#sometimes i want to stop T just to be accepted again

[aimlesswalker]

I just want to be some guy

As a trans man, I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere in the lgbt+ community because I’ll never be attractive to anyone (which is why I ID as queer but even then I feel outcast) and it…. it really hurts sometimes. I’m simultaneously too masculine and not masculine enough.

in the men who are attracted to men spaces, most people when they see me think I’m a twink because of being short/small and/or for being trans/nonbinary. They think I’m hairless, feminine, boyish, submissive, etc. I’m…. at this point in my life I am really really not. Testosterone has made me male and everything that entails. I’ve gained (healthy! good for me!) weight and my stomach sticks out, I’m covered in body hair, I am partway to balding. All the things that are conventionally unattractive about men. All the things that are demonized in trans men. I’m too masculine to fit their idea of a nonbinary person. But masculine in “the wrong way”. I have to either be muscular/fit or small and hairless to be wanted here. I don’t even count as a bear, you’d probably just call my shape a “dad bod”. This isn’t just some vague feeling I get in these spaces- people have legit said to me “oh I love twinks” or “oh I love femboys” and I have to awkwardly explain that no I’m not one actually. I’m not what they want me to be. And I’m really tired of people placing that expectation on me- that I’m a slender hairless twink who is submissive and likes bottoming. Just because I’m small and/or trans. so gross. 

and then in the women who are attracted to men spaces well… they’d never look twice at me. I’m short and not at all muscular/toned/fit. Again, I have gained weight, am hairy, and halfway to bald. Bedsides not being conventionally attractive- they usually want a man who can “provide”. I am disabled and can’t work. I can’t drive. I can’t give them flowers or pick them up for a date. I can’t be any of the things they’re looking for in a partner. Being disabled makes me seen as “less than”. Being dependent on other people is a trait that is endlessly mocked in men. I’m not masculine enough. 

so where the fuck does that leave me? I’m not even going to talk about how being aromantic in queer spaces alienates me further. I love testosterone, I love what it’s done for me and how I feel healthier on it. But like. fuck. I don’t feel like I’m ever going to be attractive to anyone. I never get to feel pretty or handsome. I never get to feel happy about my appearance anymore and that makes me so sad. I used to derive so much joy from picking out outfits and accessorizing and applying glittery make up. I’m too sick to leave the house ever so I don’t do those things anymore, besides the fact that I *can’t* present feminine anymore without risking my safety. People would assume I’m a trans woman and act accordingly because they see a man attempting to be feminine. I am fully man and fully nonbinary, but I never get to exist as both at the same time. I can’t be feminine without people invalidating/forgetting my manhood. I can’t be masculine without people invalidating/forgetting my nonbinary-ness. I’m too masculine for nonbinary spaces and too nonbinary for masculine spaces. I just…….. I get incredibly sad about this.

And people generally don’t care??? the sentiment seems to be that trans men who are masculine, who pass, who are stealth, etc don’t belong in the lgbt+ community, shouldn’t be in lgbt+ or queer spaces. They’re not wanted there because of being masculine. These spaces are only for “non-men”. But the second you talk about your struggles as a trans man as a reason for why you should be included, you get pegged as an owo twink femboy to most people. It’s always one or the other (demonized or infantilized) and I’m really fucking sick of it. It hurts. I just want to be some guy.

[thecultoflove]

CUPID HI Being nervous of image does happen sometimes and it's a really difficult thing but I think you're so FUN! Not a lot of people want to be [ Whatever you'd call your behavior ] for a similiar reason you're apologizing for so I think you should take a day to appreciate that uniqueness isn't a horrible dooming end of the world situation. Take what you think is a flaw of yours and look at it as something that others love you for. I can promise that people most likely PREFER you're overly excited

ajgkfhdkfdkjghkjfdhgjkfdhgjkfdhgkjfdhgfdjkg this is too sweet i really wish i could express how much i needed it i hope you have the best day ever. i love you so muchhh

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[asunflowerana]

cramp challenge

summary: based on a internet challenge, the boys decided to face the most unstoppable enemy in life.

with: kaminari, shinsou, kirishima and bakugou.

a/n: i just wanted to watch their faces 😂

⊛ kirishima eijirou

“Are you sure you want this?” You ask him one last time, adjusting the device’s belt around his waist so that it stays pressed right to his belly.

“I’ll be okay, babe. Don’t worry about your man, he got this.” He winks and sends you one of his cheerful smiles. It’s really impressive how much he can endure in a fight, but this pain is a whole new level of deepness. It would be pointless to keep warning Eijirou, though: once he settles on something, it’s hard to change his mind.

You lay down next to him to give him support, the same device wrapped around your tummy, and you give him a good luck gaze before setting up and starting.

level of vibrations = increasing

30 seconds: he only presses his lips together, but you can notice he’s holding himself.

2 minutes: his nails start scratching the mattress as he holds onto it, but he keeps still, looking at the ceiling and trying to breathe evenly.

5 minutes: his face is reddening and he lets out a small whimper before he searches for your hand. He gives you a firm squeeze, not only to endure the pain but somehow comfort you since you’re also going through this.

10 minutes: his eyes start watering, but he keeps still, biting his bottom lip so hard that it bruises.

You turn off the device, and his arms move around you immediately, holding your body tight. You can feel your shoulder get a little damp, probably from the tears he was holding back.

“I don’t want you to go through this again, babe.” He presses his face onto your neck, still keeping you in his tight, comforting embrace. Your heart melts with how caring Eijirou is, even now that he understands a bit of your own pain. “M'gonna kick all these cramps so they don’t bother you ever again.”

⊛ shinsou hitoshi 

“Do I really need to do this?” He questions, watching you move from side to side preparing the whole set for your little experiment. “I think I have an idea of how much this hurts.” He tries to convince you, memories of witnessing women’s cramps (mostly yours) coming vividly to his mind — he can still remember how chaotic things got back then.

After assuring him you would stop after five minutes, he gave in. This could help him get a notion of how is your monthly torture, and give him new ideas to comfort you during it, so it won’t be a waste. And besides, the ache is probably lower than some blows he took from past enemies in the field. 

level of vibrations = intense

How utterly wrong he was.

30 seconds: “Wow, what the heck?” He squirms a bit, bothered by the pitiless way the pain comes. It feels like he was punched in the stomach by Midoriya.

2 minutes: “How is it not five minutes already?!” He groans, his legs kicking and throwing the layers of blankets away from bed. “Freaking evil thing!”

5 minutes: “Okay, that's enough!” He practically barks, ripping the belt apart by force and throwing the device away from his body. He takes deep breaths, feeling like he might actually pass out, cradling his own body and looking at you with widened eyes. “Baby, how the heck do you bear this every month? It’s insane!”

⊛ kaminari denki

“C’mon, bring it on, gorgeous!” Excited, your boyfriend grins as you prepare his torture session. It really amazes you the way he positively accepted this idea, which is not very common for Denki to appreciate pain. He was the one who bought that device in the first place, curious to see how cramps worked in practice — and to see if he’s strong enough to bear it. 

He can be a looney sometimes. But you appreciate his willingness the same way.

level of vibrations: increasing.

30 seconds: “Wow, it tickles!” He says chuckling, feeling the vibrations building up against his skin. It’s not a foreign sensation for him, but it’s still new to his brain. 

2 minutes: “Uhm, they can get pretty tough, huh?” He lets out a small grunt, but there’s still a small smile on his face, his toes curling from the ache. “Don’t stop, I want to see how much I can handle it.”

5 minutes: He’s rolling side to side in bed, wrapping himself with the blankets like a burrito. “Oh man, this is so freaking painful!”.

10 minutes: Tears are running freely on his face now, and you’re taking the remote to stop. “No!” He protests, chuckling through the pain. “I can handle it…. Ten more minutes.”

20 minutes: His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, his body motionless. “I can’t feel anything.”

Your boyfriend got numb for a whole hour before falling asleep.

⊛ bakugou katsuki

Last words: “Turn this on already!” He demands impatient, seeing you hesitant to start. Ever since he found out his friends did it with their girlfriends, Katsuki has been nagging you to do it as well, and you can’t sort out the reason behind it. Little did you know, your boyfriend was challenged by his own mates, who claimed he wouldn’t last one minute with cramps. Bakugou was fuming that day, but gave you a brief explanation about it, just proposing out of nowhere this idea. 

Since you had no other choice but to comply with your grumpy's request, you arranged the device, and prepared everything he might need during the process. 

You can only hope he doesn't blast your whole bedroom away.

level of vibrations: intense (his request)

30 seconds: He squirms a bit but tries to hang on, his expression concentrated. The ache from it is making him go to the moon, so hurtful, that tears start forming on his globes unintentionally. 

2 minutes: The pain is unbearable, it’s too intense and it doesn't stop. Yes, he has been through a lot of hard times in fights, but this is really a different kind of struggle. He can’t stand anymore, so he bowls, practically ripping the device with his bare hands and throwing it on the wall. He’s fuming, so mad, and not only for his own pain or the fact that he lost a stupid challenge: it’s the fact that you have to endure this every freaking month, and he can’t do nothing to stop that. 

“C’mere, you.” He grumbles after calming down, pulling you into his arm with an unexpected gentleness, resting his chin on the top of your head while caressing your skin. He gives your scalp a soft peck, breathing your smell. “Should’ve told me it hurted like that, idiot. Next period, you better not move around and let me take care of you, you hear me?”

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

FIRST TIME

PAIRING : teenage!dean winchester x teenage!fem!reader (au)

SUMMARY : reader finally decides to give her virginity to dean

WARNINGS : young love. fluff. smut. horniness. cunnilingus. fingering. under-aged sex. rough sex. semi-pubic sex. unprotected p in v. aftercare. attentive dean. strong language. praise kink.

A/N : this oneshot is a prequal to homework [if you haven't read it yet, go check it out!] thank you to everyone who's read and supported it, it means the world. i plan on making a few more oneshots (that could be read on its own) in this universe. let me know what you think 😆

Your eight-month anniversary with Dean was today. In a (good) way, it felt longer. Growing up, you were taught to respect your body. You were told to wait for marriage before having a man worship at your temple. It was "the best gift you could give your husband," at least that's what they said. Until now, you haven't had a problem waiting. Sure, you had urges from time to time like any teenager, but no one had made you feel how you felt with Dean.

The longer you spent with him, the more you craved. It wasn't just his physical attributes but his personality, too. Every exchange of words, every shared moment, and every heartfelt conversation only entrenched your love even further. It was the way he protected you, cared for you, and loved you that made you feel safe. Until you, he had no interest in dating. Why would he when all he wanted from girls was something they offered him freely?

You had been the first girl ever to deny him, and that's what drew him in. He wasn't looking for a relationship, but hearing the word 'no' intrigued him. Suddenly, finding ways to get your attention was his priority. Whether it was meeting you at your locker every morning with flowers, seeing you after school to offer you a ride home, or even cornering your best friend for help winning you over, he didn't stop. It wasn't until you overhead your peers discuss how Dean dismissed any girl who engaged with him that you took him seriously.

And there he was again, at your locker, with the brightest bouquet of tulips, your favorite. His charming smile beams towards you, filling you with joy from across the hall. Students pass by, talking amongst themselves about you. "Watch, she's going to blow him off again." "How could she do that? He's so hot." "He's only trying to win her over to get in her pants. She's not even that cute." Even though it wasn't in your nature to ignore them, you chose not to cause a scene, not with them anyway.

A smile lit up your face as you focused on Dean. "Hey," You greet once you're standing before him.

"Hey, beautiful," You couldn't help but blush at the pet name, loving how it sounded coming from his mouth.

He hands you the flowers, and you happily accept them. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He leans against the locker beside yours, watching you open your own. You inhaled the bouquet before gently placing the tulips inside. "I'm sure I know the answer to this, but would you like to go out sometime?"

You close your locker and stare into his dreamy eyes as you reply, "I'd love to."

