have no idea." Eddie's hands are buried in his hair, his frustration in every line of his beautiful face. His hands look different, Steve notices. Darker, shimmering in the moonlight, and his fingers look longer somehow.

"Steve, I'm a monster." Eddie almost spits out the word monster as if it's something vile. The words sound painful, spilling from him like from a freshly opened festering wound.

A monster. That's just... Steve doesn't even know. Laughable. Because Eddie, his sweet, goofy boyfriend, a monster? The same guy who fell out of a tree trying to save a kitten. Who still spends every Sunday with his Uncle Wayne, even hungover and sleep-deprived the few times he and Steve have gone to the nearest town for a night out. Eddie, who reads to Steve when Steve can't sleep and plays him sappy love songs on his acoustic guitar. The man who holds his hand when they fuck and looks into his eyes with every thrust, who kisses him when he comes, every time. That same guy is supposed to be a monster?

"That's not true." Eddie snorts derisively, but Steve continues. "You're not a monster. You're just Eddie. My Eddie. You always will be." Steve sees Eddie move again, incremental movements that bring him closer to Steve. "Nothing will change who you are."

His expression carefully blank, Eddie comes even closer. But Steve knows him, knows his face and all its many expressions better than his own, and he can tell that there is hope glimmering in his eyes.

"You mean these won't change who I am?" He asks Steve, showing him exactly what touched his legs earlier. They are not vines, but tentacles. Many of them, varying in thickness and length, all black and smooth as they break the surface and hover around Eddie. Steve can't help the sound that slips from his mouth, too surprised to catch it before it falls out and reaches Eddie's waiting ears, confirming all his worst fears.

Eddie laughs again, the sound just as joyless and harsh as the first time. "I knew it. Of course, this changes everything. Who would want to be with someone, something, like me?"

Eddie is so quick to assume the worst, to believe the worst, that Steve can't keep his voice from rising in frustration.

"I do, okay? I fucking do. They just caught me off guard. You gotta let me get my head around this for a second. I wasn't expecting... any of this when I followed you here, and I should be allowed to take a second."

He looks into Eddie's eyes and realizes how much closer he is again. This close, Steve can see more changes: Eddie's canines are longer where they nervously gnaw at his lower lip, his eyes are bigger, darker, than before, and his skin is paler, almost reflecting the moonlight. There's something different about him, but at the same time, he's still Eddie.

"I want to be with you. Tentacles or not, human or not. You're still Eddie. You're still the man I love."

Eddie gasps at Steve's words, obviously not expecting to hear those words from him. Especially now.

"Stevie..." he breathes out, reverently, and once again he moves faster than Steve's eyes can follow. He stops at Steve's shins and his hands touch Steve's ankles tentatively, as if he's still not sure if he's allowed. His tentacles seem to have no such qualms as they slide up Steve's calves again, and Eddie curses as he pulls them back.

Steve somehow misses them already.

He reaches out and sighs in relief when his hand finally touches Eddie, running through his wet curls.

"I love you, Eddie. All of you. Every single appendage." Steve adds the last part with a playful grin, and it elicits a smile, however small, from Eddie.

"Are you...sure?"

Instead of answering, Steve bends down, his hands cupping Eddie's face as he pulls him into a surprisingly sweet kiss. Eddie still tastes the same, his lips soft but firm against his. Eddie's tongue teases along the seams of Steve’s lips and it's warm and wet as it slides into his mouth, exploring it with a single-minded devotion as if it's been months instead of mere hours since their last kiss.

Steve can't help but moan into it and he feels Eddie's fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs in response. More and more tentacles have begun to creep up his legs as Eddie loses himself in their kiss, and Steve feels them teasing along his bare skin. Like Eddie's tongue, they feel warm and wet as they slide along his skin, some kind of fluid on their insides making the glide easier. Still, some of them get stuck to his skin with their suckers and it feels like Eddie is giving him hickeys on his thighs. Steve wonders if they'll leave suction cup shaped bruises.

It feels strange, not like anything Steve's ever felt before, but it's not unpleasant. It's just a lot. They seem to be everywhere and every touch, every caress, every suck sends another thrill through him. Steve is used to Eddie's hands as they map and explore his body until Steve is a withering mess begging to be touched, fucked, anything. Everything.

It feels like that, but more.

One of the tentacles finds its way between his legs, teasing along his shaft where it still rests mostly soft against his thigh, and he gasps into Eddie's eager mouth. The sound makes Eddie pull back, apologies already spilling from his lips, but Steve's hand on the back of Eddie's head keeps him from pulling too far away.

Their faces are still close as Steve whispers in the sacred space between them, "I...like it. Them. They feel good."

Eddie searches his face for any trace of a lie, but he finds none, because Steve is not lying when he says he likes the way they feel on him. He wants to feel Eddie's tentacles on every inch of his body, he wants them to wrap around him and hold him tight. He wants to touch them with his hands and find out how smooth they really are.

"Can I join you in the water, Eddie? Wanna be closer."

Steve presses another kiss to Eddie's stunned lips and that's enough to spur Eddie into action. His tentacles slowly begin to wrap around Steve, surrounding him on all sides as they pull him closer to Eddie. He wraps his own legs around Eddie's hips and feels the base of the tentacles somewhere on Eddie's lower torso. His hand is still on the back of Eddie's head, the other wrapped around Eddie's shoulder.

Their mouths are only inches apart and the world has stopped on its axis, waiting for them to take the final step, to fall somewhere from which they cannot return.

"You sure you want this?" Eddie asks, giving him one last chance to back out, to change his mind.

Steve has never been more sure. "I want you."

The tentacles on his body tighten and Eddie pushes forward into Steve's arms, wrapping his own around Steve and pulling him into the lake.

The water surrounds him on all sides, warm against his cold skin, and he tightens his grip on Eddie, trusting him to bring them both back to the surface. And Eddie does, their heads breaking through the water at the same time. Steve blinks the water out of his eyes and is rewarded when Eddie's face comes back into focus. He's still looking at Steve like he's not sure if this is okay, still worried that Steve will realize at any moment that he's in the arms of a monster.

Steve cups Eddie's face in his palm, his eyes soft as he looks at his boyfriend. "I want you, Eddie. I love you."

Turning his head, Eddie presses a kiss to Steve's palm. He looks back at Steve through his lashes, and Steve can see all the love he feels reflected back at him.

"I love you too. So much, you have no idea. I was so scared of losing you. I hated keeping this from you. I'm sorry, I shoulda trusted you -" Eddie begins to babble, the palpable relief coming off him in waves turning into a nervous energy that Steve is already all too familiar with.

"Shh, it's okay. I know."

A particularly adventurous tentacle wraps around his waist and Steve can't help himself, he has to touch it. His fingers run along the smooth and surprisingly warm flesh and Eddie whimpers softly in his arms.

Oh.

Steve grins at Eddie and he knows his face looks smug as hell as his fingers continue to stroke along the flesh of Eddie's appendage.

"They're, uh... they're sensitive," Eddie stutters, his cheeks gaining some color in the still bright light of the full moon above them. His tentacles really seem to have a life of their own, for while Eddie seems embarrassed by his reaction, his tentacles demand more of Steve's attention.

Another joins the one wrapped around his waist and Steve lets go of Eddie completely, still blindly trusting him to keep them both afloat so he can use both hands to explore their texture. They seem to writhe under his attention, as does Eddie, his hands clutching Steve's back, his nails leaving welts on his skin.

"Fuck," Eddie moans as Steve's finger runs over one of the suckers attached to his stomach. "It feels like you're touching my dick, ohmygod." Steve feels Eddie's hips moving between his legs, subtle thrusts that he can't seem to help.

Steve wants to see how Eddie reacts when he takes one of his tentacles in his mouth.

"Has no one ever touched them before?" Steve can't help but ask, feeling a strange sense of possessiveness over this part of Eddie. Neither of them were virgins the first time they had sex, but this is somehow more intimate. Something that should only belong to Steve.

Eddie bites his lip, trying to hold back his needy sounds and shakes his head.

That won't do.

"I want to hear you say it, baby. Has anyone else had their hands on your tentacles before? Or am I the only one?" Eddie's still biting his lips with those fucking prolonged canines, and Steve wants them on his body, marking it, brandishing him as Eddie's. He thumbs at them, gently prying Eddie's mouth open. " C'mon, lemme hear you."

Another whimper breaks free and with it the thing Steve wanted to hear so badly. "Just you. No one else. Only you."

"Good. They're mine."

Eddie's lips are on his with a hunger he's never felt before. It's like Eddie's trying to crawl inside him, their kiss all teeth and tongue, wet and dirty and so fucking perfect that Steve thinks he could come from that alone.

