#migraine helper

[imwritesometimes]

tonight's dinner theme is:

[nightdragonfly-arts]

Hi! I hope you're doing ok i haven't seen you around a lot n hope things are going ok for you!! ❤️

HI! Thank you for your consideration haha! I just couldn't access to this blog until i realise that i had a key in my phone (clown music intensify) So after a year and a half i finally here lmao. Funny thing that I already choose to finally change my silly nickname and now i dunno what to do maybe change it here and delete new blog because can't deny - there're too much shit and organisation i did is good and do it again is nauseous.

And, well, after my country invaded Ukraine things always are not ok honestly, so I hope whoever see this post if you can - donate to United24 or help ukrainians refuges in local areas. The war is still going and help is always needed. If not for army but humanitarian is always good option.

[ingredientsonline]

9 Different Types of Magnesium and Their Benefits

[mortuarymorticia]

[ 🤕🩹❤️‍🩹 ] ——— [ 🤕🩹❤️‍🩹 ]

support & normalize chronically-ill carers. 🤍

— 🤕 be open to accommodations when ur carer is having a pain flare, like a chair next to the tub for them to sit when they run u a bath. have a pillow ready if they are kneeling to tie ur shoes or snap up a onesie.

—— 🩹 offer to help out more! clean off ur plate without asking, double down on chores, maybe take one of theirs off their plate. doing things without asking will make u feel like baba’s little helper & also probably be much appreciated.

——— ❤️‍🩹 spend some time nourishing them the way they nourish u. temple massages with tiger balm for migraines or an ice pack & a scalp massage. lotion their feet & ankles if they are swollen. rewrap their bandages for them.

———— 🩹 incorporate their mobility aids into ur regressive relationship, such as drawing them with their wheelchair in pictures or covering their cane with stickers! (with permission, of course.) normalize their illness as just a part of who they are.

————— 🤍 most importantly, remember that ur carer is human just like u & has limits, even if they feel like a superhero to u. be sure to remind them every day that their illness doesn’t define their ability to be a good caretaker.

[ 🤕🩹❤️‍🩹 ] ——— [ 🤕🩹❤️‍🩹 ]

[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 8

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: billy hargrove x reader, smut, oral sex (f receiving), physical pain, hospital mention, dirty talking

wc: 5.4k

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

A/N: I entered with a bang today. Sorry it took so long! I had a lot of work going on but I finally managed to write a few things! Don't forget to go to my profile's masterlist to see my other works!

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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Chapter 8

“Shit… Shit, shit, shit!” He groaned in pain, the bindings on his wrists and ankles onto the hospital bed not helping with his writhing. 

He felt as if he were engulfed in flames, as if there was lava all around him, his body ablaze in a red crimson color, and his belly felt a pressure that he never felt before. He didn’t know what was going on. He was at his home, playing his guitar, and then he just felt feverish.

Why was he in the hospital? Wait, it’s not even a hospital, it looks like a private room of some sort, but he couldn’t hear anyone outside. His sight finally focused and he looked to his side, seeing Wayne getting up from his seat with a pained frown in his face, rushing towards his nephew.

“Why am I here Wayne?” 

“They’re specialists in this Eddie, but you’ll be okay son, I promise I will keep you safe.”

A doctor, or that’s what Eddie thought he was because of the white robe, entered the room. He was sort of bald, dark hair, beard and had glasses on, but another shot of pain surged in his belly and he tugged onto the restraints of his wrists. He felt a warm hand press on his forehead to push him back down to the pillow and he saw Wayne’s pained expression looking down on him.

“I will keep you safe.”

Eddie’s eyes shot open, sweat all over his body as heavy breaths left his mouth. He looked over at his clock, signaling 2 AM, sharp. He groaned, sitting up on his bed and that’s when he felt the strong migraine that started to develop. His hand shot towards his head, and he cursed under his breath, feeling warmth expanding towards his chest.

He picked up his phone and immediately opened instagram. Numerous accounts of random girls popped on his profile and his stories, and he started watching them one by one. One posted 2 hours ago, the other 3 hours ago, the next one posted a story 6 hours ago, and then he finally came across Tara. Posted herself drinking at a club 21 minutes ago. 

He winced as he looked up to the ceiling, he knew that the ache was not leaving him unless he did this. He looked back down towards his phone and sent a text to the girl.

‘PIck you up in 20?’ 

Straight forward, no pleasantries, he didn’t care for them really. These women, he just had them for these kinds of cases, not that they knew about it, and the sex was always mediocre, but it helped. It was always empty, thrusting into a hole, no excitement to it, no real attraction except the one they had for him.

He sighed as he waited for the response. He felt another sting in the side of his head as well as if a punch was directed into his belly. 

“Son of a fucking bitch.” He grabbed the ponytail in his nightstand, putting his hair in a bun. Always conditioned to this part of him that wanted to take over his body. Always feeling weak thanks to all the medication he has to take. Always feeling like an animal because of these things he does to women who just want to have a good time.

And he was never satisfied.

But they all had to do. They just simply had to do it for now.

His phone made a ‘Ting’ sound and he looked down on it.

‘Always rdy 4 u bby ;)’

Eddie rolled his eyes, getting up from his bed to get dressed with a groan. It’s just a hole, just a helper, that’s all he thinks about. That’s all it is. When was the last time he had an enjoyable time with someone else? His pleasure was never equal to his partner’s, so he often wondered if he will always be the problem of his demise.

For now, that’s what it seems like.

You fixed your skirt as you took a deep breath in, clearing your throat before going into the meeting room where your client was alongside your boss and other editors.

Be professional. It’s your workplace. Behave.

You opened the door to find your Boss, Liana, sitting at the very end of the table. On her right was a man in a suit, then you found your co-editor in this article, Tony, and then on Liana’s left side was Billy Hargrove, smiling at you, no, smirking at you with mischief in his eyes as the chattering of the room dimmed down as you entered.