His face lit up like a kid on Christmas. It seemed he was ready for you to turn him down again, and as much as he wanted, he didn't expect you to say yes. He leaned away from the lockers as a smile stretched across his face. His infectious smile brought one of your own. You always imagined saying those words to him, and now that you did, it was better than you had dreamed it would be.

"Really? T-that's great! Does tonight work?"

"Yeah, tonight's perfect."

"Awesome, I'll pick you up at eight."

You weren't a bold person, but you couldn't resist standing on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Your hand rests against his arm, maintaining your balance as your lips press against his face. Even though your gesture was small, he closed his eyes and enjoyed your lingering kiss. You slowly pull away and lean back on your heels. The passing crowd seemed to still at the publicly displayed affection. Hush conversations began as everyone gawked at you two. Before doubt could seep in, Dean grasped your attention.

"Don't listen to them."

You nodded, listening to his words and ignoring the others. "I'll see you tonight."

The Impala comes to a soft halt in the middle of the grassy field like it did all those nights ago. A smile appears when you realize he's recreating your first date. Dean had taken you to his favorite diner in town as the sun had set before coming here. The pur of the engine ceases, and his door creaks open. You've learned over the months to wait for your boyfriend rather than exiting Baby by yourself. Despite your protests, he insisted on being the gentleman his parents raised him to be, someone he was, only with you.

Dean helps you onto the hood, then joins. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. Your backs lean against the windshield, heads tilted towards the night sky. Stars litter the dark canvas above, shining as bright as the first time he brought you. A warm breeze blew through the trees, over the open field, and towards the Impala. Crickets play their song as the rustle of leaves hum from afar. It was a scene out of a romance novel.

A content smile found its home on your face. You didn't need to talk to feel comfortable with him and were confident he felt the same. Being in his presence alone filled you with a sense of safety. Dean has had his share of fights defending you, whether you wanted him to or not. He never gave you a reason to doubt him, and you knew deep in your soul that wouldn't change. That's why you decided tonight was the night you'd give yourself to him completely.

Tearing your gaze from the stars, you direct your admiration towards your boyfriend. Feeling your stare, he turns his undivided attention towards you. You lean forward and connect your lips with his. He doesn't waste a moment to kiss you back with just as much passion. His hand runs through your hair, sending tingling sensations across your scalp. You breathe him in, quickly accepting his tongue. He leans over your body, deepening the kiss. Eager for more, you push him back against the windshield and straddle his hips. Your ass grinds against his lap, and he pulls your hair, breaking the kiss, only to attach his mouth to your neck.

Small moans escape your peppered throat, the light breeze carrying them away. The feeling of Dean's growing member rubbing against your entrance made you apathetic toward the marks he was leaving behind. You'd happily deal with the evidence later. Your eyes squeeze shut as the friction becomes overwhelming. Shallow breaths leave your lungs as tension quickly builds in the pit of your stomach.

With one hand on the back of your head and the other at the bottom of your spine, he lays you across on the hood. He hovers over your body before continuing the actions from before. Dean harshly rubs his bulging jeans against yours, and your legs wrap around his hips to pull him closer. Your body clings to his, only encouraging him to grind harder. Desperation gets the best of you when your walls clench around nothing.

"I need you," You breathe out.

Dean stops his movements and stares into your eyes, asking, "What?"

"I need you—I want you."

"A-are you sure?" He inquires as he rises to a seated position.

"Yes, D." You sit too and reassure him. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. What better time than on our anniversary?"

He hesitates but says, "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't expect—I would've planned it out if I knew you were ready. I imagined our first time—your first time—to be perfect. Not in the back seat of my car; You mean so much more than that."

"I know, but it can still be perfect."

"How?"

"Well..." You take his hand in yours, squeezing gently. "I think losing my virginity to the boy I love under the stars sounds pretty perfect to me."

"That sounds great, but the 'where' part is still an issue."

You glance around your surroundings before settling with, "Right here."

His eyebrows draw together. "On the hood?"

"Beats the backseat for my first time. And, I don't know, having sex on the hood of the Impala sounds sexier."

A dry chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head. "Does it now?"

"Mhm," You hum as you scoot closer.

He inhales sharply once you gently press your lips against his throat, instantly finding his sweet spot. Because your relationship hadn't gone further than second base, you both had gotten pretty good at teasing each other. You had to admit, there were a few times when you almost caved out of sheer lust. But tonight was different: you were ready. A grin plays on your lips as your other hand trails down to his tightening jeans. Groans fall from his mouth as you palm his erection and sink your teeth into his sensitive skin.

Your hand undoes his pants, and before you can slip your hand in, he lays you back down. His lips capture yours, and you quickly move in sync. You pull his shirt up, hinting you wanted it off. He complies and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the ground. As he kneels in front of you, you pull his jeans down and see his boner through the fabric of his boxers.

After discarding his pants, he reaches for yours to peel them off. As he did that, you quickly took your shirt off. You were both now in your undergarments, staring hungrily at one another. He hovers over you and kisses down your neck towards your chest. Your body goes hot, growing hornier by the second. His fingers drag the straps of your bra off your shoulders as his mouth places wet kisses on the top of your breasts. You arch your back, giving him access to unhook your bra.

The outline of his cock presses into your clit, distracting you from your unruly thoughts. His warm tongue finds your left nipple, licking it before taking it into his mouth and gently sucking. He doesn't leave the right one unoccupied for long. His fingers lightly pinch and twist your hardened nipple. You close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure his mouth, fingers, and dick are creating. The intensity of his member grinding against your clit and the stimulation of both your nipples were driving you to the edge. Suddenly, his mouth unlatches itself from you, causing you to open your eyes in confusion.

Dean's large hands run down your thighs, sending goosebumps along your skin. His fingers loop around the waistband of your underwear, and before he goes further, he silently asks if it's okay. You nod and watch as he pries your soaked panties from your body. Instinctively, you try closing your legs, feeling insecure. Flush ran throughout your entire body. You had never been this intimate with someone, and it was frightening. He detects your lack of confidence and promptly makes you feel comfortable.

"You're so beautiful." He praises. "So much better than I ever imagined."

His fingertips lightly ran over your skin as if he were afraid to hurt you. They cupped the back of your knees and gently lifted until they bent. Dean slowly kisses down your thighs, and between each peck, he compliments you. You feel your insecurity disappear the closer he gets to your most intimate area. Without wasting another moment, his face devours your pussy as if he were a starved man. You arch your back as he licks your cunt clean, skillfully working through your folds. Your eyes roll back once his nose presses against your clit. Before you knew what was happening, you came all over his tongue.

"Oh, God," you pant with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to—I didn't know I was gonna cum so fast."

Dean lifts his head from between your thighs, the area around his mouth glossy with your juice. "Don't ever apologize, you got it?" After you nod, he dips down again, slurping up every last trace of your arousal, humming, "You taste so fucking good, princess."

You tug at his hair, squirming underneath his face. His thumb finds your bundle of nerves, rubbing it in circles, making your body unexpectedly jerk. You watch as he removes his countenance and trails kisses up your body. He lays on his side next to you before tucking his arm around your shoulders. The beating of your heart quickens as he applies the right amount of pressure you didn't know your clit needed. Your hips buck upwards while a whine slips past your lips, wanting more.

His fingers travel further down, running through your glistening folds. You knew what came next, the anticipation deafening. Slowly, he slides his index finger inside you. A content sigh falls from your mouth, enjoying how his digit drives in and out of your cunt. Dean sees your pleased and lazy smile, and a smirk emerges on his lips before adding another finger. You inhale deeply, feeling the difference between one and two fingers. It doesn't take long before his thick fingers pleasure you once again.

You bite your lip to stifle your moans, not wanting to annoy your boyfriend with your uncontrollable squeals. He notices and mumbles against the side of your mouth, "Let it out, princess. I want to hear every little sound you make."

That was all you needed to hear. Dean's fingers worked faster, taking you near the edge, and your moans told him so. They grow louder with each thrust, but the moment his fingers curled, you lost it. Your hand grabbed his hair, holding on as he fingered your g-spot. The muscles in your stomach contract, and you get that feeling again; your climax begins. You close your legs, thighs wrapping around his arm, making the high intensify. His consistency doesn't falter, and his digits fuck you, only taking you higher. Once it ends, your legs fall, and he pulls his hand away.

Your chest rises and falls, trying to catch your breath. Dean brings his drenched hand to his mouth, his eyes finding yours before closing his lips around his fingers and pulling them out at an agonizingly slow pace. Fuck, you thought. Watching him suck your fluids from his digits alone could've made you cum again. Your left-hand slips into his boxers before wrapping around his erection. A small groan falls from his lips, having never been touched like this by you. Without having to see his length, you felt it was rather long. You pumped his silky soft cock a few times and felt him twitch. His previously soaked hand pulls off his remaining clothing, freeing his large member. Your eyes widen; He's much bigger than you imagined.

How was he going to fit? You wonder. He saw the worry in your eyes and ran his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your face before kissing the tip of your nose. Dean gently grasped the hand that held him and intertwined your fingers together as he hovered over you. He nudges your knees apart, and you happily allow him between your legs. This was it. This was what you both have been waiting—what felt like anyway—an eternity for. Your mind was ready, but you weren't sure if your body was.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart," Dean reassures. "I'll go as slow as you need."

You nod, intoxicated by his affectionate attentiveness. "Okay."

His lips connect with yours, kissing your nerves away. He rubs his tip through your folds, coating it with your wetness. You break apart and angle your head to watch his cock disappear in your awaiting pussy. The pain as he stretches your walls rips through your body, forcing your eyes shut. Your face scrunches in discomfort as he pushes in further. Whines come from your mouth as he slowly bottoms out. Dean stays still, kissing your forehead as you adjust to his size.

"I know, princess, I'm sorry. I promise it'll feel better."

You nod in response. Soon, your eyes open as the pain becomes tolerable, whispering, "Okay, you can move."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Dean's eyes scan over your countenance, trying to detect any lies. When he saw none, he began to move. You inhale sharply as the pain rushes back. His hips stop their retraction, but you quickly shake your head in protest.

"Keep going," You say through gritted teeth.

Without question, he pulls back until his tip threatens to slip out. Slowly, he drives back in. You squeeze his hand and wrap the other around his shoulder as your legs cling to his torso. His lips pepper your face with kisses as he continues to thrust the discomfort away. Over the months, you've seen the womanizer everyone knew Dean as vanish. He always took care of you—physically, mentally, and emotionally. You couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend, especially right now. His effort to soothe you seemed to have worked. The pain turned to pleasure, and you ached for more.

"Faster," You murmur into his ear.

He bit his lip, trying to distract himself from spilling his cum so soon, but the way your walls squeezed around him made it nearly impossible. Dean picks up his speed, playing his own game of russian roulette. You felt his cock twitch inside you, prompting a moan and the tightening of your insides. He buries his head into your neck, attempting to postpone his climax. The pleasure began to build in your stomach, and per his earlier request, you made it known.

"Fuck, babe. If you keep it up, I'm going to cum." He groans.

You giggle, "Isn't that the point?"

He thrusts deeper, answering, "Not until you do."

A new wave of satisfaction washes over your body, making you moan louder, begging, "Harder."

Dean complies, bucking his hips into the back of your thighs. His name fell from your lips like a prayer. You untangle your hand from his and dig your nails into his back. Sure, you had daydreamed of having sex with your boyfriend hundreds of times, but you never imagined it being this mind-blowing. His member deliciously bruises your g-spot, causing pain and pleasure to fight for dominance. Sounds you never thought you could make fall from your mouth, encouraging him to quicken his pace. The Impala rocked side to side, utilizing the suspension's swaybar with each vigorous thrust.

"Fuck, Dean. Just like that, baby. Don't stop." You beg between moans.

The tension in your belly threatened to snap any second. The area just under his waist rubs against your clit, coercing your chest to arch into his. He presses you into the warm hood, keeping your squirming to a minimum. Tears flood your eyes as your immense climax approaches. Your body tenses as it braces for your last orgasm, squeezing Dean's phallus for dear life.