"I love you so much," Eddie pants into his mouth, unable to stop kissing Steve for more than those few words. Warmth spreads through Steve's body from the way Eddie kisses him, from the sound of those words coming out of Eddie's mouth and from the way he sounds so fucking reverent when he says them.

As Eddie loses himself in their kisses, his tentacles become more and more adventurous. They're everywhere, on Steve's thighs, his waist, between his shoulder blades. One is curling across his chest right now, it's suckers on his nipples, sending electric jolts of arousal straight to his achingly hard cock. Another plays with the head of his weeping cock, spreading more of that slippery liquid on it, and it's tip teases his slit, causing Steve to whine into Eddie's open mouth.

Eddie must have noticed the same thing. "Shit, you're bleeding. I didn't mean to..."

Steve is licking over his lip to pick up the red droplets when the tentacle that is still resting around his neck moves again, it's tip prodding at his bleeding lip. The tentacle also brushes Steve's tongue and some of the clear liquid drips onto his tongue. It tastes sweet, almost like honey, and before Steve knows what he's doing, he closes his lips around Eddie's appendage and sucks it into his mouth.

The taste of it explodes over his taste buds and Steve feels his head become light again, almost as if he's floating. He doesn't even realize that he's licking and sucking on the flesh in his mouth until he feels Eddie's hands fall to his ass, grabbing it hard and grinding his thick, hard cock against it as high-pitched moans and whimpers continue to pour out of him.

There must be something in the fluid coming from Eddie's tentacles, some chemical that makes Steve feel drugged, his body lax and his mind hazy with lust.

"SteveSteveSteve," Eddie almost chants, and nothing has ever sounded sweeter to Steve's ears than his desperation. His own cock is trapped between their bodies and he hitches his hips to get some kind of friction, but it's not enough.

"Fuck me, Eddie. Fuck me with them, I need them to fill me up, please." Steve begs around the appendage in his mouth and he feels more fluid squirt out of the suckers, almost like a cock dripping pre-cum. This feels like sucking Eddie's cock, the way the flesh throbs in his mouth, warm and thick, but also different. Heady and addictive.

Steve's hands wrap around the girth, forcing it in and out of his mouth until more of the sweet liquid comes out and fills his mouth. He moans around it, wanting nothing more than to be stuffed full of Eddie's cum.

As if they can hear his thoughts, another tentacle joins the one in his mouth, making his jaw ache as they pry it open so they can both fit inside. Then a third, thinner than the other two, begins thrusting in and out between them. It goes deeper and deeper with each thrust, hitting his soft palate and teasing his throat until it opens for it.

Liquid collecting along the flesh begins to drip down his throat, relaxing his muscles further as he chokes on the thick tentacles filling his mouth. A broken moan gurgles up his throat, the vibration of it enough to reward him with more thick spurts from the tentacles in his mouth.

While his mouth is being stuffed, the rest of Eddie's appendages are not finished with him.

Eddie's hands are still gripping Steve's ass tightly, not moving so much as holding Steve in place as his tentacles continue to explore and worship his body. The one that's been teasing the head of his cock begins to slowly jerk him off, its grip just the right side of too much but the pace maddening. Steve wants to thrust into it, but more tentacles have joined those around his waist and chest, and even more have wrapped around his thighs, effectively tying him down and restricting his movement.

"Fuck, you should see yourself, so beautiful, so perfect. I can't believe we could have done this the whole time." Eddie sounds as out of it as Steve feels, his voice raspy and so low Steve can feel it reverberating through his body.

Steve realizes that the tight coil in his groin is ready to snap, his muscles trying to tense despite the relaxing effect of the tentacle's pre-cum in his system.

Just when he thinks he can't take it anymore, Steve feels another tentacle slide along the sensitive inside of his thighs. It slips between his legs, forgoing his cock to wrap around his balls, squeezing them tightly enough to stave off his impending climax.

He tries to whine around the thick flesh still fucking in and out of his throat, and comes out sounding muffled and desperate.

Eddie shushes him gently. "Shh, sweetheart, I know. I know. But I thought you wanted me to fuck you and I could tell you were already ready to make a mess between us."

Another muffled whimper.

"You still want me to fuck your needy hole, stuff it until your belly bulges with how full you are?"

The groan that fights its way past his mouthful sounds pained, the mental image almost enough to make him come anyway, no matter how much Eddie squeezes his balls.

It's Eddie's turn to look smug. "Thought so. I will be so good to you, sweetheart. You'll get what you want, I promise."

The tentacle that has been squeezing Steve's balls loosens its grip and slips behind his balls to his taint, stroking along it with just enough pressure to slowly drive him crazy. He wants it to go further, to sink into him, his hole clenching around nothing in needy desperation.

It doesn't. Instead, he feels the tip of a thinner one nudge his hole, spreading some of its liquid over it. It's the sweetest kind of torture when the tip dips inside him, stroking his opening, relaxing it and lubing it up at the same time. Preparing him to take more, so much more.

Steve feels Eddie's grip on his hips loosen and the tentacles holding him down follow his lead, allowing Steve to move again. "It's your show, sweetheart. You can play with them however you want."

The tip pushes deeper into him, the flesh inside of him hardening, ready for Steve to fuck himself on it. He pushes down and feels it sink deeper, his muscles giving way easily. He begins to undulate his hips, slowly fucking the appendage in and out of him.

It's maddening, not nearly enough, and he whines unhappily.

Eddie's hand comes up and cups his cheek, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. "Another one?"

Steve nods, his eyes pleading. He wants to tell Eddie to give him two more, he doesn't care, they've taken it slow enough. But his mouth is still full, and he loves the way the tentacles gag him, forcing him to communicate by whimpering and moaning.

Thank God Eddie doesn't need words to know what Steve needs.

He feels another tentacle pushing at his hole, its tip also slipping in with ease. But the further it sinks in, the thicker it gets, stretching him further and further around it. With the added girth it definitely rivals Eddie's thick cock, the feeling of them spearing him open just as good.

Until the tentacles start to take turns fucking him, no set rhythm or rhyme to it, keeping Steve on edge the whole time. The slick squirt from the suckers must be dripping out of him by now and he wishes they were somewhere dry so he could feel it. As it is, all he can feel is the thick flesh going into him like a knife sinking into butter, and before his next whimper has finished crawling up his throat, Eddie is sinking another thick one into him.

There is no teasing this time, just one smooth thrust that causes Steve to throw his head back in ecstasy.

"Oh my God, Steve, you're perfect, so perfect, I love you so much, the way you just take them, driving me crazy, I'm so fucking close," Eddie sounds almost delirious with lust, like Steve really is driving him crazy, making him feel so good he's about to lose it.

The thought makes him clench around the tentacles inside him, desperate to make Eddie feel even better, to make him feel as good as Steve. His tongue begins to rub along the suckers on the underside of the ones in his mouth and he can feel the spurts of pre-cum getting thicker, their taste even sweeter now. He drinks it down greedily, its effect on him not fading.

Steve's hands let go of the appendages in his mouth and instead search blindly for Eddie's hands. When he finds them, he laces their fingers together and grips Eddie's hands tightly, signaling that he's close as well. He brings their joined hands to his stomach, untangles the fingers, and presses Eddie's palms against his skin.

"Fuck, I can feel them." Eddie sounds awed, and when he looks up at Steve, there is an expression of naked hunger on his face. "Think you can take another one?"

For Eddie, Steve would take another ten.

He really wants another one too, the feeling of being stuffed to the brim is intoxicating, the constant pressure against his sweet spot and the way the sensitive nerve endings at his entrance feel overwhelmed again and again with every thrust stretching him wide. He's never been so full, never felt like this, and he already knows they need to do this again.

He nods, his fingers entwining with Eddie's once more, his palms resting on the backs of Eddie's hands. As Eddie slowly enters him with another thick limb, he chokes on the overwhelming sensation. His hole clenches almost painfully around the intrusion, the circumference almost too much, even with the relaxing effect of the tentacle's fluid, and Steve whimpers.

Before the sensation can become unpleasant, the tentacle around his cock quickened its pace, adding to the pleasure and overriding any discomfort Steve might have been feeling.

The tentacles in Steve's mouth pulse and writhe, the pre-cum squirting from them overflowing his mouth, dripping from the corners and running down his chin. He can tell that Eddie is close, too, and Steve knows he's holding back because he needs Steve to come first.

As if reading his mind, Eddie whimpers brokenly. "Steve, fuck, you feel perfect around me. God, I wish you could fuck me right now, your perfect cock inside me as I fuck you with my tentacles, my cock rubbing against your belly bulge."