Your belly filled with knots as you locked eyes with him, clearing your throat slightly as you noticed that the only available seat was right next to him. 

“Good morning.” You called out and Liana beamed up at you, calling out your name. You had an exceptional relationship with your boss, it was far from friendship, but the trust was there as well as confidentiality. She had trusted you with small projects, then bigger ones, and now this would be the second huge project you would do for the magazine, but this time it is only you. Last project you shared it with Robin, when she actually put a little bit of effort.

But Robin took this job because it paid, not because it was her long term dream, and you understood that. You actually studied Fashion and made your way to get an Editor degree. Your passion stood here, in the background of the flashes of cameras and interviews. You preferred pen and paper, to voice out the new trends to long term designers, or show off new ones to the world. Entrepreneurs, even people you had scouted on TikTok and Instagram.

You wanted to shove the great chain industries away, for fresh material. Balenciaga, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, that’s just what they are. Names. Fashion wise it was too old, too bland, too antique. And then, on TikTok, small businesses of high fashion popped up, people that made these dresses and clothes out of pure love and ambition. You wanted that in the new world, in the new generation. 

But for now, you have to stick to big companies, and hope that next project you will be able to talk Liana into bringing a new designer for the photoshoots.

“Please, take a seat! We are discussing our meetings with our next clients.” You walked around the table, taking a seat next to Billy, who shot you a smile. Liana interrupted again in order to present you to Billy, thinking you two haven’t met before. You were about to correct her that you actually met Billy before by coincidence, but Billy just grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles, making your cheeks redden slightly at the gesture.

“Beautiful name. Cannot be happier that a woman like yourself will be guiding this project.” He says into your hand, his warm breath hitting your skin which sends goosebumps all over your body and you could only stare at his blue eyes. Liana chuckled under her breath and that made you snap out, pushing the butterflies in your belly aside, taking your hand away from him.

“Nice meeting you too, Mr. Hargrove. And thank you for that flattery.” You finish saying as formal as possible, sitting down right next to him, putting your suitcase on top of the table. Liana sat down again with a content sigh as you fished your papers out of the leathery case.

“Okay, so, we know Curtis Delore wants more details on these designs, wanting to change it a bit to put on you Mr. Hargrove. He wants to buy the blueprints on these–”

“Actually…” You cut Liana off and your boss already knew you went a step ahead, a smile brooding on her red lips. Liana can always trust your diligent work, and she could see the passion you have for this industry and what it could be. So, she let you continue. “I took the time to contact Millie, and I may have sent her a copy of this article so that she could pass it onto her boss.”

“I already love the mention of Millie.” Liana says and Billy and his manager only looked with confused faces to one another, to then go back at you.

“I got a call this morning from Kim Jones himself that he wants to purchase the blueprint for the next collection and he is also very interested in the model himself for the campaign.” You say with a smirk on your face and Liana simply cheered in excitement. That meant that the design is now valued almost ten times than what it was going to be originally purchased at. Billy was still confused and looked at his manager, Ralph, who cleared his throat to catch both of your attention.

“Excuse me Ladies, who is Kim Jones?” He asked and you slid one of your papers towards Billy and then one towards Ralph. His eyes bulged out of their sockets as he looked up at Billy, who almost had the same expression in his face. 

“You got me to model for Dior? Dior Homme?” Billy slowly turned his head to look at you and you still had the snicker in the inside of your cheek, giving him a shrug.

“It’s a possibility, if you do desire to take it that is.” Billy looked at his manager, then smiled widely, throwing himself back on his chair, running his hands through his hair out of pure happiness. In his career, the only big gig he got was the Chanel advertisement, clothes wise, he didn’t get high couture brands to pick him as their face or body. 

But, the Chief Designer of Dior Homme was actually interested in him. 

He felt his chest almost exploding as he looked at the table and saw the three people all around him chatting excitedly. They were talking about numbers, and possibilities but Billy’s eyes could only look at you. How your mouth moved, how your eyes sparkled with ambition and he couldn’t help but drown in the sound of your voice.

And oh, how he wants to fuck you into his mattress for what you just did for him.

He really wants to show you how grateful he is. How happy you just made him by giving him an opportunity like this, despite him trying to make a move on you. You didn’t take it as offensive, and you didn’t push him away completely because of it either, you didn’t butcher his opportunity to show him a lesson, but you even gave him a bigger chance. 

And he really wants to make it up to you.

Once the percentage of the gainings were talked about and how Billy’s patronage with Dior would give a small percent to the company, the meeting finally ended. 

“Ralph, may I speak with you for a second? It’s just a legal matter.” Liana says with a smile as she guides Ralph to her office. You sighed in contentment, your insides up in flames at how well everything went as you turned into the hall to go to the elevators. You cannot wait to tell Robin about this, or maybe you shouldn’t. You don’t want to rub this in her face, because this would have given her a lot of commission if she were still in the team.

Maybe you can tell her as if it’s not a big deal, or just simply not tell her anything at all. But you needed to tell someone, because this was a big step, and you couldn’t– 

Your thoughts were completely cut off as you felt a hand grip onto your bicep, guiding you into a storage room that was near the hallway you were crossing. Your eyes widened in the darkness, brazing onto your suitcase to swing it, when the lights turned on above you. You turned around to find blue eyes staring down at you with an intensity that was making your knees grow weak. 

The sound of a lock was heard in the room as you took a step away from the man. He was a model, yes, but what if he was a psychopath? You didn’t know the guy, and now he has you locked up in a storage room in the building where you work. 

“Um, Mr. Hargrove–” He put his hands up for you to stay silent as he looked at you, a smile drawing on his lips which was making the butterflies in your stomach flutter all around.