"Cum on my cock, princess." He urges as he fights off his own release. "I know you can do it. Mm... 'Want to feel you come undone on my dick. C'mon, sweetheart, do it for me."

His words were all you needed to fall over the edge. Except you didn't fall, you flew. Your fluids gushed on his member as you screamed into the night air. His thrusts began to falter, but he forced himself to ride you through your high. Your toes curl while your eyes roll back, your climax taking control of your body.

Unable to fight off his orgasm any longer, he hurriedly asks, "Where do you want it?"

You can barely form words as your body shakes uncontrollably. "D-d-does-n't ma-tter."

The weight of Dean's body lifts from yours as he sits back, pulling himself out and grabbing his wet member. Your eyes refocus in time to see him accidentally ejaculate on your folds. His cock twitches again, this time spraying across your upper body. A breathy groan falls from his parted lips as ropes of hot cum coat your skin. You feel his seed drip towards your entrance, daring to breed life with you. The thought of carrying his child brings a smile to your face. No, no. You're too young, you remind yourself. Can't start a family with him yet. He bends over your body and kisses your lips. He presses his softening dick against your wet folds as you kiss him back.

"As much as I love bathing in your cum, I think I wanna clean up so we can cuddle." You pant, trying to catch your breath on the way down from your high.

He chuckles against your lips before sitting up again. "I'll be right back."

Dean climbs off the Impala and opens the back door. You lay still as the fluids threaten to leak onto the hood. He shuts the door, returning with a blanket in one hand and napkins and a water bottle in the other. He sets the blanket on the windshield before hopping next to you. He wipes the mess away and uses the water to remove the stickiness left behind. Once he finished cleaning you up, he tossed the dirty napkins off the car. He lays beside you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into his bare chest, listening to the beat of his heart as he pulls the blanket around you two.

He stares at the night sky, gazing at the stars, when you confess, "I love you."

Your boyfriend kisses the top of your head, mumbling against your hair, "I love you too, sweet pea."

"Thank you for being my first."

His hand gently lifts your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "Thank you for trusting me to be your first."

Your lips curl into a smile, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

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[lilacwants]

you and me, we go way back.

18+ notes: fem reader, takes place vaguely during season 2. summary: Homelander sneakily makes his way back into your life, though you make no room to stop it. warnings : mature content, domlander. word count: 1.4k

After saving a mass of civilians from a terrorist attack, going to interview after interview, and socializing with fans, Homelander was exhausted. Well, as exhausted as he could be—tiredness was a concept foreign to him. Landing on the roof of the conglomerate he called home, Homelander decided to visit you. You, with your sweet words, comforting presence, and sinful smile.

The flight to the door of your balcony lasted a quick two minutes, the location of it still etched into his brain. The lights were turned off, and he didn't hear any noise that suggested you were home, so imagine his surprise when your balcony door was unlocked. You wanted him to come, he figured.

The living room looked the same as always, though there was an orange cat sleeping on your grey couch. You did love cats with all your heart. He was more of a dog person, though. It was no problem, however; he knew as soon as you moved in with him, your family was bound to grow anyway. With the exception of your companion, everything else had stayed the same.

Your bedroom was the same as always, your bed had the same wooden frame, and plants were still littered everywhere. Your bookshelf now had the complete collection of his movies, including a little poster that was all rolled up, marked with his signature and a sweet message written in the corner: "To the best p.a at Vought, let me take you out to dinner sometime. -Homelander."

In comparison, the bathroom seemed bigger and a new shower had been built, with black tile and glass doors. What attracted his attention the most, though, was an article of clothing thrown over the hamper. It was a Homelander-themed t-shirt, and it looked used. That made him chuckle. He wondered, did you touch yourself late at night wearing this shirt while thinking of him? He hoped you did.

After taking a tour through the apartment, Homelander heard the familiar jingle of your keys and prepared to see you again.

You were just coming home from a disastrous date. Your hopes were actually high, and you even put in more effort: your burgundy dress hugged your curves nicely, your Van Cleef perfume was drool-worthy, and your red-bottomed Louboutins completed the look.

So imagine your disappointment when Mike—or at least that's what he called himself—was rude-mannered and even asked if you would pay him back for covering your food, making clear the other options he viewed as payment, which completely flabbergasted you. As soon as he was done eating, you bid him farewell and basically teleported to your car.

Fiddling with your keys, you were completely prepared to change into a night slip, pour a glass of wine, and accept the fact that maybe, remaining single wasn't as bad as you thought.

Opening the door and leaving your purse and keys on the counter, you first took your heels off and poured yourself a glass of your favourite red. Quickly turning to enter the living room, you almost dropped it of shock.

"John. What? How… how are you here?"

"Sweetheart," he said with a smirk, "I missed you."

"You can't just show up like this," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You're a superhero, for God's sake, the leader of The Seven, might I add."

"I know," he replied, his smirk widening. "But I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you succeeded," you muttered, unsure how to feel about his sudden appearance.

"Come on," he said, stepping closer. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

You hesitated, then sighed. "Maybe. But next time, try giving me a heads-up."

"Noted," he said with a wink. "Now, how about we catch up?"

You took a deep breath, trying to process everything. Despite your attempts to stay composed, seeing him again stirred up old feelings. Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you and gently placed his hands on your waist.

"I've missed this," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek.

You closed your eyes, feeling his touch sending shivers down your spine. "John…"

He tilted your chin up with his finger, locking eyes with you. "I've thought about you every day."

"I…" Words failed you as he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that was both familiar and electrifying. Years melted away in that moment as his kiss deepened, the taste of wine and the scent of him engulfing your senses.

You wrapped your arms around him instinctively, pulling him closer. His hands roamed your back, holding you even nearer as the kiss grew more intense. It was as if the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in that moment of undeniable chemistry and longing.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. John's eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of longing and affection.

"I never stopped loving you," he confessed quietly, his voice raw with emotion.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you cupped his face in your hands. "I missed you too, John."

"You know," you whispered, your voice husky with desire as you traced your fingers lightly along his jawline, "you always knew how to make an entrance."

He chuckled softly, his breath mingling with yours. "I couldn't stay away any longer."

Leaning in closer, you murmured, "Well, now that you're here, what do you plan to do about it?"

His eyes darkened with desire as he pulled you even closer, his lips brushing against yours. "Everything I should have done a long time ago."

With that, he kissed you deeply, his hands finding their way through your hair, and you knew that this time, there would be no more goodbyes, only the passionate reunion you had both been craving.

Homelander knew how much you had wanted this, your arousal already pooling between your legs, the smell of it hitting him hard and heading straight to his cock. How did he stay away from you for so long? How did he resist fucking you senseless and instead entered a relationship with a fucking nazi?

Breaking out of his stupor, he found you already kissing his neck, your hands unbuckling his belt and peeling off his suit.

“Missed me that much, hm, sweetheart? Finally realized no one can fuck you like I do. You’re even wearing my face to sleep.” Homelander whispered, getting on top of you and roughly sliding his cock in, filling you to the brim with his length.

“Please John, fuck. You know no one can fuck me like you do, you're everything I've ever wanted, needed, and craved. I love, love, love you so fucking much, you're so good to me." You cried, tugging at his hair.

Now for that, you were getting rewarded. As he finally decided to start moving, hand sliding up your shirt and pulling your nipple, teasing you, you found yourself sobbing, his cock sliding deeper into you and making your flimsy bed shake.

Quickly deciding he had enough of missionary, Homelander pulled you into his lap, thrusting into you harsher than before and grabbing your other nipple with his mouth, sucking and biting, your moans drowning out the sound of your bed frame banging against your wall.

“You’re so fucking good. So, so good. I’m so fucking close, John, God.” You sobbed, tugging at his hair and scratching his back with your nails.

After a few rough thrusts into you, you finally came, vision going white and sobs coming out of you. The sensation of you tightening around him, the noises, and the smell of sex were all too much for Homelander as he came crashing, white load spilling inside you.

The intensity of it made your legs shake, overstimulation finally taking hold of all your senses.

However, now, as you settled down on his chest, head tucked away into his neck, you realized that maybe that sucky date was all worth it. John was back; he was in bed next to you right now, tracing little shapes into your skin and kissing your forehead.

Oh, how much you had missed this. His softer side, the love he offered you, the sweet gestures, and kind words—it made your head dizzy and your heart melt in your chest.

"Finally realized you're all mine, sweetheart. We'd better start packing; you're moving into the penthouse first thing in the morning. Can't risk letting you slip away from me again."

Those were the last words you heard as your breathing slowed, your eyes finally closed, your head resting on his chest. The promise of a new beginning with him filled you with a warmth and peace you hadn't felt in a long time.

[lucysarah-c]

“It’s the only extra shirt I got here,” Levi’s voice returned to its natural stiffness as he handed her a V-neck long sleeve grey t-shirt.

“Thanks,” she said with a shy smile while accepting it. Levi nodded as he drank from his canteen. Once she was dressed, he offered her some water, which she accepted.

Exhaustion washed over them as they lay down. His eyes focused on the ceiling, his arms bent behind his head. She lay on her side, watching him.

“What?” Levi's fierce eyes looked askance at her as she admired his side profile.

Her humming negative reply was all he got at first, and then, “Was it… was it enough for you?”

He turned his head to his left. “I came, didn’t I?”

His bluntness was sometimes a blessing and sometimes not. She pouted at the idea. “But… we didn’t…”

“I said we wouldn’t,” Levi quickly picked up the meaning behind her lack of conviction and rushed to reply. “Besides, even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t have gotten my dick in. You’re in your fertile days.”

The knowledge of that affirmation eluded her completely, to the point that she didn’t even know what to inquire about first. She also felt extremely tired as she scooted closer to his frame. Levi took the hint and embraced her with one arm as she rested her head on his chest.

Humming again, this time affirmatively, she somehow understood his point. .. she believed.

“That’s scary…” she whispered after a few minutes, and his attention returned to her.

“What?”

“I don’t know if I’ll do it,” the words had no meaning to Levi, who was trying hard to follow her train of thought as she rambled. “I feel my legs tremble.”

Silence, as if she could hear the gears of his head working to comprehend. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“About jumping,” she said casually.

“Huh?” he insisted, slightly raising up to hover over his left arm to have a better look at her face.

They were both confused—him because he didn’t even fathom what she was talking about, and her because she couldn’t believe that someone as street-smart as Levi didn’t know about it.

“That…” she started her explanation, slightly ashamed like a kid afraid of answering a classroom question wrong. First confidently, then doubts sank in. “That you have to jump ten times after it, so… so you don’t get pregnant?”

Confusion, then realization. Levi’s frowning face as he tried to process what she had just said turned into his normal stoic one, and then he bit his bottom lip. His chest began to shake as he inhaled rapidly through his nose. He began to chuckle, and when his weight fell back onto the mat, he was loudly laughing.

Her disbelief at seeing him genuinely laugh for the first time was mixed with offense. ‘What’s so damn funny?’

Levi kept trying to control his reaction, stopping momentarily, but then he remembered it and laughed again. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he insisted on forming a sentence, but it was just too hilarious somehow.

“Let me get this straight,” he chuckled, “you thought that jumping ten times, not nine, it has to be ten, would magically prevent you from getting pregnant?”

At this point, she was heavily offended. “Well yes!” Her enthusiastic affirmation only made him more entertained.

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” his declaration between chuckles made her pout heavily at him, feeling the embarrassment quickly washing over her. “If it was that simple, brat, I wouldn’t have been born.”

His hand ran through his features as he calmed down, slightly shaking his head with closed eyes as he processed the idea. “God, how fucking bad are surface bastards that women have the energy to be jumping around after getting fucked?”

“Well, that was my question! Because I’m tired!” she complained loudly, feeling she finally had a fair point in this conversation.

To her surprise, Levi rolled to his side and grabbed her face. Her resistance due to her petty anger was pointless because he easily held her. Both hands on each side of her head, he then planted a kiss on her forehead.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” his whisper was fully covered in a thin layer of tenderness.