It's Eddie's words, the picture he paints, that pushes Steve over the edge and he comes in thick spurts between them. His inner muscles clench rhythmically around Eddie, his girth almost too much to handle.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," Eddie chants, and Steve feels him coming everywhere.

Eddie's hips buck up, forcing his cock between Steve's cheeks and it jerks against him as Eddie comes in thick spurts. They quickly dissolve in the water, but he can feel their warmth.

Even more overwhelming is the feeling of his tentacles squirting thick ropes of cum into his mouth and ass. It's so much that it keeps spilling out of his holes, filling him to the brim with Eddie's release. Their hands are still joined above his stomach and Eddie stares at him in shock as Steve's belly expands even more.

"Stevie, fuck, look at you. So beautiful when you're filled with my cum, your belly feels so big," Eddie sounds like he's having a religious experience and Steve is not far behind. In his mind he can see how his hole will be gaping when Eddie pulls out and he knows he will feel the way they just fucked for hours, if not days. The thought causes another thin rope of cum to spurt from his already softening cock.

Eddie carefully pulls his appendages out of Steve's mouth and ass, mindful of the overstimulated flesh. They slide out easily with the way Steve's whole body is limp after his release.

Once they're out of his body, Steve sinks into Eddie's arms like a puppet whose strings have been cut, letting Eddie hold his weight. Eddie's hand comes up and runs through Steve's hair, his chest rumbling with the soothing sounds he makes against Steve's head.

"That was..." Steve begins, but he doesn't even know how to finish the sentence, feels like there are no words in the English language sufficient to describe how he feels.

"The best thing that ever happened to me," Eddie suggests, and Steve hums in agreement. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Steve." Eddie adds, planting a kiss on Steve's ear. "I never thought anyone could want me, love me, knowing what I am."

This causes Steve to leave his comfortable resting place against Eddie's neck and look into Eddie's eyes as he says, "I think I've been in love with you since we christened my Jeep. I wanted to tell you that first morning you made us burnt toast for breakfast. But I was so afraid to tell you because I thought it was too much. That I was too much."

There's sadness in Eddie's eyes, and Steve doesn't know if it's for Eddie or for Steve. Maybe for both of them. They've both been so afraid to show the other who they really are for so long.

Eddie's lips find his in a kiss that is almost painfully soft, just their mouths pressing their love into each other's bodies, their tongues writing their devotion on each other's souls. When Eddie pulls away, his eyes are as soft as his kiss.

"You can never be too much, Steve. The way I want you? It scares me sometimes. No matter how much you want, how much you need, how much you love? I'm meeting you every step of the way."

Tears form in his eyes at Eddie's words, and his heart beats so loudly in his chest that he's sure Eddie must hear it.

"Marry me."

Steve surprises them both with his words, judging by Eddie's eyes, which are as wide as his own must be, but he doesn't take them back. He just adds, "Not today. Or tomorrow. It doesn't even have to be this year or the next, but someday I want you to be my husband."

The way Eddie's arms tighten around him should be answer enough, but his heart still soars as Eddie presses kisses all over his face, each one accompanied by another breathless yesyesyes.

It's only when Steve starts to shiver in his arms that Eddie stops peppering every inch of skin he can reach with kisses.

"You're cold," Eddie says and Steve can't help but laugh.

"Brilliant observation, Sherlock. How come you're not?"

Eddie just shrugs, "No idea. I don't feel the cold as much when I'm like this. It would suck in the winter otherwise."

This makes Steve pause. "You come here in the winter too? But the lake freezes over."

“Don’t I know. Wayne is helping me clear some of it off further down the shore so I can get in easier. I can show you next winter. For now we should get out. "

With that, Eddie swims them closer to the pier and helps Steve up onto it, because Steve's legs still feel like jelly. As Eddie lifts himself out of the water, Steve sees his tentacles in all their glory for a moment before they retract back into Eddie's body. His hands also return to their normal color and shape, and his face loses that otherworldly look.

He's just Eddie again.

Steve can't wait for the next time they can do this. But for now, he just opens his arms and Eddie immediately steps into his warm embrace.

"Let's go home, my love."

[carlsdarling]

How to save a cat Part III

The relationship between Carl and Y/N evolves, and not everyone appreciates that… Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, angst, violence

Over the next few weeks, Garfield recovered. And it was inevitable: The relationship between you and Carl evolved rapidly. You only met secretly, either at secluded places in Alexandria, or Carl climbed on the roof under your window at night, woke you up by tapping softly on the window, and then you sat together on the roof for hours, holding hands, making out a bit and looking at the stars. Most of the time, though, you just talked. But there was always the danger of being seen and caught.

One night the mood between you was very sexy, and it ended with you having your hands in Carl's pants and stroking him, Carl bucking his hips, moaning softly, and caressing your boobs. "Do you mind if I cum on your hand, baby?" whispered Carl, breathless with arousal.

"No," you kissed him softly on the lips as he also began to spill his cum all over your hand, whimpering. With hearts beating wildly, you held each other. You didn't have anything with you to clean yourselves up.

Carl looked at you. "Y/N?" You raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to maybe... sleep with me?" he asked shyly.

"Now?" you responded in shock. It wasn't very comfortable on the roof - especially for someone who was inexperienced - and the night breeze quite chilly, and there was no way you could take Carl to your room. Your parents could notice it. But you also desired it - Carl's caresses excited you incredibly, besides, you were head over heels in love with him. You wanted to be as close to Carl as possible.

"No," he said hurriedly, laughing nervously, "Of course not right now. I meant sometime, soon." He cracked his knuckles and glanced at you uncertainly.

"Yes," you replied simply and kissed him. "I want to make love to you, too, Carl."

He beamed happily at you. "Okay. I'll take care of condoms." A little later he said goodbye and climbed down the tree in front of your house, walking home elated. Neither of you suspected that he was being watched from a downstairs window.

                                                 ***

The next morning, Carl was on his way to his guard duty. He had slept too long and was already running late, hurrying down the streets of Alexandria. Guilelessly, he rounded a corner when someone unexpectedly grabbed him by the upper left arm, brutally punched him in the stomach twice, ripped off his bandage and threw it in the dirt, then twisted his arm. Tears welled up in Carl's eyes, he couldn't even scream, the pain in his stomach was so intense. "You stay away from my daughter, Carl," your father hissed hatefully in Carl's ear. "Y/N is way too good for you, you're not worthy of her, just look at you," he said with a sneer. "The sight of you is an inconvenience. Your scar is hideous. No wonder you always cover it up. It would have been better if you had died from that shot. I won't let my daughter ever be seen with someone like you, understand? You look like some creature from Wrong Turn, who could ever love you?" he taunted Carl before pushing him to the ground, sneering at him and sauntering off as if nothing had happened. Carl lay curled up on the ground holding his stomach, tears streaming down his face.

No one had ever spoken so viciously about his injury; not even Negan. The latter had made fun of it and marveled at the empty eye socket, but then conceded that it had just been a joke and Carl had no reason to be ashamed of the scar. But this was different. Carl was aware that he might have been the first to look behind the governor's smooth facade and realize what lurked behind it: an abysmally evil and empathy-less man. Robert Andrews, the governor, was dangerous, and Carl was very afraid for you.

After a while, Carl managed to get to his feet and made his way to your house with a bad feeling.

There, hidden behind a wall, he spotted your father who was chopping down the tree in front of the house. Carl knew there was nothing he could do right now; reluctantly he went home, with his stomach ache and sprained arm he could not do his guard duty anyway.

You were caught off guard by events just as Carl was before. You left the bathroom to go downstairs to breakfast when your father grabbed you by the hair, yanked you around and threw you against the wall. You yelled out loud as your shoulder was bruised. Before you could get up again, he kicked you several times, then grasped you by the collar and dragged you to your room. "You get to watch me cut down the tree in front of the house now," he let you know with a cold smile. "No more Carl climbing up to your window. No more sneaky dates. No more dating at all! I warned you. You're to stay away from that white trailer park trash. You stick to your room!"

He slammed the door and locked you in, and you broke down crying. Garfield lay on the bed watching you from his big amber eyes, then came to snuggle up to you. He meowed quietly. You buried your face in the cat's soft fur, sobbing desperately. But you were already so used to your father's abuse that you quickly shrugged it off. You just hoped he would leave Carl alone.

Not wanting other people to become aware of how he was treating you, your dad let you out the next day. "'See Carl Grimes again, and you'll regret it. And so will he," he threatened. "I'll find out."

That's why you were half-mad with fear when you met Carl behind the stables a few hours later. He looked pale and unhappy, and you fell into each other's arms. You noticed immediately that Carl tensed in your embrace, as if he were in pain. "Carl? What's wrong?" you asked alarmed. He held his stomach, his face contorted. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," he groaned, avoiding looking you in the eyes. "It's just... yesterday I was fighting with a walker, and he grabbed me and threw me onto a trash can."