“Billy…” He reminded you and you blinked while staring at him, feeling your throat going dry as you saw how his eyes moved around as he tried to find the words to say. Was he nervous? “I wanted to thank you. I mean, apart from Ralph, no one ever put that much faith in me, or my work before.”

You were stunned. He was actually grateful for what you did, and that made your chest go warm at his actions. It saddened you slightly that no one paid attention to him before, because Billy was beautiful, and sexy when he had to be. He has multiple faces that people can possibly use, and you were happy to be the one to introduce him to that chain of possibilities. 

“It’s my job Billy… But I am glad this can help you out now, and in the future.” He gave you a nod as you kept smiling at him but that smile slowly lowered as he took one step closer, tentatively. His hands reached for your suitcase, taking it from your hands to put it on the floor. Your eyes widened and your throat went dry as he looked down on you. 

His eyes were lustful, but the tint of red on his cheeks told you that he was excited. The gaze he was looking at you with was enough to make your core clench, and your belly burn with intensity as he took another step towards you. You didn’t notice that you were taking your own steps back, not until you felt the cold wall against your back. 

You have to talk, you really have to talk, tell him that he is crossing the line, that you were sort of his boss in this situation, but his eyes. There was something in his eyes that was not filled with lust.

Billy was admiring you right now. 

“If you’d let me, Mousy…” He slowly starts kneeling in front of you, your eyes widening as your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight. This supermodel, this way too handsome of a man, was kneeling in front of you, and your whole body broke into a sweat. “I would like to show you just how grateful I am…”

“Y-You don’t have to do it, it’s part of my job–” His right hand raised up, brushing on the side of your left thigh, slowly, fingertips as light as feathers, and your skin grew goosebumps thanks to it. You shivered at the touch, and your belly turned with anticipation at what could happen right now.

“I want to. You don’t know how much I want to.” And Billy doesn’t say it, but he never wants to. But you, you are different. He wants to please you, ultimately make you see stars, helping you to relax, to untangle yourself from the everyday nerves. You gulped and almost let out a small groan when his fingers dug into the skin of your thigh. 

“B-Billy, I don’t know if we should–” You tried to stop this, but you didn’t really want to. Your excitement and your nerves were moving all around your body, going through your veins from head to toe, warming you up and making your heart pump even faster to keep you conscious. 

“Let me eat you Mousy… I need to taste you, god how I want to taste you…” He wasn’t even looking at you as his fingers creeped under your skirt, going up, leaving a trail of fire at each graze of his touch on your skin. You looked up at the ceiling as your breath started picking up. 

“I won’t do anything to you later.” You state, putting your foot down to see if he will stop his movements when he realizes he is not getting anything out of this. But your eyes widened when you felt his fingers hook with the elastic of your underwear, and slowly slide it down your legs. You looked down to see blue irises staring directly into you, a lustful look hiding behind his black blown pupils and he said the next words without a smirk, a smile, or anything at all that would tell you he was playing with you.

“I am doing this because I want to. Not because I expect anything, Mousy.” All your life, you met men that wanted to take or wanted something in return for what they did to you. Women were a different thing, there was no way around it when it came to that, one has to get off the other and that’s final, but men really don’t care about that. 

He urged your right foot to step out of one of the holes of your underwear and then you felt him raise your left leg up, your breath getting stuck in your throat as he hooked your under knee over his shoulder. You gasped when you realized he was staring directly at your center, and you tried to pull your skirt down for him to not see, a deep blush covering your entire body at how open you felt.

He tsked at you, and with his right hand he gripped your hand that was pulling your skirt down and looked up at you with a shake of his head. Your underwear was dangling off your left ankle and your hand was moved away by him as your other helped you stay stable against the wall. He smirked as he bunched up your tight skirt up, going over your ass so he could have a clear view in front of him

In all honesty, you could have avoided this situation. He didn’t seem like a guy who would take a No like a complete offense. He would have let you go the moment you struggled a little bit, but you didn’t. Because you felt the desire the moment he closed the door on the two of you. The tension that has been building up for the past week. 

And wanted nothing else than for him to continue.

“Fuck– Let me thank you properly Mousy… I’ll make you feel real good.” He moved forward, and you felt your whole body shake in anticipation as his breath felt closer and closer on you. Your eyes widened when he blew a bit of air on you, and you realized thanks to the coldness that you were already wet. And he didn’t even touch you yet.

He chuckled as he saw the glistening of your slick, licking his lips as he pressed a kiss above your clit, just gently, teasingly, and you bit on your bottom lip to hold back the whine that wanted to come out of your mouth. He raised his hands up, and got hold of your ass, making your lower body lean forward to him and your hand immediately shot to his head as the other held onto the wall because you needed stability.

His smirk widened as he looked up at you and you stared down at him, alarmingly, because you realized that you fell into it. You grabbed onto his head. A clear invitation. And thanks to that, he was moving forward to press a kiss on your throbbing nub, making you squeal slightly. 

He trembled with excitement at the sound, almost as if he were an animal tasting his prey. But you were no prey. You were a prize. A beautiful prize. And he wanted it, he really did want it. 

His excitement though, betrayed his teasing, and his tongue flicked out to finally get a long lick up your slit, tasting you, and you threw your head back at the sensation, a groan getting caught in your throat. He moaned at your taste, taking another lick for good measure, making your hand clench on his hair. 

“You taste so sweet… Fuck, I think I’m gonna get addicted to you.” And like that, he went in. All in. His tongue lapping your wet folds as if he were a starved man, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue every now and then and you couldn’t help the breathy moans that escaped your lips. 

Holy shit. Billy Hargrove was eating you out. Out of his pure pleasure.