The pout on her features didn’t cease as his fingers ran down the side of her face; it felt insulting that he was looking at her with such appreciation after laughing in her face. His knuckles caressed her cheekbone so gently.

“Who told you that shit?”

“The girls in the barracks always talk about it,” she confessed, hoping that common knowledge among her companions would erase her ignorance.

“I’ll pull out and we’ll count days, that’s what we will do,” Levi explained.

Probably my favourite scene ever from Holy Ground.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee

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[waughymommy]

My first 'mature' ABDL story. It's about a husband and a wife who have a problem. I hope to write a lot more after this, so I hope you like it!

Finding Mommy

'This isn't working.'

The statement didn't come as a shock to Andrew. He knew it wasn't working. But he didn't want to look like he didn't care, so he persued it, already feeling resigned and bitter about the discussion's inevitable conclusion.

'What isn't?' he asked, softly.

'This. This whole...baby thing. I can't do it,' his wife, Tammy, waved her hand in his direction. He winced, glancing down at his apparel. A slightly soggy diaper, and a t-shirt. He'd been wearing the same thing to bed every so often for a couple months now. His wife had initially chuckled and teased him playfully, but lately...lately the playful teasing had stopped. She wouldn't remark on his padded state, except if the diaper got too close to her. 'The tapes scratch my skin,' she'd explain, but Andrew suspected it was something else.

She went on.

'I'm sorry. I thought I could. I know you really want this. But I can't do it. I can't...pretend you're a baby. The diapers were one thing...but...I can't do that,' she looked away, as if preparing herself to say something upsetting. 'You know...when you first told me...you made it sound...sound like a sex thing...I don't mind that. I don't even mind...using them, sometimes...like...like before...you know?'

She trailed off, looking at Andrew, a pained expression on her face. Andrew's mind flashed back to when he'd first told her, almost a year and a half ago. How she'd been so...accepting.

--------------------------------

'Are these ones good?' Tammy asked, as she patted the package. 'I wanted to make sure I got good ones...I ordered these a few weeks after you told me...they just arrived on Monday.'

Andrew glanced at the large box of diapers, feeling a stirring of excitement at the fact that she'd bought so many...a whole case, in fact. God, what was she planning? Was this going to become a regular occurence? Was she going to keep him in diapers, for the whole day? Or wear herself? His head swam at the possibilities.

'I...uh...what are they?' he asked, licking his lips, nervously.

'Abena?' Tammy replied, scrunching up her face, trying to recall something. 'I...Abena X-plus? They had so many different names, but I think these are the good ones. Abri-form L4...The large ones...I wasn't sure what size we'd need...Oh.'

She suddenly stopped, pausing, as if worried about what she was going to say next. She reached into her (rather mysterious, to Andrew, at least) handbag, rummaging around. Andrew waited patiently for her to speak, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the large box on the bed. Abena X-plus was sure to be a world away from what he'd tried so far. He knew these were premium diapers. He felt himself jolt back to reality as Tammy started talking again.

'I bought...these...as well...'

Another package slid onto the bed, only this time it wasn't boxed or freshly delivered. It was clearly a packet of diapers. A packet of OPEN diapers.

'On the site I got the...uh...Abenas from, they were selling purple ones, too,' she said, nervously. 'So...I got some of those, in a smaller size...'

Andrew's mind could have exploded at that moment. Tammy stood up from the bed, an audible crinkling coming from her pyjama bottoms. Andrew couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the bulge of her diaper before, but he certainly noticed now. He stared at her rump almost hungrily as she turned sideways, looking coyly at him, grabbing the edge of her pyjama top and starting to lift it, revealing the purple waistband of the diaper.

Andrew stepped forwards, reaching out. His hand ran over her bottom, slipping off her trousers, until she was standing in just a diaper and a shirt. He patted the material of padding, pulling her close to him, hand trailing around and around the crinkly undergarment, feeling it, feeling /her/ through it.

'I...I guess you like it?' Tammy asked, feeling a little awkward. Andrew made a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan.

'Yes,' he replied, simply.

'Would you like to wear one, too?' she asked, wriggling her bottom against his crotch, making him tense a little.

'Y...yes...' he gasped, hardly believing what was happening...

'Then lay down on the bed for me...'

-----------------------------

That night had been amazing. Andrew couldn't believe his luck. They'd spent the whole evening in diapers, exploring and experimenting. It felt like his wildest fantasies had come true. This beautiful woman, his future wife (he'd chosen to tell her a little while after they got engaged), was willing to wear and use diapers for him. He couldn't believe it.

She seemed almost as eager as him, that evening. She did everything he'd ever fantasized about, sexually. She wet. She asked for a change. She changed him...they even had...well. Andrew wasn't sure what to call it. Lots of rubbing. Wet, squishy diapers pressing together, then pulled aside for the 'main event'. Was that diaper sex? He supposed so. It was wonderful, whatever it was.

He wondered if what happened next had been a turning point. At the end of the evening, when they were snuggled in bed, she'd sighed contentedly and lazily rolled out of bed.

'Be right back, hun,' she told him huskily, slipping out of the room in an instant.

She'd returned, after a couple minutes, undiapered, her bottoms now back on. She'd smiled and gotten back into bed with him.

------------

'Why did you take it off?' Andrew asked, a little confused. 'Didn't you like it?'

Tammy dodged the question, but sounded just as confused as Andrew. 'Well...we're done now, aren't we? I'm really tired...I don't think you're up to going again, even I wasn't...'

She paused, sidling up to him in the bed, absent-mindedly flattening the covers over her. 'Why haven't you taken yours off?' she asked, finally.

'I...Well. I just...thought I'd like to keep it on. That's...okay, right?'

A few moments ago, he'd been certain it would be. It seemed silly even to ask. But now he wasn't so sure.

'Oh. Um. Sure,' Tammy replied, smiling again. 'I love you.'

She kissed him, turning away, and Andrew slipped his arms around her from behind, murmuring 'I love you, too' into her neck.

---------------

'That was okay. It made me feel...sexy. I loved that I could have that effect on you. It made me feel good, too,' she thought for a moment. 'I felt like your partner, then. I felt like I was desirable, sexually, like...like this was a special secret, between us. Something for the bedroom, something kinky and fun. I didn't care that it was nappies, I knew people had fetishes...but this isn't just a fetish, is it?'

Andrew swallowed as she fixed him with a steely gaze.

'Is it, Andrew?'

He shook his head 'no'. It was more than that. He wished he'd explained before. He thought she'd understood.

'You...want to be a baby, don't you?'

Andrew's mouth opened in protest.

'No! I mean...not all the ti-'

Tammy raised a hand, cutting him off.

'I know. Not all the time. Not most of the time. Not forever. Just occasionally, right? Like when I tried before...but for real?'

Andrew swallowed and nodded again. He remembered the brief times she'd tried to play 'Mommy'.

--------------

'Uh...crawl to me...come here, you naughty little baby...'

Tammy's voice was strained, as she patted the top of her legs, calling Andrew over.

Meanwhile, Andrew himself was feeling...well. He wasn't sure exactly.

There was something a little exciting about the humiliation his wife was bringing to this role. He found something arousing about how she threatened to spank him, how she called him names and teased him. It felt, well, /naughty/, and he decided he sort of liked that. It was very erotic.

But...he wasn't looking for this to be erotic. Something was wrong. He didn't feel like a baby; he felt like a naughty boy being punished. He didn't feel safe and looked after. He felt chastised and a little ashamed. He felt unspeakably adult, despite the baby bonnet and mittens he was wearing. Instead of an innocent little baby, he was some weird guy, crawling around, pretending to be an infant, calling his wife 'Mommy'.

'Crawl to me!' Tammy repeated.

Andrew sighed, starting to move.

'Yes, Mommy...'

-------------------

'I thought that was really weird, but you know...' Tammy shrugged. 'I tried. For you. I thought you wanted that. I thought it was a sex thing still.'

Andrew shuffled in the bed, feeling uncomfortable. He wished he hadn't worn to bed, now. He'd felt a pang when he'd gone to pad up; his case of abenas was nearly empty; her package of molicares was two thirds full. He hadn't expected her to use them of her own volition, but it was a reminder of just how infrequently she'd worn, for him or otherwise.

'Then,' Tammy continued. 'Then you told me that wasn't what you wanted, either. You wanted it to be more...innocent...more 'snuggly'.' That last word was almost a snarl, and Andrew felt himself flinch.

'So I tried that, too. But I couldn't do it...I mean...' she sighed, pushing the hair back out of her eyes, sighing in frustration. 'Remember what I told you when you told me this stuff?'

­Andrew nodded.

­­­

-----------------

'Aren't I...doing enough?' Tammy asked, a look of confusion on her face.

'No! No, it's not that...it's more that you're doing it the wrong way...' Andrew immediately regretted his words, seeing his wife's expression turn sour.

'No! I mean...I...I think maybe I didn't really explain what I want, not properly. It's not just the baby stuff, dressing up and that...I want...' he swallowed, hesitant.

'Well...I want it to be more...um...innocent? Like...like...I was a rea...' he stopped himself. 'Like, more snuggly? You know? Maybe some...cuddles...at bedt- at night time...I'd like to be, um...held...sometimes...'

Tammy stared at him as if he had just sprouted a third head.

'So...you want me to be like your real mother?'

'No!'

'As if you were a real baby, right?'

'I...No...I mean...it's not like you're my real mother...I...I just want you to...'

'To what? Look after you? Like an infant?' Tammy demanded, her voice even.

'I...I...in a way...yes...I just don't want it to always be so...sexual...'

Tammy sighed. There was a silence before she finally spoke.

'Okay. Look. This is pretty weird to me. I'm not comfortable with it. But I love you, Andrew. I always will,' she looked up as she spoke, taking Andrew's hand in her own. 'But I don't know how to deal with this. I don't think I can...do that. I'm sorry.'

'Oh.' replied Andrew, simply. He hated himself at that moment. If he'd been honest from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.

'But,' Tammy started, nibbling her lip. 'BUT. I'd like to be okay with it. So...You can do something...something small...I don't know, you could wear a nappy to bed. And I'll try to get more comfy with the idea.'

Andrew's heart leapt. Everything was going to be okay.

---------------

Andrew's heart sank. Everything was going wrong.

But Tammy wasn't done yet...

'I tried so hard to...to accept this. I started off like...like it was no big deal, remember? I used to tease you and you'd smile and for a bit, I thought maybe I could be okay with it. But then, then you started to...I don't know. Resent me? You pulled away. It wasn't enough for you. And maybe I pulled away, too. It hurt to see you wanting me to give you something I wouldn't, couldn't give you. It hurt to see you shut me out because I couldn't understand. So...now we're here...'

'Where is here?' Andrew said, asking, for the second time that night, a question which he really didn't feel he needed to ask, but if he didn't ask it, he knew it would appear he didn't care.

'Here? Here is...my husband wants to be treated like a baby...NON sexually...and I can't cope with it,’ she paused, seemingly thinking hard about something. Her mouth opened again, this time drawing out the sound of one little word, waiting for a statement to follow it.

‘So….’

Andrew swallowed. He waited for the crushing blow. He didn’t know what she would say, but he could guess.

‘So you can’t wear diapers anymore around me…’

‘So I don’t want diapers in the house anymore…’

‘So I don’t love him anymore….’

‘So I /can’t/ love him anymore, and I think we need to get a divorce…’

He knew whatever was said next would change their relationship forever. He was about to lose something, he didn’t know what exactly, but he also knew life would be a lot harder without him. He looked up at her with grim determination, resigned to whatever awful things came out of her mouth next.

‘So…’ she began again, and Andrew felt himself stiffen, worry making his heart pound.

‘So I think we need to find him…find you…someone who can.’

Andrew gawped at her. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. What was she saying? Was she leaving him? She must be… she was just being the wonderful woman she always had been, willing to help him find a more ‘appropriate’ mate, someone who’d be happy to indulge him. He felt his eyes sting a little as tears formed, before, in the silence, another possibility occurred to him.