You reached for his flannel and shirt and lifted both. "Oh, God, Carl," you said in horror. A huge hematoma was visible below his ribs. "That must hurt terribly. Poor you. Come here." You stroked his back. "We have to be more careful," you whispered. "My dad, he knows. He chopped down the tree."

Carl nodded somberly. "I saw it. Do you want us to break up? I could understand," he said sadly. "I might not be good enough for you anyway, either. You're so pretty, you come from a politician's dynasty, and I'm just... maybe someone else would be better for you." He fiddled with the bandage. "You don't have to feel obligated to be with me just because I helped you with Garfield, you know."

Disgruntled, you groped for his hand. "Carl, what is this bullshit? What makes you think I don't want you anymore? I love you, you moron. And I don't want to be with anyone but you." You involved him in a kiss. "We just need to be more careful," you repeated. "Already forgotten, you get condoms," you tried to lighten the atmosphere.

Carl silently hugged you to him and stroked your head. "We'll just meet outside," he then decided. "I'll take the car out by myself, and you climb over the wall, and then I'll meet you outside Alexandria."

You nodded. "That's what we'll do."

                                                 ***

When Carl went home later, he encountered Michonne in the kitchen. Rick was apparently not home. Carl had been unable to bring himself to tell you about your father's assault on him; he didn't want to add fuel to the fire, and he was also ashamed of how helpless he had been.

It had also stirred up unpleasant memories in him, of how he had almost been raped then, of how he had been lying on the wooden soil, unable to defend himself, at the mercy of his tormentor. Most of the time Carl repressed it all, but now it was present again and tortured him. He just couldn't talk about it.

And your father's spiteful words burned inside him and made him feel bad and worthless to top it off.

Michonne immediately recognized that something was wrong with Carl. "Carl? What's the matter?" she asked cautiously, lowering the knife she had been using to slice carrots.

He hesitantly met her gaze. "Uum, it... it's just, I have a girlfriend." Michonne tilted her head in confusion. Carl's expression didn't match the happy news. "It's Y/N, the governor's daughter, and... and he doesn't want that. He's told me very clearly that I'm not what he wants, and I'm not good enough, and he doesn't want me and Y/N together, but we love each other." Carl rubbed his chin defiantly. "So we're meeting secretly, just outside of Alexandria now, but I... we plan to... soon, so, we want to have sex with each other, and I need condoms," he then blurted out, red-faced.

Michonne was trying to process all this information. Despite everything, she was glad that Carl had confided in her. "The condom thing is no problem Carl, but where are you guys going to go? Why don't you just come here and go to your room? You know you have your privacy there.“

Carl's eye widened. "No," he protested. "Y/N would never enter our house, she's far too afraid of her dad finding out!" He looked scared himself.

Michonne frowned and pushed aside the incredulous anger at the governor. Carl and Y/N didn't deserve this. So it would probably happen in the back seat of Carl's car, on some country lane where Carl and Y/N could neither relax nor feel safe. Michonne felt bad at the thought - Carl wasn't just her best friend, he was like a son to her. She would have liked something less complicated for him.

Carl seemed to have read her mind, because he said, "We have a place we can go where it's safe and we'll be undisturbed," he revealed to her. "Don't worry about it."

Michonne looked at him inquiringly, registering how tense he was and how pasty. "I'm glad to hear that. But Carl, that's not all, there's more," she said softly. Carl's lower lip quivered, then he began to cry.

Michonne took him in her arms, and now he was sobbing. "Robert Andrews... he said to me I was ugly because of the scar, no one would ever love me, and it would have been better if I had died then," he said in a choked voice. "He said it was an inconvenience to have to look at me."

"That's not true," Michonne said, aghast, holding Carl a little away from her to stare at him. His eye was red from crying.

"Yes, it is," he sniffled. "That's what he said." He didn't mention the beating.

Michonne was speechless, she would have preferred to go right out and kill the governor, but she forced herself to be calm so as not to upset Carl even more. He looked like he had hardly slept anyway. She cuddled him gently and murmured comforting words. "I'll get you the condoms, and then the two of us will bake waffles with strawberries," she announced, struggling to somehow cheer Carl up. He loved waffles with strawberries. "And after that, you're going to sleep." Later, she would talk to Rick about it.

Rick was sad and angry when he learned about it later. Carl had endured so much awfulness in his short life, so many losses, and now this douchebag of a so-called governor was insulting him and shattering his self-confidence. Rick was so proud of how Carl's personality had developed, and Lori would have been, too, had she lived to see it. Hershel as well.

Couldn't Robert Andrews see how lovable, brave and sensible Carl was? How could he behave so callously toward him? Besides, it just wasn't true that the scar disfigured him; even if Carl himself still saw it differently. "I could kill Andrews," Rick growled. "Where's Carl?"

"He's asleep," Michonne informed him. "He said he had a headache. And I'm afraid you'll only make things worse for Carl and Y/N if you confront the governor." Frustrated, she threw a rag into the sink. "I already told Carl that it's really important that they use protection every time. If Y/N gets pregnant, it would be fatal."

                                                  ***

The next day, Carl made his way to the main gate. Negan had arrived, some goods were to be traded, and since Rick was on a mission of exploration in a nearby town, that task fell to Carl.

His stomach still aching, he slowly circled one of Negan's pick-ups and looked at the goods on the back of the truck - oranges, lemons and more exotic fruits. "Okay, we can use several palettes of these," he said, holding his stomach unobtrusively. "In exchange, we'll offer eggs, bacon and corn."

Negan eyed Carl from top to bottom. "What's the problem, serial killer?" he then asked straightforwardly. "You look like shit."

"Oh, thanks, Negan," Carl replied aggrieved. "I already know I'm so ugly I'd better be dead, and the sight of me is an insult! You don't have to tell me that, just shut the fuck up!" he yelled at Negan.

The latter flinched, startled. "That's not what I mean," he said, puzzled. "You look really sick, Carl. You're as white as a ghost." Again he eyed Carl. "You haven't been... bitten, have you?" he asked in a lowered voice.

"No," Carl muttered. "It's just, a zombie threw me on a trash can, and my stomach's been hurting ever since. It'll be fine," he finished sullenly.

"Doesn't look like it. You have two doctors in your crappy Alexandria town," Negan opined sternly. "You should see one of them. For your own sake. Just my two cents." He shook his head in annoyance.

So, after completing the trade, Carl went to the doctor's office, where he found Siddiq, and also told him the tall tale of the walker who had attacked him. Siddiq instructed Carl to lie down and expose his abdomen, then carefully palpated Carl’s body. Carl wailed in pain. "That's a massive bruise, Carl," Siddiq expressed with concern. The injury was just below Carl's old scar. "What other symptoms do you have? Did you throw up after the accident?"

"Twice," Carl admitted meekly. "The abdominal pain is pretty bad, too."

"Did you witness blood coming out of any part of your body?" insisted Siddiq.

"Um, no." Carl pulled down his shirt and sat up.

Siddiq sighed and rummaged around in a closet. "I hope you don't have a ruptured spleen, and that it's just a bad bruise," he then informed Carl, handing him some pain killers. "We'll have to wait and see. Take the pills, and get into bed. You need rest. Do not lift anything heavy. No strenuous activity. I will check on you tomorrow." Carl nodded gratefully and went home.

[hellowhisperingstars]

I See you

Summary: Maisie has a bad day at daycare and you talk to Steve and Robin about your worries.

Pairing:  Ghost!Eddie Munson x Mommy!Reader x Psychic!Daughter

Words: 5K

Warnings: 18+, no y/n used, fluff, angst, ghosts, cussing, bullying, mentions of things from S4. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Part two! This one is still sad, so I apologize for that! Let me know what you think and please let me know if you have any requests! My inbox is open!

You can find more of my stories on my Stranger Things Masterlist!

You can also read this series on AO3!

Previous - Masterlist - Forward

That night you had a long conversation with Maisie about her dad and how he passed in an accident. You never want your little girl to know the terrors of the Upside Down so you danced around the subject. When she’s older… way older… like fifty, maybe then you’ll tell her. 

You also asked her to not let anyone else know that Eddie was still around and to be extra careful about talking to him in public. The town didn’t need to know that she was special. You didn’t want anyone to look at her the way they looked at Eddie. Plus, you were already a social pariah because you had a child out of wedlock in a small town. Not to mention she was the child of the so-called “cult leader” who everyone believes destroyed the lives of half the town. You knew he wasn't, his friends and family knew he wasn't but you still explained to Maisie that people will say mean things about her daddy but she shouldn't listen to them. They didn’t know him. 