He gripped into the flesh of your ass to pull you even closer in order for his tongue to go even deeper and finally shove it inside of you to taste your walls. His nose was hitting on your clit just right as he moved his head to the thrust of his tongue. You threw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, bliss filling your body as you tried to keep your moans as low as possible.

Your grip in his hair shifted, tightening to then let go to rub it gently. He pulled out of your mouth to now solely focus on your clit, putting his lips around it to suck on it while flicking the tip of his tongue against it, and that made you moan out a little louder.

“Fuck, Billy–” He moaned against you as you called his name as if it were a prayer. He let go of your clit, to repeatedly flick it with his tongue, making your hips shake slightly at the feeling. Oh, he was going to be the death of you today, but how long has it been since someone took care of you in this way?

How long has it been since someone cared enough to do so?

His left hand left your ass cheek, to move to your front. He was sucking onto your clit as his index finger touched your slit, coating it in your fluids to lubricate it before pushing it inside, slowly and tentatively. You took a sharp intake of breath at the intrusion, but loved it nonetheless, the grip you had in his hair tightening at the feeling. His tongue never stopped moving on you as his finger started going in and out, in a slow pace. 

You were trying to keep your moans as low as you could but you had nothing to cover your mouth with. Both hands were occupied with something. One was on the wall to keep you from falling and the other was in blonde curls. You wanted more, you needed more. Your belly was starting to pulse, and burn for him.

He pulled away from your clit to take a look at you, and what he saw made the bulge in his pants, which was already hard enough for the buttons to pop out of his jeans, simply twitch. Your face was completely flushed, your eyes half closed from the pleasure you were feeling, and breathy moans were escaping your lips.

But his name, his name was coming out of them as well.

“Can you feel it doll? How thankful I am for what you did?” He licked his lips with a smirk as you whined at his words. He will have his chance on being the one in control some other time. Right now, he had to show you how happy you made him today. So he will return the favor. 

“Billy, I need to…” Your words got stuck in your throat as his finger kept thrusting into you but it wasn’t enough. The squelching sound of your wetness could be heard in the small room, making your belly turn in embarrassment and arousal at the same time. He hummed as he pressed a kiss to the thigh that was draped over his shoulder.

“What do you need, Mousy? I’ll give it to you… Anything you need. Anything you want.” And there was a hidden message behind those words, a message that only Billy knew about. He nibbled on your flesh to urge you to talk and you gasped slightly at the bite, looking down at him.

“I want to… I want to cum, please…” You beg of him and he almost fainted at how good you sound, at how pornographic your voice is like this. Breathless, with choked up moans in it. With his name stuck on your lips, your legs trembling over him, and he was glad he decided to show up to the meeting today. He was gonna let Ralph handle it, meet you afterwards as he snuck away from his manager, but this was much better. So much better.

He added his middle finger now with his index one, and your mouth fell agape, feeling the tight coil in your belly starting to snap slowly. He started moving his fingers, thrusting into you slowly at first and he guided his head towards your clit, sucking on it to add to the stimulation. Your eyes widened at the feeling to then clench them closed, your other hand gripping onto his hair as well as your back held you against the wall.

“Fuck! Billy– You’re so good, what the fu–” You almost moaned loudly, but you held it in as soon as you opened your mouth for it. He curled his fingers inside of you, his pace increasing and you were grinding your hips against his face now, your hands gripping his hair tightly to push him into you, for him to keep going, for him to keep making you feel so wonderfully blissful right now, for him to keep moving on you, for him to keep showing you how grateful he is to you.

“Cum on my face baby, come on, I can feel it…” He says into you with a smirk on his lips before attacking your clit again with his tongue. Your breathing became too heavy, your chest going up and down as the knot grew in your belly, and it burned, and it was unbearable until it finally snapped. 

One of your hands flew to your mouth, the other holding Billy’s hair still, pushing him into you as your walls clenched around his fingers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tilted your head back, almost hitting yourself against the wall. You were seeing white, then flashes of stars all around you as he kept shaking his head against you, helping you to ride your orgasm.

He took a deep breath in, breathing heavy when he felt your hand release his hair a bit. Your left leg was shaking over him and he was blown out by how responsive you were to him. He smirked, leaning over to take a long lick of your juices that were already dripping down your inner thighs. You winced at the overstimulation, looking down at him through teary eyes. You gripped onto his hair again, and motioned him to stop.

“Too much– Please…” You were breathless. You didn’t expect your day to turn out like this at all, but here you were. And you didn’t wish to be anywhere else at all. Billy pulled away from you, putting your left leg onto the floor, but not before slipping your underwear out of your ankle. You almost fell, feeling your legs shake because of the aftershock of your orgasm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, getting up from the floor to face you again.

His knees hurt, his jaw was sore, but his mouth was filled of you, and he wanted more. He needed more.

“Did my thanks go through?”  He asked with a smirk to his face and you looked up at him, with half hooded eyes, your pupils still dilated from the pleasure you just received. His eyes almost widened at the sight. He wanted to kiss you, really badly, taste your lips, make you taste yourself in his mouth. You gave him a tired smirk, making him raise an eyebrow up.

“It did Mr. Hargrove.” Your breath was slowly catching up on you, and you realized your skirt was still up, and you pulled it down, to then look at him again. “Can you give me back my underwear?”

“What underwear?” He says with a sly smirk on his lips that it makes you tremble with desire once again. How did he do it so easily? The butterflies in your stomach reappeared to wreak havoc once more inside of you. 

“The black panties that are on your hand?” You say to him and he slowly puts said panties into the backpocket of his denim jeans, his face coming closer as he talked.

“You came commando today, Mousy.” He was keeping them. He was going to keep your underwear to do god knows what later on. This man, who didn’t ask for anything back right now from you, ignoring the hard bulge that was in his pants, and he just did it out of pure pleasure and also because of the lust he holds for you. You were speechless at his actions, because never once you had a man be this passionate to you. Never this filthy.