She’d been watching him closely, and seemed to notice as a flash of something, hope, realization maybe, passed across his face. He addressed her again, voice shaky.

‘Do you mea-‘ he was cut off abruptly.

‘I mean, just someone to do that for you, you know?’ Tammy explained, her voice emphasizing the word ‘that’ in a way that made it clear she found ‘that’ distasteful. ‘I…no sex. I’m not leaving you. I love you, I always will, I think. I hope. I just…I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Andrew. And…I know this is so, so important to you. I see it, Andy, I see how much you want it…’

It’s her turn to look scared now, her eyes filled with tears, rolling freely down her cheeks. She’s shivering, but it’s not cold. Wordlessly, Andrew embraced her, his own manly sob joining her small, squeaking ones, her voice cracking as she tried to go on.

‘I…I don’t want to lose you…I’m…I wanted so badly to m…make you happy, but I CAN’T. I’m a horrible, awful wife. I’m a fuck-up. I…I don’t know why you married me!’ she howls, throwing herself into Andrew’s chest, his arms soothing her, rubbing her back, shh-ing her like you would a crying child. A tiny smile formed on his lips for a moment, as he considered the role reversal.

But it was soon replaced by another kind of smile, the kind that happens when you realize maybe you’re not alone, that your partner is just as afraid of what’s happening as you. That he or she is afraid of the exact same things. It was a tearful, almost regret-filled smile.

‘If only we’d talked about this sooner…’

He shook his head, clearing his mind. Right now, he had to help Tammy feel better.

‘Ohh…oh hun…’ he said, his own voice wavering, fighting back another hard sob. ‘Shhh… you know, I’ve been worried about the same thing. I thought I was an awful husband. I wondered why you wanted to be with me. I didn’t understand. I thought…just now, you were going to leave me…’

Tammy jerked back, head snapping upwards to look at him, a look of something…hurt, Andrew decides. Hurt he’d think she would do that. Her face pink and flushed, her cheeks damp with too many tears.

‘Never,’ She retorted, instantly, and then she was back in his arms, crying anew. ‘Never…I…I NEVER want to lose you…’

Andrew smiled again, sighing, a little in relief. Of course, given her earlier outburst, he already knew that…but it was lovely to have confirmation.

‘I know Tam, I really do. Now, at least. But I want to let you know, I love you too. I don’t think you’re an awful wife…you’ve been so understanding. Please, don’t think I don’t love you, don’t think I resent you, or hate you or think ANYTHING bad about you, after you’ve tried so hard to fulfill me and my selfish, perverted desires.’

He felt her shaking her head, disagreeing, with the part about her trying so hard, or the part about his desires being perverted, or both, or something else…he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter at that moment.

‘So I’m just telling you, no matter what, I’ll love you. I’d have loved you even if you said I could never wear another diaper. I’d have loved you even if you told me you’d stopped loving me. I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself…’

Tammy’s cheeks turned a little pinker, her sobs dying down.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks, not moving to look at him.

‘Positive,’ he says, more confident now. ‘Do you feel better now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you ready to talk about…it?’

‘…Yes.’

There was a pause as Tammy pulled away, slowly, reluctantly, so she could look at him. She smiled, her eyes wandering over him, as if appreciating him newly. When she reached the diaper her expression clouded, eyes flitting back up to his, as if just remembering they had something else to discuss now.

‘So…do you mean it?’ Andrew asked, anxiously.

‘Yes.’

He looked unconvinced, so Tammy continued.

‘I don’t have a problem with it. I really don’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, an-‘

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’

‘Wh-what?’

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’ Andrew repeated, his tone not demanding or forceful, but genuinely curious.

‘I…well…’ Tammy looked away, embarrassed. ‘I was scared…’

‘Why?’

‘Well…first I was worried you’d say no, because she wouldn’t be me, and you wouldn’t be able to feel anything with her. And if you said no, I’d be out of options. I don’t know what would h-happen if…’ her voice broke again, eyes swimming with tears. Andrew frowned slightly.

‘What else?’

‘I was afraid if you said yes, you would love her...too much. You’d leave me. Because you don’t love me at all, not anymore…how could you? I mean-‘

Andrew squeezed her hand suddenly, shaking his head, stopping her from working herself up again.

‘Not true, love. I want you. I love you. I’m not going to replace you. Even if I agree to this, I promise,nobody’ll never replace you…are you sure you’re okay with this?’

Tammy nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘What…sort of things would she, uh, do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tammy admitted, seeming to shrink back a little. ‘I mean…change you? Give you bottles…pacifiers…play with you like a real baby.’

Andrew felt his heart flutter twice; once at the prospect of a genuine Mommy in his life, after so long… and once at the sudden feeling of utter love for Tammy that swept over him. ‘The ideal woman…’ he thought, snorting somewhere inside his head at how corny that was.

‘Would I be allowed to call her Mo…’ Andrew blushed, dropping his voice to a whisper.

‘Mommy?’ he finished, waiting.

‘Yes. Of course. I mean, that’s what you want, right? A Mommy? For the…the baby inside you? Just no sexual stuff. Please. I need that from you.’

Andrew nodded unhesitatingly. The thought of having sex with another woman (beyond occasional fantasies) had never even crossed his mind. He was missing an emotional, platonic, maternal bond, not a passionate sexual one.

They both smiled a moment, almost in triumph. They were still together. This might just work out.

‘So…’ Tammy started, grinning now.

‘So…’ Repeated Andrew, a playful smirk joining hers. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Now? Now we sleep. I’m so tired. I just want to be held. I’m so…worn out…’ she leant forwards again, nuzzling his chest, smiling softly. She sighed, a long, happy sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

‘Okay…do…you want me to go change before we-‘

‘No. I don’t want you to leave.’

Her tone was demanding that time, and Andrew chuckled. She wriggled, pulling the covers out from under them both, as they each shuffled and worked to lie down, his arms still wrapped around her. Their heads reaching the pillows, Tammy smiled wearily, shifting away a little, finding her husband’s body too warm for comfort. He leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead.

‘Goodnight Tammy…’

‘Goodnight…’ she hesitated, wondering if she was really going to say this, worrying he’d take it the wrong way. She stopped hesitating.

‘Baby,’ she added, one hand slipping down and squeezing the soggy bulge of his diaper. She watched his face for a reaction.

Andrew blushed a little as she withdrew her hand.

It was a simple, loving gesture. A show of acceptance.

It hadn’t meant anything else. She wasn’t going to baby him. She didn’t see him that way. She didn’t want to be ‘Mommy’. She was his wife, and she was just showing how much she cared, how safe he was with her, how much she truly wanted him to be happy, even in this.

At that moment, that was all that Andrew needed.

He lifted his hand to squeeze her retreating one, smiling.

‘Thanks,’ he said, earnestly.

With that, she sighed slightly and turned around, snuggling into him backwards. Tomorrow, she thought, was sure to be a very interesting day.

[tojjist]

♯♯ birthday special - t. fushiguro

a/n: i didn't do anything for the holiday season bc i barely had time :( but i still wanted to do summ for his birthday soo.

warnings: like one cuss. completely fulff. not proof read! sunshine x grumpy

toji fushiguro hates you. toji fushiguro despises you for all you are; kind, loving, sweet, and damn perfect.

it’s almost insulting to him, really. the way you mock him with your soft little smile, patronizing him with your kindness.

he hated how complicated you are. he could never understand your motives. why would you treat him like that? knowing where he came from and what his past looked like. why do you stick around when he offers next to nothing? he couldn’t find any proof of an ulterior motive yet he couldn’t accept the simple reality of you actually wanting to be around him.

but toji hated one thing above all; how you make him feel. he doesn’t get the way his chest clouds and breath tightens whenever your skin comes in contact with his. his tongue goes paralyzed when you smile his way, eyes unmoving from your face when you scoff a small chuckle at whatever dumb shit he said. he can’t even remember what made you laugh but he gets this overwhelming urge to do it again.

he grows vulnerable, craving your touch when you’re not around. he’s soon hyper aware of his attachment to you. but toji is a smart man, and he knows he can’t do anything about the situation he found himself entangled in.

when he’s away, a single hour could feel like a whole eternity. and he can’t wait to be back home. home where you’re waiting. home where he belongs.

it doesn’t take long for him to grow accustomed to the physical proximity of you. the feel of you becomes a soothing balm, gently brushing away all his worries even if only temporarily.

toji fushiguro hates you. he hates how his heart skips a beat whenever his nose picks up on your sweet scent. he hates how the sound of your voice downright puts his entire world on pause, stopping to hear every little word that leaves your lips. from mumbles when you’re half-asleep to your little rants about your day or the new show you’ve been watching.

toji fushiguro hates how he’s capable of so little. he can’t give you the world. he can’t give you the dream life. he can’t give you a luxurious house. he can’t give you fancy dates or decent holiday getaways. heck, sometimes he can’t give you even time.

that’s why he makes sure to spend every minute he could with you, basking in the haven you created for him.

he tells himself he’s doing it all for himself. he says he needs a rest and just keeps you around because it’s easier than ‘looking for another girl’. toji tries to convince himself that it’s temporary, that you’re just willing to stick around and that he’d leave sooner than later. he says he’s selfish and doing it all for himself.

but it’s clear as day when his arms cling to you first thing in the morning, searching for your warmth despite the duvet he had pushed away. it’s obvious in the way he caresses your hair while you pretend to be asleep. occasionally he’d let his lips find the crown of your head, greeting your hair with soft kisses.

toji fushiguro hates you. he hates when you told him that you loved him, in his car on some tuesday night when he took you out for a ride late at night even though he needed to sleep.

toji fushiguro hates how your face lit up when he brought some flowers home with him,mumbling something along the lines of “the vase been empty for too fucking long”. but there was no vase. and he only realized when he got up at night to get some water, spotting the pretty flowers set in a plastic water jug.

toji fushiguro hates his new life. he hates how different he’s become. the hostile menace has become a quiet man, following behind you everywhere you go as if he were your personal gorilla. toji fushiguro hates how much life mattered now. toji fushiguro hates the responsibility he feels.

he says it’s restricting, suffocating even. he clicks his tongue in annoyance when he sees the time. it’s past dinner time and he needs to be home to not keep you waiting. he’s frustrated at himself when he finds you plopped on the couch, face peaceful while you presumably have fallen asleep as you awaited his return. he feels guilt gnawing at him when he sees the food you’ve made, having not eaten so he wouldn’t have dinner alone.

you’re too much for him. and while he’d felt like he owes you at some point, sick of your little favors and stupid sweet words, toji soon realizes this life is his. it was by choice that he let you into his life, slowly rearranging the blocks of his reality. you broke and rebuild, fixing a man who believed he was long beyond repair.

toji fushiguro hates you. toji fushiguro despises you for all you are, kind, loving, sweet, and painfully his.

somewhere along the way toji has accepted all that he feels. falling in love isn’t shameful. he’s become a fool but he thinks it’s worth it long as you’ve the one who’s molded him into this shape.

[cranberrymoons]

here you are, standing there

prompt: bakery au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 880 tags: flirting, meet cute at the farmer's market, baker steve, writer eddie

There’s a farmer’s market in the park at the end of Eddie’s block which turns into a Christmas market as the weather gets cold.

He likes to bring his coffee there on Saturday mornings and find a seat on his favorite bench, just out of the way enough to be perfect for people watching but still close enough that he feels like part of the action. He brings a notebook with him when he does this, to scribble little thoughts to himself or sketch out an idea if he’s working on a new book, but mostly he just takes in the crowd and the air and the way people talk to each other as they shuffle past.

Like the bakery stall right across from his bench, with the stupid hot booth guy. 

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s the owner or a baker or just some college kid they hired to swipe people’s cards on his little iPad thing, but holy shit. Half the sketches in his book are of this guy's eyes or his hands or the special changing way the sun hits his face in the earlier parts of the morning, when it’s just coming up over the tops of the trees in the park.