But her dad was a hero. 

It's been at least a week since she dropped the 'your late boyfriend was haunting your house and he wants his Garfield mug' bomb and to say you were on edge was a little too on the nose.

You didn't know what to do. You had never raised a child before and for that kid to be a psychic, well that was just the tip of the iceberg. Both of you were learning how to walk down this path you were on, you just hoped the ground didn't fall out from under you as you went. 

It took a bit of fighting with yourself but you were finally able to muster up the courage to talk to Steve and Robin about this while Maisie was in daycare. Pushing the door open you looked around the Family Video for your two friends, usually one of them was at the front. Over the years they had been promoted to Manager and Assistant Manager so they ran the place now that Keith was gone. “Hello? Guys?”

The sound of crashing tapes caught your attention, a quiet “Oh shit..” was heard as Steve muttered to himself. Your head snapped to the right as you slowly started to move around the rental counter towards the horror section. 

“Welcome to Family Vide- oh! Hey!” He smiled as he walked out of the aisle and over to you engulfing you in a hug before he stepped back to look at you. When he noticed your pensive look his smile fell and he got worried. “What happened? Why aren't you at work? Is Maisie okay?”

“Maisie's fine.” You say holding your hand up. “I took the day off. But there is something about her I need your help with... Where is Robin?” 

Looking at his watch Steve frowned. “She’s on her break. Went to grab some coffee. Should be back soon.” 

“Cool,” You said, with a nod. Moving towards the counter you leaned against it. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as he went around the counter to lean on it next to you. 

“It’ll be easier if I tell you both at the same time.” You mumbled turning when the bell above the door rang. Hoping it was Robin you looked over your shoulder only to come face to face with Mrs. Cunningham who was sneering at you. Slowly you stood up and moved away from the counter so she could return her videos, licking your lips you wandered over to the kids section looking for anything Maisie would be interested in watching. She really liked The Little Mermaid.

Maisie sat alone on the swing set of her daycare, her little Mary Janes kicking the sand below her to make a small pile. She didn't like daycare. She was alone a lot and none of the other kids wanted to be her friend. Plus the old lady inside was mean. Looking up she glanced at the window of the building to see the stern looking old woman staring back at her. Maisie didn’t understand why she didn’t like her, she always left some of her lunch and her afternoon snack for her when the other kids didn’t, always made space for her at the table so she could join them when they colored. All the other kids didn’t seem to even notice her which confused Maisie since the lady was always there. She asked Miss Britney about her once but she told her that there was no lady.

Maisie looked over her shoulder when she felt a cold set of hands on her back giving her a gentle push on the swing. 

“Hey kiddo,” Eddie said as he smiled down at her.

“Hi. Mommy said I can’t talk to you outside of the house.” She muttered as she looked at the ground again kicking her legs out as he pushed her back again so she could go higher.

“Yeah, your moms smart like that.” He said as he pushed her once more. Looking over his shoulder at the other kids making sandcastles in the sandbox he turned back to her. “Why aren’t you playing with the other kids?”

“They don’t like me.” She shrugged with a sad pout. “They say mean things.”

“Well don’t listen to them okay,” He said as he moved to lean on the pole of the set as she swung back and forth. “You’re worth a hundred of them.”

“Mommy said you were my daddy.” 

“Well, your mom doesn't lie.”

“Why can't she see you?” Maisie asked as she looked up at him as she continued to kick her legs back and forth. Going higher and higher.

“I don't know, bug.” Eddie shrugged as he watched her. “Don’t go too high. I can’t catch you if you fall out here.”

Or maybe he could…Nah, better not test it, it took a lot of energy just to push her on the swing. 

Giving a quiet okay she let her legs dangle as she started to slow down. The two of them sat in silence for a while, Eddie watching her from his spot leaning against the swing set. It was strange to know that he had a daughter, that she was sitting on this swing. He was so proud of you for bringing this little girl into the world, but he was also incredibly sad he couldn’t be here to help you raise her like he wanted too. Glancing up at the school he narrowed his eyes at the old lady in the window for a moment as she glared at Maisie, you would think she would be more polite to the only living person that could see her. He watched her for a few more minutes until the daycare attendant walked from the building as she looked at her watch. 

“Time to come inside!” Miss Britney called as all the other kids started running to her. Giving a quick headcount she looked up and waved her hand giving the little girl a smile. “Maisie! Come on!” 

“Watch this daddy!” She said as she jumped from the slow moving swing landing in the sand about a foot in front of where she was before.

“Woah!” Eddie laughed as he followed her towards the house. “You're cooler than I am. You know that?”

Maisie giggled as she ran to the group and walked into the house. Turning she smiled at Eddie as he followed them inside. 

The old lady glared at him. “You're not supposed to be here. You take that devil child and get.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her his protective side coming out. No one was going to pick on her when he was around. Alive or dead. "Don't you dare call her that. She's just a kid, my kid. So if you have anything nasty to say you say, you say it to me, got it you old hag?”

The woman huffed in indignation before she disappeared. She'd be back. She was the old owner of this home before it was turned into the daycare, not like she could go anywhere. Eddie knew it was rude but he didn’t like the lady. Turning he gave Maisie a little wink as she sat down to color and he sauntered over to the long bench of cubies to perch on top of it. He'd be right here in case she needed him.

Once Mrs. Cunningham left you peaked around the shelf to see Steve glaring at her back as she walked to her car. 

“Why don't you ever stick up for yourself?” Steve asked, looking over at you. “What happened to Chrissy wasn't yours or Eddie's fault. It was Vecna.”

“Do you really think anyone would believe me? Trust me if I had the money I would just leave this place and never come back. But I don't want to leave you guys or take Maisie away from Wayne. She's all he's got.” 

Sighing, Steve gave you that look that said you were being stubborn. 

“No need to rock the boat when the boat's already capsized. I'm just the girl who dated the devil, remember?” 

The bell rang again and Robin walked in. “They didn't have any mocha so I got you vanill- hey!”

“Hey Robs.” You waved with a small smile. 

“I just saw Mrs. Cunningham walk out… you okay?” She asked as she handed Steve his coffee and leaned on the same side of the counter as you.

“Yeah. She just glared.” You wave it away. No point in being upset about it. 

“Great, now that Robins here you can tell us what's up with Maisie.” Steve said as he took a sip of his too hot coffee. He made a face when he burnt his tongue. 

“Is she okay? Is she hurt? Sick? I can run to the store to get her medicine if you need me too.” Robin asked quickly. Maisie was the first baby of the group and the need to protect her was strong in everyone. This little girl sure did have a lot of loving Aunts and Uncles. It made your heart swell. 

“She's fine.” You soothed, taking a breath you looked at them both. “But I think Maisie's a psychic.”

“She's what?” Steve blinked, rolling his sore tongue on the roof of his mouth to try and get the pain to stop. It didn't help.

“Psychic.”

Steve gave you a confused face as he looked between you and Robin. “You think she's… crazy?”

“That's psycho dingus.” Robin said, rolling her eyes at him. “Mai is like El or something.” 

“So she has powers?” 

You shrugged a little bit. “Well, she doesn’t have telepathy or anything like that. She's a medium. She can see and talk to ghosts.”

“But, I mean she's four… it could just be her imagination. Like an imaginary friend.” Steve said, taking another drink of his coffee.

“An imaginary friend who is named Eddie and looks just like her dead dad?” You argued as you looked up at him.

Steve choked on his coffee. You watched him sputter as he tried to breathe. “E-eddie?”

“That's what she said.” Wiping at your tired eyes you looked sadly at them. “She knew things that I never told her. Like that I called him Teddy. The jerk even opened every cabinet and drawer in my kitchen because he wanted that damn Garfield mug at his Uncle's. Twice now.”

“Did you or Wayne ever say anything about him in passing?” Robin asked as she fiddled with her coffee lid. “Maybe she picked up on something, you know? Or seen a photo?”

You shook your head. “No, we are very careful about what we say right now. She's already getting hate for being his kid. We don't want her being a bigger target for the town to go after cause she won't stop talking about him. I only told her that his name was Eddie after she mentioned he said she could call him Teddy. I have one photo in my room of him but it's at the top of a shelf that she can’t see."

“Can you… see him?” Steve asked quietly. Weirder things have happened here in Hawkins. “Eddie… I mean?”

You shook your head and looked down at the counter pushing a box of Mike and Ike’s across the counter. You would give anything to see him again. “No. Just Maisie. She described him perfectly, you guys. She told me about his hair and that damn green vest he was wearing when he died. Is this my fault? I didn’t know I was pregnant when we went into the Upside Down. Do you think the spores we were breathing did this?” 