He was staring at you, his face as close as he could, breath grazing all of your face and you wanted to dive into his lips, feel them on you, wanting nothing more than to feel how his mouth linked with yours in a frenzied kiss. But he was waiting, patiently, because the line was crossed, but not quite. The next step was yours to take.

“I want to thank you too… How about Friday?” 

His smirk grew as he heard your words, licking the inside of his bottom lip, and his chest puffed in victory. You knew that this might be a one night stand. That his fixation with you will be gone as soon as you two have sex, but you needed him. You wanted him. Fuck the game of cat and mouse.

“Friday sounds perfect… And trust me, you don’t have to thank me Mousy… But if you insist.” He pulled away from you, fixing his hair with a wipe of his hand through it. You gulped as you stared at him and he kept his eyes on yours. He leaned over again, his instincts wanting to betray him, but he stopped as his lips graced yours. Your breath hitched at the touch, and your skin was burning from how aroused you were feeling for him. “God, I want to fucking kiss you.” 

“Friday…” Was your quick response. You knew that if he kissed you now, your one night stand would be at work, and with all honesty, you wanted a whole night with him. You wanted to be able to hear him grunt, moan, and call your name, but you also wanted to scream to let him know how you were feeling.

Because you know, Billy Hargrove was gonna make you scream. And you could hardly wait for it.

“Friday.” He pulled off you completely this time, and you felt the cold embracing you at the lack of body heat. He backed off from you, a smile on his lips as he unlocked the door, giving you a small wink before sliding out and closing the door behind him. The room being void of his cologne now, and you could only smell it 

You finally let yourself slam against the wall, your body shaking as you pressed your hands to your face, feeling the strong heat that was on your skin, smiling widely at what you just experienced. You felt a cold breeze in between your legs, and you clenched your eyes at the feel of your arousal on your inner thighs. You had to go wash yourself.

But that didn’t make your smile falter one bit. You were still trying to believe what had just happened, and not because it was Billy Hargrove. That was a bonus. Someone actually made you feel pleasure, after so long of faking orgasms, of making up excuses to not meet with bad hookups, after taking care of your needs by yourself.

You had to thank Billy properly. It was the right thing to do.

End of chapter 8

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A/N: I know the smut it's not with who you would want it to be, but we need some backstory before we get to the juicy bits u kno. I will avoid future smut with Billy to focus on Eddie, this was just to introduce him like this into Reader's life.

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[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose

masterlist

part two

“This is the Greater Anglia service to Bury st Edmunds. Calling at Diss, Ipswich, Elmswell, Thurston and Bury st Edmunds.” 

The familiar voice of the train announcer startles Olive awake, her head banging against the strong plastic window. She finds that, embarrassingly, she'd been drooling and she wipes her chin with disgust. Pulling out a compact mirror from her handbag, she takes stock of her bleary red eyes, flushed cheeks and swollen lips, groaning at her rough appearance. All this was the result of a hangover, due to a celebration of her leaving the city the night prior. She had known it was a mistake the second she had agreed to having a going away party the very night before moving back to her hometown. Unfortunately, her fuck around and find out nature had consequences yet again, the movement of the train causing her stomach to churn, her insides doing somersaults and a subtle belch leaving an aftertaste of cheap cider clinging to her tongue. 

The countryside whizzes past the window as the train picks up speed from its previous stop, Olive trying her best to avoid looking at it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wishes to be anywhere but here - here on this train, moving back to her hometown after finding a job after drama school didn't work out, her parents being extremely blasé about what she would do or where she would go next. They'd packed up and moved to South Africa on a whim six months prior, leaving Olive even more lost and confused than she already was after being thrust into adulthood and self sufficiency. It wasn't until Grandma Pearl had called two weeks ago, saying she needed an extra pair of hands at home while her regular helper Joan adjusted to widowhood. Olive had agreed - very begrudgingly, however. The thought of going back home after all this time had caused Olive's shoulders to seize up, the tension wracking her body.

“Wow, Olive Lewis!” a voice cries from across the carriage. Turning around, Olive sees a redheaded man walking cockily towards her. It's only when he's right in front of her and she smells his familiar scent that she recognizes him. “Long time!” 

“It sure has been, Kyle. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, good, good, thanks. You here to visit?”

“No, actually,” Olive says, gesturing towards her two large suitcases sat in the chairs opposite her. “I'm moving back. Moving in with Pearl for a little while.”

"Shit,” he says, his eyes suddenly full of sympathy. “I'm sorry things didn't work out.”

“Nah, don't be. It's okay. I think I need it, anyway. London's too loud, too overwhelming. Glad to be back.” It couldn't sound more untrue, despite the smile she'd plastered on her face. 

“Maybe we can grab a drink? Like old times.”

“Oh, yeah, Kyle. Cos that went so well the first time.” She blinks up at him through your lashes, lips pursed before pushing a breath out and smiling. “I'd like that,” she says. “Let me get settled and I'll call you. Same number?”

“Same number,” he responds, before beginning to walk away. “See ya, Olive.”

"Bye, Kyle!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she murmurs under her breath the second he's out of earshot. She'd been back in the county not even for half an hour and already the ghosts of her past were back to haunting her. Laying her head on the window and willing this migraine to disappear, she breathes out slowly, just wanting this day to be over. 

The train stops with a sudden jolt, Olive's head whacking against the plastic yet again. “Fuck me!” She yells, before staring apologetically at the other passengers. 