It’s not creepy; he’s doing character research. He’s… observing the world around him. He’s a writer. Shut up.

He’s doing exactly this one Saturday morning in mid-November about a week before Thanksgiving when a shadow falls over his book. He glances up slowly, eyes trailing up from Hot Booth Guy’s hands to the sunny pattern of flowers embroidered on his apron and all the way up to his face where he’s standing two paces out of reach and staring down at Eddie with an amused little smile on his face.

And – fuck, he’s even hotter up close; Eddie had sort of hoped, for his own sanity if nothing else, that he’d be one of those people who looked weird on closer inspection, but nope. Here he is in all his square-jawed, golden-tanned Hot Booth Guy glory.

He raises his eyebrows and Eddie clears his throat. 

“Um,” he says intelligently. “Hi.”

Hot Booth Guy’s smile widens, and he lets out a little laugh. 

“Hi.” He holds out a crinkly paper bag, and Eddie blinks down at it. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side. “But I didn’t buy anything?”

Hot Booth Guy nods. “That’s correct.”

He holds the bag out again and wiggles it at him until Eddie accepts it, narrowing his eyes as he peeks inside at the perfect crackly flaky croissant nestled inside. He rips off a piece of it and pops it in his mouth, and Hot Booth Guy smiles as he watches him eat.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. He takes a breath. “This is… really good. Just – why?”

Hot Booth Guy shrugs a little, shoving his hands in his apron pockets. 

“You’re here every weekend and you never stop by,” he says. “Thought I might lure you in with one of my croissants since nothing else was working.”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh as he takes another bite of croissant. It really is a fucking great croissant. He squints into the sun as he looks up. 

“Lure me in?” 

“Yeah, gotta –” Hot Booth Guy mimes a lasso, throwing it in Eddie’s direction and using it to pull himself a step closer. “One of us has to make the first move. You obviously weren’t going to, so.”

And Eddie feels his cheeks heat in spite of the slight chill in the air. He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize there were moves to be made.”

Hot Booth Guy just smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie,” Eddie says. “Not – I mean, I am, and… you are, just –” He takes a breath. “I’m a writer. I just like to people watch sometimes? It helps me get dialogue down in my head. The rhythm of the way people talk? Things like that.”

Hot Booth Guy smiles. “So you’re not interested in getting lunch after one of the Saturday markets?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

Hot Booth Guy taps his apron, just above the flowers, where Steve is embroidered in sloping pink cursive. 

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Steve repeats. “I’m just saying, if you’d bought a muffin or a cookie or even a bagel at any point this summer, you would have –”

“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling in spite of himself even as he flushes. “I get it.”

“You would’ve gotten my name weeks ago. Probably even my number.”

“Oh, was that embroidered on your hat?”

Steve laughs, and he’s so, so lovely when he laughs, big smile and crinkled eyes, and Eddie feels something fizzy and sweet curl in his chest. He finishes the croissant as Steve’s laugh quiets down, and Eddie smiles up at him as he wads the bag into a ball and tosses it into the trash next to them.

“So?” Steve asks. “Lunch? Preferably today so I can start the wooing process before the Christmas rush really kicks in.”

Eddie nods a little, folding his notebook shut against his knees. “I’d like that,” he says. “The wooing, and also the number.”

[also on ao3]

[hannieehaee]

hi! i wanted to request seungcheol x reader based off of ‘how you get the girl’ by taylor swift? thank you!

content: inspired by 'how you get the girl' by taylor swift, angsty, fight between reader and cheol implied, fluff ending, etc.

wc: 738

a/n: ive never rlly listened to taylor before so im sorry if i took the lyrics out of context i tried to research the meaning of the song but i wasnt 100% sure T-T anyways tysm for requesting sorry i took so long <3

masterlist

seungcheol knew he had royally fucked up.

the details didn't matter now. it had been a while now – six months to be exact – and he still couldnt get over you. he'd see you around town occasionally, and you'd look perfectly fine. how could you be fine when he was so empty without you in his life? were you really better off without him?

he tried to move on, he really did, but no one was like you. the type of love you had was the type he wanted to be his endgame. there was no question about it. which was why he needed to fix his this.

it started with attempts to be in the same spaces as you again. he would find out where you'd be from mutual friends (okay, a little stalkerish, but it was fine!) and make sure to be in attendance to any party you'd go to. lucky for him, you were best friends with his good friends soonyoung and vernon, which gave him the perfect opening to approach you every time. at first you'd look peeved off by his presence, but after a few times you seemed to warm up to him, even laughing at his jokes sometimes. after a few weeks of intruding your friend hangouts, it was as if he'd always been there.

the day finally came in which you'd been left alone together at a party, with both soonyoung and vernon leaving one by one. it was getting late, so seungcheol offered to walk you home, which you surprisingly accepted with a polite smile. you talked like old friends on your way back, never once making any mention of the relationship you used to have. that made cheol both sad and relieved. it was good you weren't hurt by it anymore, but did this mean you were now looking for a mere friendship out of him? he had tried to bring back the old dynamics between the two of you. he had even been as physically affectionate as your newly-developed friendship would allow, but it seemed like that wasnt what you were looking for. seungcheol couldnt help but carry the disappointment in his face as the two of you arrived to your home.

"cheol? what's wrong?", you asked as soon as you caught sight of his face.

"hmm? oh, nothing. im fine. i, uh, goodnight. thanks for letting me walk you."

before he could even turn around, you pulled at his arm to grab his attention.

"cheol, what is it?"

he hesitated in speaking up again. he knew himself to be an outspoken man to a fault. and how was be expected to hold back when you looked so pretty under the moonlight and were even showing concern for him?

"i love you,"

fuck. that's not how he meant to start. and that was clearly not what you had expected him to say, judging by the shocked expression on your face.

"what?"

"im still in love with you, i- i know i fucked up, and i know i waited too long, but ... seeing you move on in life without me made me lose my mind. i know i shouldve apologized earlier. and i cant even blame you for breaking up with me, i ... i was a shitty boyfriend. i didnt treat you how you deserved. but i'll be better now, i promise! just give me one more chance. ill give you everything i shouldve back then and more. i know it's been six months, but ive been losing my mind without you. i know we could make this work. please?"

he knew he mustve looked crazy as he rambled his sudden love confession to you, but he still hoped that you'd maybe take pity on him and take him back. however, after a full minute of silence from you as you didn't meet his eyes, he knew that luck probably wouldnt be smiling at him today.

he turned to leave without a word until you unexpectedly stopped him again.

"wait, cheol," you seemed kind of shy about your movements, but still offered him a smile.

"come in? do you ... will you stay the night? please?"

your shy smile was met with his bright one as his arms warmly wrapped around yours, kissing your cheeks over and over as he used to once upon a time, walking the two of you into the apartment he was once oh so familiar with.

[hindahoney]

If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve harrington follow on from this post

ao3

wc: 2.6k | rated: T | cw: description of a meltdown with semi aggressive stimms | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie and robin but this is about stevie), hurt/comfort, stobin soulmates, steddie, steve Harrington has shitty parents

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he failed. he graduated. but he failed. those unsaid words between him and his parents. some get said. the bad ones, about him, they get said. over again like he’s 5 and being told is behaviour isn’t acceptable. that how he is isn’t right. ‘shape up or ship out’, basically. steve knows he can’t go anywhere new, not right now. only freshly recovered, physically at least. mentally; he’s still unacceptable. 

when steve works at scoops. it’s so fucking bright in there. so fucking bright, all day and he can’t focus and talking to people gets so much harder. it’s not like school where he can zone out in class and turn it on during lunch, in between, keep up his face with the people around him and sink back into his head during chemistry. no. now it’s all the time, customer after customer. that he has to talk to, put on a smile for, read so he gives them what they want and they leave happy. it’s exhausting. girls don’t like him anymore, they don’t react to him the same way. he doesn’t think he likes them much either though because they’re so much more annoying when it’s so fucking bright. 

but robin (robin who cycles to work with sunglasses on and doesn’t take them off till she has too) she turns the lights down during open and close. so those couple hours, it’s not so bad. not so stressful. a little bit less loud. 

after the mall burns down steve starts letting her in. tries too. she makes it obvious enough to him that she wants him there. she asks him to stay and calls him at night and he just wants to be enough for her. eventually he’d swallowed his pride and bolstered his courage and called her after a string of nightmares. asking her to stay the night. but then she was there, and it was like everything was thrown off. she was grating on his already freyed nerves but he didn’t know what to say. how to fix it without upsetting her. 

but that night, a mirror of the mall bathroom played out in steves en-suite. steve had freaked. hidden. but she didn’t leave. and he tried to explain. 

he needs her but he doesn’t know how to have her as a true friend. ‘i dunno how to talk to a girl if i don’t wanna date them. i uh, maybe, don’t really know how to talk to someone as myself. as a friend. sorry.’ 

‘well i don’t know how to talk to jocks so. same boat.’ and she has this glint in her eye. like she knows. and it’s okay. 

because robin, she made it simple. she makes it easy. she says just ask and she’ll be honest and give him a yes or no. she’ll say if she can’t be touched right now, or if the movie he chose is pissing her the fuck off. and she wants the same from him. if the music is too loud, if she needs to let him not speak for a while. wants him honest and present and real. real friends. someone close. finally. 

it’s rocky at first. she’s honest and he’s not used to it. it feel like criticism more often than not. makes him see red and lash out, like he was never able to with his parents. but he apologises and she stays. and he’s learning; that’s it’s okay, he’s not perfect and that means she’s knowing the real him. and she’s still his best friend even if he has to tell her to stop picking her nail polish off around him because it makes him want to die. and she laughs at him the first time she sees him in real recovery mode; hair not styled and he has on the only sweatshirt that ever feels good when he’s like this. 

they lay on the floor in darkness and silence. it’s perfect. they share a tin of soup and a grilled cheese. it’s perfect. 

being around robin as much as he is, its so new, having someone see so many parts of you. sometimes she laughs at him asking steve ‘why’d your voice change?’ but steve didn’t even know it had. he was, he was just talking to someone else quick, being nice like you’re supposed to, attentive to make them feel good. he didn’t know his voice changed that much. 

‘girls would like you more if you talked normal to them. how you do to me.’ 

steve swallowed thickly. he just. he just doesn’t know that thats true. nancy left, he talked to her about lots of things, too many things. she like him better at the start. before some of his black tar innards spilled out. before he freaked. before he was able to paste himself back together and she saw him for what he really is. 

he thinks of his parents. how they don’t know him and still don’t like him. anxiety prickles at his fingertips at the thought of those times they do come home. 

because with them there the routine he’s carved for himself, those quiet moments of darkness that he so craves. they’re gone. now it’s tv static and plates clanging and having to show his face at dinner again. but he’s not ten anymore. now he’s an adult whose still drowning in the tension of the room, never able to say what’s really going on, never allowed to ask how they really feel, never taught how to figure his feeling out. no listening ear for steve as a child, and the ice only grew thicker with time. 

it’s his skin itching at his mother stirring her tea across the house, spoon agains porcelain. it’s the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of ice clinking in his fathers scotch glass. it’s triggered memories playing over and over again. it’s being plagued, by ghosts who haunt him, who left but come back every so often, like poltergeists. polietgists with the deed to the house, and ownership over steve, through blood and fear alone. 