Robin and Steve looked at each other before they both sorta shrugged. Steve crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned on the counter closer to you. “I don’t know. But I know it’s not your fault. This might not have anything to do with the Upside Down, it might just be a Maisie thing.”

Nodding you sighed leaning your forehead against the counter top. A Maisie thing… 

After your talk with Steve and Robin you tried to go about your day like normal, grabbed some groceries, a coffee, and when the time came you picked up Maisie from her daycare. 

She wasn't her normal bouncy self when she ran over to you. Her arms going around your neck as you pulled her into a hug. “Hi baby. Have a good day?”

Shaking her head she shoved her face into your neck as you held her close. 

“What's wrong? What happened?” Looking up at Britney as she walked over to you both. “What happened?”

“We had a little incident today.” Britney said as she gave you a sad smile. “I walked away to change one of the smaller kids and one of the boys called Maisie something mean and they got into a fight. Maisie has a few scratches but she gave that boy a black eye.” 

“What did he say?” You asked, trying to keep in your anger as you pulled Maisie away from your neck to check on her. She was a little banged up, nothing that wouldn't heal in a day or two. Her eyes were a little red around the edges from her crying.

Britney hesitated a bit before she took a deep breath. “He said his dad told him that her dad was a murder and that you were a witch... He also said that she was a freak, and his dad said he should stay away from her.”

Anger boiled hotter under your skin as you looked around for a kid with a black eye so you could give his parents a matching set. “Where are they? I would like to talk to them.”

“They're already gone.” She said holding her hands out to soothe you. “I told them that since he started the fight that he wasn't allowed back for the rest of the week. He needs to learn that he can't speak to someone that way. But in turn… Maisie is also suspended for the rest of the week since she hit him.”

“Shit…” You mutter, pulling her close to you again. You have to go back to work tomorrow. Would Hopper mind if she came with? You could have her color at your desk... or one of the teens could watch her… “Okay. I’ll.. I'll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry.” Britney frowned. “She can come back next week.”

“See you next week..” Sighing, you picked Maisie up and started towards your car. Maybe Wayne could take her since he has days off… no he needs to sleep since he hasn’t been able to switch to the day shift yet. Once at your car you helped Maisie into her seat you crouched down next to the car so you could be almost eye to eye with her. “Are you okay baby?”

Sniffling Maisie nodded her head as she looked down at her hands. 

Nodding, you brushed your hand over her head and gave her a quick kiss to the forehead before you closed her door and got into the driver's seat. Pulling away from the old house you turned on her favorite cassette and made your way through town towards home. It didn’t take you long to get back to Forest Hills and as you pulled into a spot by your house you looked back at Maisie through the rearview mirror to see her looking out her window, her breathing a little fast. “You see something?” 

She nodded her head and looked away from whatever she saw, “She has a scary face.”

“It’s okay,” You soothed as you unbuckle your belt. You were trying really hard not to freak out so you didn't panic her. Sometimes her sight scares you. “Just close your eyes and I’ll let you know when it’s okay to open them. Okay?”

You watched her nod again and shut her eyes tightly in that kid way like when they faked being asleep and you quickly grabbed your keys from the ignition and threw your purse over your shoulder as you got out of the car. Looking around you tried to see something, anything, that could be what your daughter saw but as usual there was nothing. Taking a deep breath you moved to her door and went through the paces of getting her out of her carseat before you lifted her into your arms, closing the door behind you and walking up the steps to your home. Unlocking it you moved to the side so the door could swing open and you closed it behind you, quickly you moved to the couch and set her down. “Okay, there we go safe inside. No more scary lady.”

Maisie slowly let one eye open as she looked around the living room, seeing it was safe, you saw her relax. 

“I still need to get the groceries from the car,” You said, helping her out of her jacket. “Why don’t you get comfy and then you can help me make dinner. That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled, completely forgetting about the ghost outside the house, as she bounced off the couch and then down the hall to her room to change out of her day clothes. Maisie loved helping you make dinner. 

Smiling after her you left the trailer for just a few minutes to grab the bags from the trunk and locked up your car for the night and moved up the small steps to the front door. Turning you give one more sweep around the empty area, your eyes narrowed, and you square your shoulders. “I don’t care who you are or what you want but you leave my baby alone. You’re not welcome in this house.”

Turning you enter your home, closing the door behind you just in time for Maisie to run from her room in her home clothes. It was just a little dress that you made from an old set of curtains and a sewing machine from the goodwill but she loved it. “What’s dinner?”

“I was thinking of grilled cheese and tomato soup.” You said as you put the bag of food on the counter and started pulling out the cans of soup. “That sound good?”

“Yeah!” She smiled as she ran into the kitchen to pull the step stool out of the corner and up to her usual spot at the counter. She was a good little helper and you let her butter the bread as you started on the soup. The knife she used was a kids learner one so there was nothing sharp to hurt herself with. You smiled at her as you handed over four single wrapped things of cheese to open. 

Grabbing a pan from under the counter, you cleared your throat and started a second burner. “You wanna tell me what happened at daycare today?” 

 Maisie stopped peeling the plastic from the cheese to look up at you. “Tony was being mean about daddy and me. He was saying mean things that his daddy told him. I didn’t like it. I told him to stop but he didn’t.” 

You listened as you stirred the soup. Letting her tell you in her own time, you had learned from being around Eddie as long as you had that sometimes pushing for an answer would just make the other person feel cornered so you nodded your head giving a little ‘mhm’ as a cue to continue.

“I told him I would tell Miss Britney,” She said as started to open the cheese again. “But he pushed me and called me a tattle tale and a fr-freak. So I got up and I hit him.”

“Gave him a black eye.” You said, looking over your shoulder at her. “Who taught you how to punch huh?” 

“Uncle Steve.” She shrugged as she handed over the pieces of buttered bread now that you turned the burner for the soup off to cool. 

“Okay,” You’d have to talk to Steve about that. He taught a four year old to punch when he could barely win a fight? “How’d you get those scratches?”

“He put his hands on my face and he scratched me.” She pouted.

“While I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and your daddy, you can’t hit people, baby.” 

“I know,” She sighed as felt a zing up her spine and she looked around the kitchen to see Eddie standing at the kitchen door staring at you sadly. “Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweetpea,” Eddie smiled at her before he looked back up at you. Five years older but still just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. 

Your back went ramrod straight as you looked over to where she was looking and just saw the empty doorway. “He’s… um… here?”

Maisie nodded and pointed her little hand to where he was standing. “Right there.”

Your eyes moved around the empty space before you gave him a little smile. “Hi babe.”

He smiled as he took a step towards you. “Hi pretty girl.”

Maisie giggled behind her hand as she looked up at you. “He said you were pretty.”

“As he should!” You said smiling back at her before you finished making your dinner. 

The two of you sat at the table and ate your dinner chatting lightly about what's going to happen the rest of the week. You'd have to call Hopper later tonight and see if you can bring her down to the station. She had plenty of books she can read, pages to color, little toys she can play with. She'll be fine. You stared at her in awe as she told you about the rest of her day. You had to remind yourself that she was four, but she spoke so well for her age, guess that comes with having no one but adults for friends. She picks up on words and habits like a sponge. 

After dinner you set her up with The Little Mermaid and a puzzle as you washed the dishes. After a while you caught yourself staring at your daughter as she sang along with the movie a puzzle piece in her little hand as she watched Ariel sing “Part of Your World” and you wished you could be like her. Seeing so many scary things, dealing with people being rude for the hell of it, and taking it all in stride with only a few bad patches here and there. Really you wished you could see what she sees. Help her learn how to shut the bad things out. How were you supposed to protect her from the things you can't see? You could barely protect her from the things you could. 

So lost in your thoughts you jumped as you felt a cold spot grow on the small of your back. Like someone had placed their hand there. It was comforting. Eddie. It was like he was saying that everything would be okay. Looking over your shoulder you watched as a small puff of air left your lips in a little cloud like it did when it was winter. "Eddie, that had better be you or I swear to God…" You mutter trying not to get Maisie's attention. 

The feeling left a few seconds later, but that spot stayed cool for a while after that. You finished the dishes quickly and moved to your room to change into your pj's. Looking up at the photo you had of Eddie in your room you smiled sadly. You loved that photo. Eddie was sitting on his Dungeon Master throne in the drama room of Hawkins High, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sat on his lap, his nose was buried in your hair as you laughed at something he said. Pulling on one of Eddie's old band shirts that Wayne gave you after Eddie died you left your room and got comfy on the couch to finish the movie with your little girl as she pointed out things you never noticed before. 