“Emergency stop. Cattle on train line. Thank you for your patience.” The booming, deep voice of the train conductor over the tannoy causes everyone to jump. So bloody British, a lady stands up and begins offering Murray Mints from a small bag. “We're going to be here a while,” she sings out, passing the bag along row by row. Taking one and smiling weakly in thanks, the nausea disappears the second the sweet is in her mouth. Peering out of the window once again, Olive takes in the place she grew up in, the beautiful green fields a shock to her eyes after living in a mostly gray, drizzly city like London for so long. 

Three dairy cows run along the field, the shell of an airplane stood in the middle of it. Trying her best to remember her local history, Olive recounts the model of the plane: a B-17, from when the Yanks had been stationed at nearby Thorpe Abbotts during the war. Feeling a strange nostalgia for a time she'll never get to experience, she pulls her book from her bag for the first time this journey, once again getting lost in A Midsummer Night's Dream.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @piastrinho

Olive's playlist

part 2

[nocherryblood]

Some of my experiences being undiagnosed autistic as a kid (a very small part of it):

-Did very well in classes, but always got very upset whenever I was even slightly "critized" or told off, and often misinterpreted constrictive feedback or even praise as negative comments. Being told off physically hurt and formed a black hole of shame in my chest. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe and had to try not to cry but it hurt so, so badly- in a physical way, not "in my head", it was a physical, real feeling. I would hold "grudges" (though I wouldn't show it) towards teachers who told me off a lot for something, and back then I thought I was being silly, but looking back on it, I was in physical pain. Yes, not their fault, but I was in pain. Of course I'd feel upset when I'd felt like they'd hurt me. What was a quick "don't talk, please" would have a huge effect on how I felt for the next few weeks, whereas the rest of the class would laugh or shrug it off. I never knew how they could. I was always so behaved that whenever I got told off, the whole class would just go dead silent. Everyone would talk about it- "oh that kid's just got told off, oh my god!"

-I was able to deal with things like an adult ¾ of the time and was very mature for my age (as a child). Always wanted to help and talk to the adults, often being used as a helper or asked to do things because they knew I wouldn't say no. Even in class, if something was hard, I never piped up to say so. Fractured my arm in a P.E. lesson and kept running. They only eventually noticed because I was crying. Parent spoke to them and I cried because I didn't want the teacher to hate me

-Adding to that, I was always a "hypochondriac". That word is the worst word I've ever known. I was always ill, always with a cold, always had "another thing wrong with me". And yes, that was true, I did have a lot of ailments and complaints. Always headaches, migraine, stomachache, etc. But all of that time, I was genuinely not feeling well. Maybe because of school, the stress of unknowingly masking SO MUCH, etc. But I truly felt ill. I knew if I didn't exaggerate, people wouldn't listen. But then it became like the boy who cried wolf. As a kid, I think I felt ill sometimes because I was seeking comfort all the time, and my brain made me ill in order to prompt me to ask for it. And the older I got, the weirder it would seem for me to constantly be asking for comfort and attention, especially when there were really big things going on that people had to pay attention to rather than constantly babying me. So I felt like absolute crap as soon as I left school, because that was one thing that I could do. "There must be something wrong with me... why do I need this much attention? I feel bad... now I feel ill." But alas... boy who cried wolf never got attention after the second time. So I was unwell literally every day

-Adding onto that, one thing I notice with my asd is that I'm very touchy-feely (I prefer to be the one doing the hugging rather than being hugged- but even so if someone comes up to me rather than I come up to them, and wants to give me a hug then I feel so happy). I'm always seeking hugs and reassurance every minute of every second of the day. I feel lonely and rejected even if someone is just genuinely too busy to pay attention to me. I feel bad. I feel guilty for it. But I live on it. I always need reassurance but not everyone can give that or knows that I need it

-Another related thing to that is that I'm often told I "lack common sense". The phrase "smart but no common sense" comes up a lot. Some things just don't occur to me, and it's often interpreted as me being lazy or me being purposefully stupid. And it frustrates me because how can I be being stupid over something I don't know I'm not doing? For example, if you asked me to get ready to go to the shops. I'll get dressed and get my bag on, but I won't remember to pack what I need, to eat something before I go out, I won't want to wear something appropriate for the weather and occasion (e.g. I might wear lots of layers of costume-like clothing- i.e. dressing up/wanting to casual cosplay- on a boiling hot but rainy summer's day just going out for 2 mins to pick up some things at the shop), I'll take hours to get ready and even if I get ready super, super, super early I'll still forget something and/or be super late

-I always try to please people. E.g. if I was writing back and forth with someone, I'd adjust my writing style to match theirs as closely as possible, even going as far as to copy incorrect spellings and grammar. Another example is that I often get myself into things I don't like and force myself to explore all of the things (e.g. books, shows, films, games, etc.) someone wants me to watch or play and make myself miserable just to please them

[doomspaniels]

i realized that i've started to talk to my cat the way you talk to/about your spaniels: I refer to her as my tiniest babie, I call her an unrepentant Creatchure (mostly when knocking things off tall places for attention because she's disgrumpled that I have to work occasionally) and nearly daily I tell her that the world is a glorious place to be a cat, with sunspots and blankets and chin scritchies galore. she even skull snuggles when I'm down and out with migraines! what a good helper. thank you for introducing such fun vocabulary into my animal-keeping world! one day I will have some synchronized sleeping animals, but for now baby theo-cat and I are a formidable twosome. (hopefully photos attached as tax; she's no hypno-spaniel but she is pretty persuasive with her staring)

This is truly marvelous. I've hung on to this ask for a while because it keeps making me smile, but everyone else should get to smile about it too 🥰 Thank you for sharing your theo-cat, she is stunning!

[aftout]

Tell us about the crazy don't starve takes then

TAKE ONE: Wagstaff actually has MANY creatures from the constant hidden away in his lab. MULTIPLE. A lot of them are dead, but the carcasses are still valuable resources. That spider who ate webber got the easy way out, if anything.