‘when they get back you come to mine steve yeah? you come home.’

because now theres not just robin. there’s eddie. 

he sees everything. and more. even when steve’s trying to hide. eddie sees. 

he noticed steve squinting at the hospital and asked the nurse to turn the lights down. he saw how he started zoning out at a diner with the kids, their arguing reaching a pitch, asked steve to keep him company for a smoke break. once they were outside eddie said he just needed a moment, ‘those kids can be animals’. said it and looked a him like he didn’t need an answer, let steve just breathe a focus on the sound of the wind. 

it’s like there’s a million tiny moments, a million tiny cracks in him forming the more he’s around eddie. like his soft underbelly is mewling any time he’s around, wanting attention, wanting to let eddie see. let eddie touch. 

eddie used to look at him sometimes, across the lunch hall. stare at him with an expression steve couldn’t really make sense of. he used to think it was judgment, annoyance. now he wonders if that face was confusion or interest. maybe eddie’s always been trying to figure steve out. 

once it starts. them. eddie’s everywhere. more somehow, maybe, than robin because, you know, they go there. but it’s different, from those time, with those girls. instead now he’s there and his brains off and on in a, like, magical way. a new way that makes him feel whole and, and beautiful. 

this thing they have. it’s fragile. it’s not perfect. he messes up, takes him a moment to grasp how eddie can be so so himself, always, no matter what. especially when it causes him problems. ‘why not just try and fit in?’ but the stone faced reply told steve that was the wrong thing to say, he didn’t get it but he needed to respect it. respect eddie and his choices. ‘i’m not like you steve, even if my brain shit was all gone i’d still be poor, i’d still be othered. still be a gay weirdo little freak.’ 

and steve is trying to get it. he’s learning to recognise that it’s sadness and confusion in eddie’s eyes when he visits him at work, knowing steve is having a bad day and watching him pretend. watching that mask form thick and fast, hiding the real him, protecting but also keeping everyone far far away. steve thinks maybe they’re living parallels. finding different ways to survive. neither better, neither worse. both far from perfect. 

then that pinched sadness in eddie’s eyes. watching steve pretend. cover up. that damn breaks eventually. eddie sees all of him and more. those bits he always kept locked inside. between he and himself. it all comes spilling out. 

they were supposed to be going out soon. but eddie wasn’t feeling it anymore ‘let’s just stay here, be cozy a little longer. what do you say, sweetheart?’ it does sound nice. steves so tired. but they decided. they had a plan. 

‘we said we would. and i have to buy that thing eddie. we had a plan. and i have to go to work later, so we have to do it before. like we said and then i have to work eddie.’ and before he knows it there’s tears prickling his eyes and the ceiling fan is so loud and the desk lamp is too bright and he smacks a fist to the top of his head and it hurts a little but he’s so frustrated and so overwhelmed and so confused and embarrassed, suddenly. and he can’t breath. why can’t he breath? they had a plan. 

they were supposed to go see hopper and pick something up and he has to talk to him and ask about the game because he needs hopper to like him because it’s better when el can come when all the kids hangout. it’s important that she’s happy so hopper needs to trust steve so steve was going to talk to him today and pick something up. it was the plan. hopper makes him nervous but that was the plan. and then he had to go to work. but now he can’t breathe and he feels like he needs something to hurt. 

‘but he already trusts you with el stevie. hop trusts you with anything.’ 

‘i can’t know that. not for sure. when i talk to him it needs to be perfect.’ steve paces. a pinch at his arm. a tug at his hair. pivot. pace. repeat. 

‘i heard what he said to you steve, on your birthday, he was calling you son all day. you don’t need to prove anything to him.’ 

‘i do eddie! you don’t understand. people, they lie. adults lie. they don’t say things the way they mean. i can’t fuck up talking to him. not like i always fuck up talking to my parents. i need to do it better. do it differently. because everyone always leaves. and i just don’t want to be alone again.’ and the tears really start to fall and steve can barely breath and he’s so embarrassed. shaking hands try and cover his face but the tears slip through. 

and all he can think about is the plan. going to work. his vest hanging by the door. the way the plastic tapes feel in his hands. the smell of the bleach they mop the back room with. the day stretches before him. so many things in the way. so much anxiety still to come. if he can’t start, it can’t end. he gnaws at his lip. thumps a hand to his chest, trying to breath right, trying to ground. 

‘i have to go to work’ he mutters. like a prayer. speak it in to happening. taking him away from the now. thump thump thump at his chest. ear ringing. 

eddie’s holding his arms out, giving steve the option. he speaks so calmly, so earnest. ‘you can’t go to work steve. not like this baby.’

steve rounds on him. angry. when did everything get so messed up? if he was just left alone. he should’ve stayed on his own. ‘i cant just call in sick eddie! i’m not sick and and i hate the way they’ll sound when i say it over the phone and knowing what they’ll be thinking about me. they’ll know i hate the job and think i’m lazy and realise how stupid and useless i am and fire me. i can’t afford to get fired eddie. i’d rather just go in.’ he know it comes out garbled, his cheeks on fire. 

‘i’m not letting you go in steve. i’ll sort it. i’ll go pick up robin before and she’ll cover for you, she’ll explain. and she would never. ever think that of you.’ eddie’s voice dropped octave. he speaks clearly and plainly and finally there’s a new plan to follow. a new rule for the day. 

and all steve can do is curl up in a ball and sob. curl up in a ball against eddie chest, in his arms, squeezing his t-shirt between his fingers. clenching his muscles tight, his teeth grinding together. grunting out some of the decade old scream, still stuck there but more visible to him now. 

until finally finally, he relaxes. spent and exhausted. too afraid to open his eyes and face the lamplight, face what could be in eddie’s expression. he drifts..

eventually he gets up, blows his nose and splashed water on his face, turns off all the lights and get back under the warm blanket. fills his lungs. sighs. whispers, ‘m’sorry’ 

‘don’t say that. there’s nothing to apologise for’ eddie’s so close, so warm. 

‘no one’s supposed to ever, see that.. it’s okay if you want to leave’ 

‘steve. why the fuck would i leave you right now?’ 

‘who’d wanna date someone who acts like that? it’s. it’s not good eddie. but, but it’s okay. i’m used to being alo-.’ 

‘please stop stevie. your breaking my heart here. i want to stay, i want to be here with you. i really really like you steve.’ and steve’s cheeks feel wet again. he feels flayed open and young, like a little kid who fell off the swings and everything is different suddenly. 

later later when eddie picks robin up from work she stalks in to where steve’s wrapped up on the couch. curls up into his side and exhales. she bites into his bicep. huffing a sad, annoyed little ‘dingus’ before grabbing his hand and fiddling with his fingers. 

steve feels his eyes prickle again. looking up at the ceiling he croaks out a small ‘sorry.’ for the day. for everything. for anything he can be. and everything he can’t. 

robin kneels on the sofa right next to him. growling a little and placing one of her hands at his sternum and the other at the same height on his back. like she’s forcing herself inside him, holding him together. her hands start to rub up and down quickly, frenzied and grounding for both of them. steve let’s his head hang. eyes closing at the sensation. he grunts. robin grunts back. 

eddie joins. sitting at his other side. slipping a hand in steve’s hair, soothing his scalp with long scratching fingers. and steve humms, sighs, keens. eyes closed he drifts but not away from his body, instead into it. with gratitude, and warmth. at the centre of the two best things that ever happened to him. willing to try again. be just, better. never perfect. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

pt 3 snippet

a little happier for u @pearynice <3

ty @spectrum-spectre @vampyreddiemunson @fangirlycupcake @grandwretch for ur tags and additions, it was very inspiring

and tags for lovely @irethsune @willim-billiam-byerson @2jug2head

[aziraphales-library]

I remember a fair few fics where the premise is vaguely “Aziraphale does a blessing/miracle/other religious thing on Crowley and it’s strange/overwhelming/etc for all involved”. I just can’t… find any of them. I remember them being various ratings, pure fluff to pure smut

Your best bet is the divinity kink tag on AO3. Here are some to get you going...

The Agony And The Ecstasy by entanglednow (T)

A split second decision by Aziraphale to save them both from discovery leaves Crowley experiencing something he is unprepared for.

your love is sunlight by EveningStarcatcher (M)

“Why wait?” Crowley’s voice was faint, almost a whisper, but lined with the usual forced nonchalance. “What?” Aziraphale froze, brow slightly furrowed. “Just, I don’t have to wait.” Crowley’s cheeks flushed. “Could be all better right now. I mean. I-if you wanted.” “Are you asking me to heal you?” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with something… divine.

A Negative Integer by racketghost (E)

“I’m the holy object,” Aziraphale says, and is also looking frantically around the room, the bookshop, the skylight filtering in the first glimpses of afternoon sun and holding dust particles suspended in their beams, dreamy and soft. “I can’t touch you.” “Yes you can,” he blurts out, and swallows down the cacophony of what are sure to be any number of embarrassing and hopeful ways in which the angel can touch him, really, whenever.

Bleak Without and Bare Within by Princip1914 (E)

Perhaps Crowley was right, Aziraphale thought. They were both working very hard in sometimes very awful places and for what? It was obvious that they couldn’t give up on temptations and blessings entirely--someone would notice, they had to surely--but combining forces here and there? What had Crowley called it, lending a hand, when necessary? It didn’t sound too bad. It didn’t sound like a good idea either, but Aziraphale supposed that was the whole point. It was a morally neutral proposition, and everything would still get done in the end. “I agree.” Aziraphale said finally. “As long as you accept that we’re going to have to teach one another.” Or, an angel learns to Tempt, a demon learns to Bless and things get a bit out of hand at the beginning of an unusual Arrangement.

Divine Hands by WanderingAlice (T)

After the end of the world didn’t come, Crowley had planned to spend a lot more time with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale didn’t seem opposed to the idea at all. Unfortunately there’s one glaring problem. Crowley has a strong, uncontrollable panic reaction to being touched by something divine. And Aziraphale cannot turn off his own divinity. A Good Omens Holiday Exchange fic written for the prompt: After the Notpocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale start getting closer...but they find out together that Crowley has deep-seated trust issues triggered by something about Aziraphale that he can't help. They have to overcome it together.

sanctuary by moonyinpisces (T)

“You’re staring.” “Oh dear,” says Aziraphale, completely unapologetic. “How rude of me.” Crowley begins to smile something slow, bright, and lovely, but he schools it with a bite to his lower lip. Aziraphale thinks of the way he looked two millennia ago, pressed up against the wall with Aziraphale's blessing healing his wounds, the only demon to experience divine ecstasy and live to tell the tale. How Aziraphale's hands itch to do it again, and again, and again. Crowley opens his mouth as if to say something, but then stops and spins around instead to go back to stirring the curry. “Shut up,” he says to the stove, flustered.

- Mod D

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Epilogue

Joel makes good on his promise to date you, at least once.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Just a slutty lil farewell to our resident Jackson masseuse and her grumpy-arse maybe sorta boyfriend, smut, vaginal fingering, sexy times, stockings that are far too thin for early Spring. Minors DNI

A/N: Another thank you for your support of this little story that ended up being a bit bigger and more complex than I expected. I went there because of your encouragement. Thank you, always.

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

The season was turning, but there was still a chill of a nighttime. It had been six weeks since Joel returned to Jackson, the medical supplies he and the second expedition managing to find and defend ensuring a healthy and safe Jackson for at least another two winters. The whole energy of the place, the optimism, was back in the community, and you had thrived in it, started to bloom alongside the wildflowers dotting the pathways into town.

You’d spent the time working, teaching Ellie, occasionally hanging around Joel’s place while he convalesced, first in his bed, then on the new-ish couch Tommy had found and dragged in through the back door. It wasn’t leather like his old one, and the springs stuck out in the centre so that you had to be very careful where you sat, but it was better than the rocking chair, and it was enough for him to sit still in for at least a few weeks.

He kept promising that he was going to date you, at least once if you’d let him, and each time you’d fobbed him off, telling him he had to get better first, that he was no good to you limping, that you wanted him marginally less grumpy if he could manage it. You weren’t sure why you were stalling, other than that you felt you were toes to the edge of a precipice.

When you were little your little family of four had driven out to the Grand Canyon, and you’d stood on the edge of the red dirt and been totally overwhelmed by the size of it, of all the negative space, the absence. You’d found yourself, aged eight and a half, ready to cry and even now, thirty years later, you remembered the howling wind, the echo of it.

You thought about the beauty of it, now. Now that you had seen so much worse, so much more, you reminded yourself that people used to travel entire countries to see the Grand Canyon. In your mind’s eye you entered your memories and stood beside yourself, your child self, and took her hand. You pointed to the sky, drew her eyes up and away from the ground beneath. Felt her pulse race under your touch as you showed her that the magnitude of it was the beauty in it, was the point of it all.