You watched her yawn as the movie came to a close and you looked up at the clock to see it was time for her bath and then bed. Together you moved into the bathroom so you could give her her bath, the tub filled to the brim with bubbles as she played with her toys. Once you had scrubbed your girl clean, you wrapped her in a fluffy towel, and dried her off as you got her ready for bed. Tucking her into her little pink princess bed you kissed her forehead as you sat on the bed next to her. “Goodnight baby. I'll see you bright and early in the morning. Do you need anything before you're off to slumberland?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Do you remember what you say if you see something scary?”

“You’re not welcomed here. Get out!”

“Atta girl!” You smiled as you pushed her curls from her forehead. 

“Night mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled as she got comfy in the bed, making sure to grab her stuffed bear, Mr. Noodles, that Joyce bought her when she was born, before you stood up and left the bed leaning down to switch on her nightlight before you moved to the door turning off the overhead room light. You stood in the doorway for a moment watching her in the dim purple light of her little nightlight before you left the room leaving the door open just a crack in case she needed you. 

You took a few minutes to turn off the TV and clean up her puzzle pieces making sure not to lose any so she can continue it later. Moving into your kitchen you grab the phone off the wall and by heart you hit the buttons for Hopper and Joyce's home. You listened as the phone rang and rang before Jonathon answered. 

“Hello?” He said into the phone. 

“Jon!” You smiled as you leaned on the wall. “How are you?! Back from college already?”

“Hey!” You heard him smile as he said your name. “Yeah, got in this afternoon. How are you? How's Maisie?” 

You caught up with Jonathon for a couple of minutes before you got the courage to ask for Hopper.

“Everything okay?” Jonathan asked.

“Maisie got into a fight at her daycare and now she's not allowed back until next week. I just needed to ask Hop if I could bring her with me to work.” 

“Bring her here. I'll watch her.” Jonathan said as he pulled the phone away for a moment to say something to his mom about watching Maisie at their house. 

Joyce jumped at the chance to see the little girl and through the receiver you could hear her say “Of course! She's always welcomed here, you know that!”

Your eyes stung with tears as you laughed a little. The love you felt for your found family was otherworldly. “Jon, are you sure? I don't want to mess up any plans you have with Nancy.”

"Yeah!" He said, "Yeah it's fine. Nancy has to work tomorrow so it'll be okay. Plus I'm sure she'd love to see her."

“Thank you guys. I'll bring her by on my way to work. Is eight o'clock okay?”

“That’s perfect!”

Letting out a sigh of relief you thanked him again before you let him go for the night and grabbed your book from the counter. You liked to use the time that Maisie slept to read uninterrupted. Moving back into the living room you got comfy on the couch and opened the book to your saved spot. You had just started to get into the story when the lights started to flicker. Looking at the lamp next to you your heart started to race. Eddie said that the lights flickered when Chrissy was killed by Vecna. It couldn’t be… 

Slowly getting off the couch you dropped your book as you stared at the lamp as it continued to flicker randomly before you realized… It was morse' code. S.O.S. Eddie. Looking around the room you jumped letting out a little scream before you clamped your hand over your mouth to keep from waking Maisie as your TV turned on by itself. The static white noise was all you heard before you looked around for the remote that seemed to be missing. You needed to turn it off by hand. Slowly you moved towards it and got down on your knees so you could turn it off. The powering down sounds happened and you breathed a sigh of relief when the world went quiet again. Looking up at the TV your eyes went wide as in the reflection of the screen was Eddie. Sitting behind you so close you could feel the cold. You had been so preoccupied by the lights and the TV you didn't even notice the drop in temperature. Tears collected on your lower lashes as you looked over your shoulder at your empty living room and then back into the TV. "Eddie…"

He smiled at you. Looking as handsome as he was before the demobats attacked him. He looked healthy and whole. You couldn't hear him but you saw his lips move. "Hi baby."

"How…" Shaking your head you smiled at him with a watery laugh, you didn't care. Your daughter wasn't crazy and Eddie was here watching over you both.

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

For @munsons-maiden; I don't know what this is or where it came from. It just came into my head while you and I were reblogging that Freud shirt and I immediately sat down and got to typing. Figured I'd dedicate it to you, because it means something in our conversation inspired me. Thank you for being you. Interacting with you makes every day better.💕

Summary: ??? Eddie comfort ???? Our baby gets soaked in the rain and you help him because he's too lost in his thoughts. GN!READER

TW; swearing, heavy rain, Eddie's body is in the trailer but his mind is far away (not quite dissociation, more like really lost in thoughts), nicknames (sweetheart, honey, baby and maybe others), Wayne & Eddie indirect interactions, comfort and fluff. This is gonna be sweeter than the chocolate cupcakes I just treated myself to.

Word count: 789.

Eddie stands just beyond the doorway of the trailer, rain dropping off the end of his nose. His clothes are soaked through, his leather jacket heavy and thick against his skin, trapping his body heat where it is. His denim vest is almost black in the heavy saturation, his curly hair lays limp in thick dark tendrils down his face and about his shoulders.

He stares into space, seeing the copious mugs and hats which decorate the furthest walls, but he doesn't see them. Not the Garfield mug which usually makes him smile with nostalgia, not the bright red caps which Wayne favours in the summer time, not even the homemade bright yellow 'best son' mug which Wayne gifted Eddie a few years ago.

Eddie just stands and stares.

"... Eddie?"

He turns his head slowly, eyes still a little glazed over. "Y-yeah, hi." He frowns, clears his throat, and looks at you, his gaze a tiny bit clearer now. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Uhh... are you...?" Your hesitance to approach him is what breaks Eddie out of his silent reverie and he physically shakes himself off like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere. "Long day?" All you receive from Eddie is a slow nod. You haven't seen Eddie like this for a while and you're not quite sure what to do to help him, but then it occurs to you that maybe Eddie doesn't know how to help himself, either. His mind may be able to picture what to do, but actually carrying his tired body through his routine is a different thing. Which is where you come in.

How many times have you been in the position of having to face yourself at the end of a long, hard day and Eddie has wordlessly helped you, somehow knowing what you need without you having to say a word?

It seems that you're lost in your own thoughts too, because your hands are on either side of the collar of Eddie's leather jacket before you even fully realise that you have moved. He meets your eyes with a small, soft smile, too tired is he to give you much of anything, but he tries because you're you and Eddie will do anything for you. Including giving you essence from an almost empty cup.

You smile back at him and begin to ease both his leather jacket and his denim vest off his shoulders. Eddie makes a soft noise in the back of his throat which sounds very much like relief soaked in love; you're helping him without him needing to ask because you know him so well. He tips his head forward so he can nuzzle the cold tip of his nose into the warm crook of your neck. Wet tendrils of hair stick to you but you don't wince. It's Eddie. "You're so warm," he mumbles, pressing clumsy kisses to any scrap of skin he can reach.

"You'd be warmer if you got out of these clothes, honey," kisses are pressed to his wet curls, the smell of rain masking the scent of him. "You're soaked. Gonna get sick if you stay here like this."

Eddie shrugs but you know he cares. No matter how tired or upset or angry he is, a part of Eddie always cares. If he held his heart in his hands, the heat of all the love he holds within would burn him. To prompt him into getting in the shower, you step away from him, which only makes Eddie whine as he steps back into you while also pulling you closer. It's a collision of hearts as much as it is bodies. He's been without you all day and now he's home, you're stepping away from him. A part of him wants to pout, but you seem to read his mind and encourage him to sort himself out again, "quicker you shower, the quicker we can cuddle!"

You can feel the heat of him even through how wet his clothes are, and how damp your own are. You can get changed while Eddie's showering - these were freshly put on, but you will never pass up a chance to hold Eddie.

"Promise, baby?" This time, he does pout, and you kiss him, once, twice, thrice, four times, because once is never enough for either of you. He's so tired and so are you and the both of you just want to rest. But only with each other; home is where the heart is, and you both followed yours to here.

"Pinky."

You shake your pinkies to seal the promise, and ten minutes later, you have yourself an Eddie sized koala on top of you.

So, really, ten minutes later, you have it all.

eddie baby @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @heydreamchild @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @m00nlight101

[yourimagines]

imagine andrew garfield proposing

I love him so much, he’s one of my first celebrity crushes 🙈

Future

* English is not my first language I apologise

*Gif is not mine

* Triggers: anxiety , love, fluff

Andrew POV

“Let’s go.” She says with a smile on her face while she grabs my hand and guides us through the crowd. “Easy my love, I don’t want to lose you.” She was giggling as she squeezed us through the crowd. “You’re not going to lose me Andrew, just keep walking.” She guides us to a much quieter spot in the park. “Why does everyone else have the same idea as us Andrew.” She slightly complains about it as she wipes her hair out of her face. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the perfect day to eat some ice cream and hang out in the park?” I joked about it as she gently shook her head. “Ha ha very funny.” She rolls playfully her eyes at me and sits down. “Come, sit with me.” She pats on the ground and I crouched down, slowly sitting down and moving closer to her. “I’m always funny.” “Sure, whatever makes you happy.” I smiled as I carefully tucked my hand in my jacket, touching the black box with a ring in it. ‘Just wait for the perfect moment.’