TAKE TWO: Wortox is color blind. He’s got Tritanopia, to be more specific: cannot tell the difference between purple & red, pink & yellow, and blue & green. The only reason he knows the exact color of his fur is because of his mama.

TAKE THREE: Genny ends up adopting Wickerbottom’s old cat after finding it roaming about the library’s rubble.

TAKE FOUR: The pigs are actually well-versed in necromancy, hence the reckless rushing into battle and the touchstones.

TAKE FIVE: The pig king is Wilba’s dad. He and Queen Malfalfa got a divorce waaayy back and he ran off to start his own kingdom with his own people; most of which were also affected by the werepig curse.

TAKE SIX: Excessive use of shadow magic makes Maxwell physically sick as well as lowering his sanity. Coming back to his senses after summoning multiple shadow duelists or helpers can— and often does— cause him to vomit.

TAKE SEVEN: On the topic of Maxwell using shadow magic: it’s far from pretty. Nightmare fuel seeps out from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

TAKE EIGHT: Wormwood’s speech patterns are a result in him not being fluent in English. As Alter’s kin, his mother tongue happens to be the language spoken by the ancient civilization.

TAKE NINE: One of Them happens to be everything all at once, a physical form that constantly shifts and morphs so quickly that it can barely be considered physical at all. For one second it’s nothing more than a frog, the next it’s a shadow weaver, and then for just a moment it’ll be the worst version of yourself.

TAKE TEN: The Charlie that actually sits upon the throne is barely intact. Shadows hold her rotting bones together and pure horror seeps out from her slack jaw. The more power she displays as queen, the more her human body wilts.

TAKE ELEVEN: Since Maxwell never had control over every layer of the constant, whatever the Krampii are up to has been unbeknownst to him for ages. All he knows is that their bags have wormhole properties and that unnerves him a bit.

TAKE TWELVE: Willow is Wickerbottom’s granddaughter. Becoming a mother herself at nineteen, Wicker’s relationship with her own daughter was somewhat strained, and they lost contact the second said daughter was old enough to run off on her own. Neither Willow nor Wickerbottom are aware of their shared blood until way later down the line.

TAKE THIRTEEN: If Wanda crosses her eyes, her double vision gives her a fuzzy glance into a mirroring timeline. Doing this gives her awful migraines, though.

TAKE FOURTEEN: Wheeler and Wolfgang end up becoming super good friends! Not only are they training buddies, but Wheeler also helps Wolfgang with his bravery.

TAKE FIFTEEN: Wilba and Wurt overcome their prejudices by bonding over how inaccurately Mermio and Pigliet portrayed their respective peoples. They end up rewriting the book together.

TAKE SIXTEEN: Jack, Wendy&Abigail’s mom, and Genny end up becoming close friends. They work together trying to expose Voxola as corrupt.

TAKE SEVENTEEN: Woodlegs has been in the Constant for so long that he’s forgotten he was ever on Earth to begin with.

TAKE EIGHTEEN: Wilbur actually knows a fair amount about the Constant’s history, including tidbits about the ancient civilization as well as the mythology of Them. Unfortunately, no one can understand what he’s saying, so it’s not like he can share any of it.

TAKE NINETEEN: Walter has a younger brother named Theodore. He still sends the pine-tree pioneers letters asking if they’ve managed to find Walter.

TAKE TWENTY: Lucy is Woodie’s wife who died by getting crushed by a tree. She haunts his axe specifically since it was a gift she gave him on one of their anniversaries.

TAKE TWENTY-ONE: Speaking of, Woodie isn’t even sure where his curse originates from. It’s an age-old family tale. All he knows is that the Constant’s magic levels have made it significantly worse.

TAKE TWENTY-TWO: Wes was actually there for the whole portal building thing Maxwell and Wilson did pre-dst. Wilson freed him from that invisible box, it’s not like he had anywhere better to run off to. He didn’t necessarily help build any of it, though, he was just there for moral support.

TAKE TWENTY-THREE: The way Wendy calls upon Abigail isn’t quite as dainty as portrayed in game. She carries a little purse around with her that has all of the requirements for this to be successful; which includes a ritual knife and Abigail’s ashes. Using her own blood and the remnants of her sister, Wendy can summon Abigail out from the flower she possesses.

TAKE TWENTY-FOUR: Wanda’s ageless watch explodes when she dies. Lol. And instead of leaving behind a skeleton, she leaves behind this weird static called life essence. It’s required that you preserve it if you want to be able to resurrect her.

TAKE TWENTY-FIVE: Maxwell’s parents wanted him to be a lawyer. Jack was the only one who supported the idea of him being a magician. Tough!

TAKE TWENTY-SIX: Wormwood is half tree guard. That’s why he’s so ffffucking tall. The gem Alter sent down to the Constant’s surface took control over a dead tree guard and then suddenly the city of Hamlet had a new royal gardener. Life is so silly!

TAKE TWENTY-SEVEN: Wigfrid’s real name is Anita and is actually a child prodigy. She absorbs herself in her role for a sense of purpose because acting is all she’s ever known.

TAKE TWENTY-EIGHT: Wilson is Wagstaff’s nephew 👎

TAKE TWENTY-NINE: Klaus absolutely despises mortal beings because they took his eyes. Bwaaamp 🎺

[heartshattering]

///

I've been feeling sick and having migraines and still had to hear people tell me "You don't do anything :/" including this random Home Health Aide who came over to take care of my mom today and she said I'm the one who should be doing HER job (which she gets paid for) and that I "don't care of my own mom"?? (Even though the helper is only here for less than 2 hours once a week, and not here for all the times I'm taking care of my mom alone and doesn't know about all the opportunities I've given up because of taking care of my mom) I'm so mad.

But yeah I know nothing I do matters so :') it's true my life is just a waste, there's no reason for me to stick around.

[topazadine]

Personal vibes (body positivity)

I thought of my body as the enemy for so many years. I starved myself, binged and purged, self-harmed, gave myself third-degree burns, developed so many vitamin deficiencies because I just hated. my. body.

And it wasn't just the way it looked either: I hated its needs, its demands, its cravings, its aches and pains, its perpetual maintenance.

It hated me too. I could feel it. The pain in my joints, which were holding so much trauma, reminded me that my body betrayed me whenever it could. Migraines didn't tell me to slow down: it told me to beat my body into submission, pop as many NSAIDs as I could to tell it to shut up.

If my body were someone else's, I'd be the abuser, whipping it mercilessly until it surrendered.

But rock climbing is completely rewiring my experience of my body. It's only been like a month, but I am delighting in my body now! It's my helper, my friend, my ally.

My mind and body are working together to solve the problem. I delight in the way that I crouch down in preparation to spring up onto a hold; it makes me feel like an apex predator leaping on my prey. When I'm up there, I'm as delicate as a ballerina, each movement chosen with care.

I love how strong my arms are, the way they can hold me on this tiny ledge. When my ankles pivot to extend my reach, or when my hips snap up to push myself further, I feel so proud. Each push of my thighs reminds me that I am a powerful animal born to move.

I'm learning to give my body what it needs. I don't feel guilty for eating more, because my body is working hard and needs the nutrition. I'm taking my vitamins religiously. If I want tacos or cake, my body deserves it. I earned my reward.

But I also recognize that avoiding junk food is a form of self-care, not restriction or abuse. It's ensuring my body gets what it needs, that the food I provide is serving me rather than taking away from my goals. And frankly, I don't crave it much anymore anyway. My body knows what it needs.

When my hands are chapped after a session, I nourish them with nice salves; I moisturize them at night. I drink as much water as my body wants, and I stretch in the morning and evenings to help lubricate my joints.

My tailbone has been hurting, so I bought a nice donut pillow to sit on, and when it stings after I sit up, I go "oh, you poor thing! It's alright. Let me be gentler."

When I am sore after a session, I go, "You wonderful darling! You worked so hard and I'm proud of you. Now it's time to rest. Let's get some sleep, and eat good food, and drink plenty of water, and stretch out so you're ready for next time."

And it's responding so well. My joints don't hurt as much anymore, and my skin is clearing up, and I almost never get migraines now.

I've never cared much about what I look like; I don't care that I have a stomach rolls, stretch marks, scars. But I love what my body can do for me, and what I can do for it. I love developing this friendship with my body, comforting it, nourishing it.

Forgiving its weaknesses, accepting its flaws, treating it with care, respecting its limitations. It all feels so good. I love to love my body.

If you've had an antagonistic relationship with your body, I encourage you to try to find a physical activity that feels good and that is within your limits.

Not to lose weight or gain muscle, but just to build that partnership and delight in what you can do. Something that is just for you and your body, without expectations, without societal pressures.

Maybe you've never thought of yourself as sporty (I never have) or you have a bad relationship with exercise because you feel shame when you mess up. Perhaps people fat-shamed you for not being able to do something or insisted that exercise is only to lose weight, not to have fun.

That's not true! Moving your body should be a delight. I know that doing mandatory physical exercise during school made me think of sports as punishment and misery, but now that I'm choosing it for myself, I crave it!

I go because I want to, not because anyone is telling me to. I go because it's calming and it's a challenge. I don't think about whether I'm gaining muscle or losing fat or whatever. I think about how exciting it is to finally wreck that route that's been tormenting me, and how much I want to solve the problem I haven't been able to yet.

And I think about how much my body loves to serve me and how we are a team.

Just show yourself affection; have fun. Move because your body wants to. I think you'll find you come to love yourself more when you let your body do what it's designed to do: support you through all your activities.

[brandwhorestarscream]

Not sure why but the thought came to me what if amnesiac decepticons au and the cross dimensional shenanigans happens in the same universe. Wildbreak visit his favorite uncle Blitzwing only to find he has zero memories of him and is hurting. So clearly Wildbreak has to be his personal helper or nurse anyway I just want the autobots having to deal with this random kid that popped up and refuses to leave.

That is so cute that is so cute THAT IS SO CUTE!!!!!

Little Wildbreak is very qualified for the position of nurse, after all his daddy is a doctor and he has lots of bandaids on hand at any given moment. He sticks one on Blitzwing’s forehead after hearing his favorite uncle mention a processor-breaking migraine. Kisses top of the band aid like, "Feel better? 🥺"

Blitzwing has no idea who this tiny child is, but he appreciates the sweet gesture

[ingredientsonline]

9 Different Types of Magnesium and Their Benefits

[flamingredanon]

Uncle migraine came to visit so no more Right art from me today.

So have a pic of my Right and Ellry crewmates alongside a bowl of hamburger helper.

[violaceum-vitellina-viridis]

For the numbers ask game: 9 and 26 💚🌿

i like how tumblr didn't tell me about this ask until someone else sent something in, extremely rude of it

9. color of my hair red! or, well. right now it's a faded orange/blonde. but usually it's orange-red, i just need to redye it

26. what i love about myself uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. migraine hell time is making this one hard, okay, hm. i'm a good writer, i'm a Helper, i'm pretty decent at art? my eyes are pretty. uhh. yeah.

[bibliophilecats]

Sometimes, I worry that I spent too much of my free time mindlessly scrolling through tumblr, watching videos on YT, reading wikipedia.

But then there are the migraine days and I am so happy. My phone is my biggest helper in distracting me from the pain. I have nearly everything I need and can switch depending on current ability to focus/need for distraction between reading, watching, listening. And I can contact people for help. It is so much better.