We both walked back to my apartment as she was talking about her next trip. “Does it fit in your schedule? I mean I could postpone it for a week or so.” I shook my head and smiled at her with a goofy smile on my face. “You always fit in my schedule.” I wrapped my arm tighter around her and pulled her closer, placing a small soft kiss on her head. “Andrew, you making me shy.” Her cheeks warmed up and a shy smile was on her lips. “Sorry,I just love making you smile like this.” I was fiddling with the box in my jacket as we just walked through the streets in London. “Are you okay?” She was looking at me with a concerned expression on her face. “Yeah…I’m okay, why?” She shook carefully her head and shrugged her shoulders. “You just looked a bit nervous.” I smiled and kissed her. “I’m always nervous around you.”

She was sleeping in my bed with my T-shirt on. Her legs were exposed and her head was lying on my pillow. ‘God she’s beautiful.’ Her skin looked so soft and she looked so peaceful. ‘I love her….’ I carefully pulled out the box and opened it, looking at the ring I got for her. ‘I hope she wants to marry me like I want to marry her….’ Her body slightly moved and I immediately closed the box and pushed it back in my jacket. “Andrew?” She said in her sleepy voice. “Yes darling?” She tiredly patted next to her. “Are you coming to bed as well?” “Of course my love.”

She was enthusiastic about us going to the shopping mall because she really needs some new clothes. “Andrew look at this.” Her face was all lit up with joy as she was showing me a beautiful dress. “You should try it.” I said to her as she was admiring the dress. “You think?” I nodded at her. “Yes, go on just try it my love.” She shyly nods and smiles. “Okay, only because you say so.”

After a long day of shopping I took her out for some dinner. “You sure you’re not cold?” I asked her for the tenth time. “I’m fine, it’s just a little breeze.” She rubbed her arms and I couldn’t watch her shivering like this anymore. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and held her close to me as we walked to the restaurant.

We were sitting in a beautiful room, all alone. She was looking around and smiled. “Did you did this for us Andrew?” I smiled and played dump. “I don’t know what you’re talking about my love.” She giggles and playfully slaps my hand. “This, us sitting in this beautiful room, all alone.” I nodded and grabbed her hand, bringing it carefully to my lips. “I asked for a quiet seat to eat because you had a busy and stressful day today.” I placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. “Andrew…you didn’t have to.” I shrugged and just smiled at her, she giggles softly and looks down at the menu. Me on the other hand, I was getting nervous again as we were having lovely time. ‘Is this the perfect time to asked her?’ I looked around and saw nobody was around. ‘Good, she hates to draw attention to herself.’ I gently squeezed the box in my jacket and bite slightly my cheek. ‘Just do it.’

Y/n POV

He was looking nervous again, like he’s been doing for a while now. ‘Maybe it’s because he’s awkward and a shy guy?’ He let go of my hand and went nervously through his hair. “Andrew are you okay?” I asked as he let out a big sigh. “Yes I’m fine…” he smiles and looks again around us. “What’s wrong?” I looked around us as well, as we were still alone. “Y/n…” he breaths out and slowly gets on one knee. My heart stopped and my tears swelled up with tears. “Andrew…” I said softly. He smiled and grabbed my hand again.

“You are the best person I ever met in my life. My love…you are like a shot of espresso bathed in sunlight, you are incredibly energetic and enthusiastic and….I’m ready to wake up every morning with you by my side, to share my boring life with your fun and playful life. Y/n do you want to marry me?” His other hand came out of his pocket, holding a small black box. His hands were slightly trembling as he opened the box, revealing a beautiful ring. He was still smiling at me, admiring me as I slowly nodded.

“Andrew…of course I want to marry you, I want to be with you too.” My tears finally fell down my cheeks and he squeezed gently my hand. “I love you my darling.” “I love you Andrew.” He carefully placed the ring on my finger. “I can’t wait to call you my wife.” He carefully got up and grabbed both of my hands. “I can’t wait to call you my husband.” He gave me a soft kiss on my lips and we both smiled at each other the whole night like two teenagers who just fell in love with each other.

[sciderman]

How do you feel about different animated Peters? Do you have a favorite out of them?

hooh man, i know i say that i've consumed every little bit of spider-man media ever but it's really not true actually, and i think the thought of trying to watch every single animated version of peter parker kind of makes my brain explode. there are so many. i didn't actually grow up on spider-man cartoons, i only really got into spider-man comics in my late teens so my point-of-reference for peter parker will kind of always be the 616 comics, first-and-foremost.

i did watch a bit of ultimate spider-man as it was airing and i probably am one of the very few people on the planet who's kind of oddly soft on it! i have complicated feelings about ultimate spider-man. i feel about it the same kind of way that i feel about way's deadpool run. that it's an entirely annoying depiction of the character that is full to the brim with irritating jokes that don't land and package up the character to be a nutszo joke-a-minute lols random haha type deal but - i see oddly sincere and sympathetic and self-aware moments in there that make me inexplicably fond of that particular portrayal.

i don't know - i actually really love it when peter's portrayed as an actual weirdo. not the uptight square-boy you usually see, or this quirky boy-scout who's just kind of bland and cute and nerdy - but a peter parker that is actually unapologetically annoying. like you can't stand to be with him. i kind of love to see it. i don't know, i want him to be annoying. i think he should be annoying. and i love that he's fucking insane. like, objectively. he's not a sane man. he's adhd incarnate. and he's stupid. he has heroic moments, yeah, but he's also stupid and a jerk. i don't know. i'm probably giving it way too much credit, but compared to what came after (disney xd's spider-man (2017), looking at you) it's fun and kind of a very weird departure to your usual spider-man fare. deadpool appears in this show for one singular episode also so naturally thta is enough to make my brain go brrr.

(i've actually been really wanting to write a fic set in this universe. it's a universe i'm kind of interested in exploring, actually. been rotating it in my mind for a really, really long time. i'm almost ashamed to admit it, but every version of wade wilson fires up my brain, and i'm really, really interested in fleshing out this strange, i-was-a-child-soldier-turned-teenage-mercenary wade wilson. sorry. off-topic now. spider-man. we're meant to be talking about spider-man.)

disney xd's spider-man (2017) sorry you are so ugly and so boring. she doesn't exist to me. i hate that stupid nerdy off-brand tom holland ass twink with the green eyes. hate her. she is so boring. and her voice is even worse than drake bell (how could that be possible)

60's spider-man fucks. binged it so hard during my college days because it put me into the flow-state while i was working on my animation projects. i love that square boy. i love how macho he sounds when he's in the suit. i love his stupid fucking spider with the six legs. i love that they didn't have the budget for the extra two legs. i love him. he got me through college. almost tempted to do a stream of 60s spider-man so you all can enjoy it with me. it's a treasure. and thank you, 60s spider-man, for all the reaction images.

spectacular spider-man is very beloved, and i NEAARLY watched it all the way through, but – i don't know, i kind of just... don't like that peter parker very much. i couldn't tell you why. he's just a little boring to me. maybe it's the same criticism people slam onto andrew garfield's spider-man, the "he's too cool" argument. he's just not cringefail enough. he's kind of a bit boring. and his stupid SHIRT TAG that is NEVER TUCKED IN makes me FROTH at the MOUTH. i didn't wind up finishing the series because the love-triangle stuff just got way too exhausting for me. usually i eat up the peter parker drama but this particular case it really is a "why on earth is everyone in love with him. he's so boring." kind of situation. sure, it's a universal constant, but in this series it really is true. i wouldn't waste my time with him. sorry. mid. 5/10 peter parker portrayal. but the art and animation and theme song fuck.

i don't think i've watched enough of the other series to talk about them - which i feel kind of embarrassed about. i wanted to watch the animated series (1994) but just - never got around to it. i just prefer the comic-book format over animation, funnily. the irony, of me being an animator by trade, but preferring the medium of comic books. but like - i don't know. i prefer books over movies too. i just like doing more brain-work. it's why i like to write and draw more than i like to watch things. i don't like passive consumption. i want to put my brain to work. so - soooo, when it comes to watching things, i'm kind of terrible at it.

i think i should do a massive research session where i watch every spider-man series (or at least as much of them as my brain is willing to) - so i can do a comprehensive ranking of all peter parkers. if i have the time for that sort of thing (i don't.)

one day, maybe, one day. it could make a very fun video essay. i'd love to make a video essay, one day.