You accepted Joel’s invitation for the next Friday night. Then you ran to Maria’s to find something to wear.

--

You were supposed to meet at 8, a respectable time after dinner so as not to feel like you needed to have a meal; a more casual time, a more intimate time, when you could drink and chat and only stay an hour if you found it wasn’t working. It was both an in and an out.

Except that you were late, your last client having not only stored muscle tension in his fascia but emotional tension as well, and as soon as you had pushed into the glute he had unleashed years of mourning, of loss, of fears. You had stopped, wrapped him in a towel and pulled him upright, stood back and let him shake with the force of it. It wasn’t new, that people would come with muscle aches and discover trauma aches instead, but you lost track of time trying to put him back together again, trying to assure him of his safety. Tommy was right; sometimes it doesn’t come out until you feel safe enough to let it.

But it meant by the time you were pulling your door open you were about forty minutes late. Your cheeks burned with the shame of it, your timekeeping one of your strengths in the before-times, in the times when you had no other responsibilities other than the hell of being 15.

Joel was coming up your path and you stopped, nearly dropping the jacket you were still trying to pull over your shoulders. You couldn’t read his expression in the dark but his eyes were on you, and he was coming up, fast.

‘Joel, I’m so sorry,’ you started, as he strode towards you and up your porch. ‘I got caught up with a client, I couldn’t leave until they were…’ his hands were on you then, gripping you to him, your jaw resting in his warm palm.

‘You OK?’ he asked you, his eyes searching yours.

‘I’m fine, of course I am,’ you said, flustered, under the intensity of his inspection. ‘I just couldn’t…he was so sad, Joel. I had to stay.’

He nods at this, his jaw ticking. You resisted the urge to reach up and sink your fingertips into the masseter. ‘Were you worried about me, Joel?’ you asked, and he narrowed his eyes at you, then, suddenly freezing up.

‘Thought you weren’t coming, or that you were…thought maybe something had happened,’ he said, and you felt yourself soften.

‘I’m fine. And I would never stand you up,’ you said, moving to hold him around his waist, to circle him in your arms, only able to reach halfway around him, broad as he was. He avoided your eyes, the worry etched deep into his brow.

You still hadn’t kissed him. All of the things he had done to you, the way he had pulled you apart under his hands, his mouth, spread around his cock, nothing so intimate as a kiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, low and velvet in your throat. ‘I really like you, Joel,’ you went on, and he finally met your gaze, again. The naked vulnerability in it making you pause. You wondered how many people had ever seen this side of him. You suspected he could count them on one paw.

‘It’s late,’ he said, and started to pull away from you. ‘Maybe we should try again some other time.’ To your dismay he had nearly turned his back to you, and without thinking you grabbed him around the middle and tried to turn him back.

‘Wait,’ you said, and he hissed then, his muscles seizing. You let go of him, horrified.

‘M’ok,’ he muttered, raising his hand to stop you from rushing toward him. ‘Just…still gettin’ there, is all.’

‘Come in, please,’ you said, not touching him, not moving towards him, hoping your voice would be enough to get him to stay. ‘It’s cold, I have a bottle of whiskey Tommy slipped me when you were in the hospital, I can…’

‘You needed whiskey, baby?’ he said, and he had that lopsided grin on his face again, and you wanted to lick it off him. ‘Were you worried about little ole me?’

Never mind, you wanted to slap it off.

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ you said, rolling your eyes and turning back to your door. ‘Don’t get all cute just because I got scared when you nearly died,’ you said, and you heard him chuckle. You entered your house and turned to him, one hand on the door. ‘In or out?’ you asked, and you knew that you were talking to the both of you, knew that he wasn’t the only one facing the indecision, knew that you palming the responsibility off onto him, that you would accept his decision even if it meant never talking to him again. He hesitated, but only for a moment.

--

He was back in your kitchen, on the same chair from a more recent before-time, from before he’d found a place for himself somewhere under your skin. You were both sipping your whiskey, listening to the crackling fire in the other room, letting the silence seep out and blanket you. He was still enormous, still took up nearly half the space, and you ceded all of it to him.

‘Ellie speaks the world of you,’ he said, after a while, and you knew that this was important to him, that first and foremost he was her dad, her keeper and her protector.

‘She’s a lovely kid,’ you said, and then corrected yourself. ‘Not a kid. She’d fucking kill me if she knew I said that.’

He chucked into his glass. ‘Won’t tell her,’ he promised.

‘How’s that healing?’ you asked, gesturing to his wrist. It wasn’t in a splint anymore but it was still tightly bandaged.

‘S’just weak, aches in the cold,’ he said, and you nodded. You reached out and pulled it towards you, lay it on the kitchen table between you. You slipped the bandage away, watched the blood rush back in and pink up the flesh underneath it.

‘You need to stretch it, keep it strong,’ you said. ‘Bones probably healed but now the muscles’ll be lazy.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ he said, and you glanced up at him, at the crinkles in his skin and the warmth in his eyes as he teased you.

‘I mean it,’ you said, pretending to be offended, using it as an excuse to slip your hands around his wrist, his forearm. You felt the chords of the muscles there, the sinew and the veins. You rubbed your thumbs in firm circles, like you had shown him to do on your knee, all those weeks ago. You blushed at the thought of it, at the echo of the pleasure he had wrung from you not ten paces away.

He grunted a little, shifted in his seat, and you pulled his arm up at a right angle, so that his elbow was resting on the table. ‘Here, do this,’ you said, and you slipped your fingers between his, rested your forearm against his, leant in a little to ease your combined weight onto the joint.

‘I’m going to try and push your hand backwards, you push back,’ you said.

‘We arm wrestlin’?’ he asked, smiling again.

‘We will if you don’t behave yourself,’ you shot back, and he grinned.

‘Tell me when,’ he said, and you nodded your head. He grimaced at the strain through the joint, but you felt it stretch, felt it working under the force you were applying to it.

‘That’s good,’ you said, without thinking, ‘doing real well.’ He sucked a shy little breath in through his teeth. You stopped pushing, looking up into his pink cheeks. You continued to hold his hand, your eyes fixed to his.

‘Say it again,’ he said, and your mouth went dry.

‘Doing real well, Joel,’ you said, and watched as he blinked slowly, drinking it in. ‘Doing so good.’

He pulled you then, by the arm, out of your chair and into his lap, his mouth finding your neck and suckling, hard, as you struggled for purchase on his thighs. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, the pulse of it pushing into your cunt as you settled yourself down on him, your thin little stockings under Maria’s borrowed dress doing absolutely nothing to provide a barrier against his throbbing for you.

He gasped, looked up at you as you perched above him. His pupils, blown wide with want, mirroring the ache you felt between your legs and in your heart for him. He tasted like peppermint toothpaste and you wondered idly if he’d brushed his teeth before heading to the Bison, if he’d hoped this would be the end result of the night or if it was just habit. You smelt the leather of his worn jacket. You reached up and let his salt and pepper beard scratch at the skin on your fingertips.

‘So good to us, Joel,’ you said, and you heard the gentlest whimper catch in his throat. ‘Looking after the town. Keeping us safe.’

‘Want to keep you, baby,’ he whispered, his eyes dropping to examine your lips. ‘Keep you tucked up all warm and safe, keep you under my roof where I know you’re protected.’ You shivered, at the heat of it, at the sincerity in it. ‘Be the one to shield you. All sweet and soft in your little kitchen. Wanting me, waiting f’me.’ He finished, biting his bottom lip.

‘I want you,’ you said, simply, feeling his cock jump underneath you.

‘Yeah?’ he asked, and you nodded.

‘Been waiting,’ you bit out, realising for the first time that it was true.

‘M’sorry baby,’ he said, playfully goading you. ‘Where did ya want me?’ he whispered, tucking his head under your chin and licking a stripe up your neck, chewing idly on your earlobe. You shivered again, a shuddering little thing that also came with a whimper. You took his hand from your waist and dropped it to your pussy, pushed his fingers to cup you there, gasping when he ran a fingertip along your seam.

‘Everywhere,’ you whispered, and he grunted, shifting his weight. With one warm hand splayed across your shoulder blades he leant you back, his eyes running up and down your body, devouring you. He kept his hand on your cunt, idly running a finger up and down where you ached the most for him, and you worried for a moment that he would feel how wet he’d made you just with his gaze.  

His breath was warm across your cheeks when he exhaled. He took the hand from between your legs and cupped your breast, rolled the nipple through your dress, made you whimper.

‘Joel,’ you whispered, and you watched as his eyes lit up, as the sparks caught on kindling and turned into a forest fire, as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the strain. You wanted to run your tongue over his bottom lip, nip at it.

‘Sssh, baby, I know,’ he said, pulling you up off his lap to stand in front of him, your knees shaking. His arms bracketed your hips, gripping the table behind you, so you were surrounded by him. He remained seated, watching you from under heavy eyelids.

‘Take it off,’ he said, and you felt your pulse in your neck, thunderous.

‘Which?’ you asked.

‘Maria’s dress you don’t think I recognise, those silly little stockings that ain’t doing nothin’ to keep out the cold.’

He leant back on the chair again, kicked his legs out so that you were standing between his ankles now, leant his arm on the back of the chair and scratched at his beard. ‘Well, go on,’ he said, and you felt so exposed to him then, vulnerable in the heat of his stare.

‘Help me,’ you said, feigning not being able to get to the zipper, just for the excuse of turning away from him, from his eyes that were taking you apart atom by atom, from his hands resting on his thigh, from his thick fingers you wanted to slip into your mouth, let him push down on your tongue and suckle at him.

You felt his hands on your back, the zip coming down, the way he slipped the dress from you like he was unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. You leant over a little, trying to slip your stockings off and you heard him moan, felt his hands on you again, his warm paw on your lower back pushing you into a deeper bend, the other pulling on your hips to bring you closer to him, his hands gripping you, positioning you. You heard his sharp inhale when you slipped the stockings over your bottom, felt your cheeks blaze when he reached up and slipped your panties off along with them, bent over and completely exposed to him, wet and glistening in the light of the kitchen, the sound of your gasped little whimpers mixing with the ever-present whir of your forty-year-old fridge.

‘Oh, my girl,’ he said, and you wanted to launch yourself at him, seat yourself back on his lap and bury your head in his neck but he was running his hands up and down the back of your thighs, edging himself closer on the chair, pushing you forward so that your breasts rested on the kitchen table, your cheek flush to the cold wood.

He bent his head and placed a single kiss at the base of your spine and you worried your knees would buckle, worried you would collapse onto the kitchen tile. As you gasped he brought his hands up to cup your bottom, spreading your cheeks enough to slip a thumb into your cunt, probe the warmth and feel the wet collecting on his fingertip. You startled, trying to buck away, trying to buck towards him, circling your hips to capture him inside you, and you heard him chuckle, felt his lips dip lower to your tailbone as he twisted his hands, his thumb still inside as his fingers came around to cup and rub at your slit, your poor little aching clit caught between his fingertips.

‘Jesus,’ you cried, finding religion despite never having set foot in a church.

‘Want to keep you full of me,’ he muttered, sitting back down on the chair again and pulling you with him, spreading your legs over his so you were open wide, obscene and dripping in his lap, pulling your legs apart with his and whispering filth in your ear, cupping your breast with one hand and the other sliding into your heat.

‘Want to keep you here, my pretty girl all safe and warm in my arms, full of my cock and my fingers, crying out for me when I’m not there.’ You were gasping, your vision narrowing, barely able to concentrate on anything except for his words, for his fingers stretching you, his legs pulling you impossibly wide. ‘Won’t let nothin’ hurt ya, baby girl,’ he grit out, and you felt a sob rip through your throat, the pleasure he was drawing out of you mixing with the comfort, with the intoxicating allure of him protecting you, of him standing between you and so many terrors.

In your right mind you wouldn’t have believed him. Would have known there were things out there even the great Joel Miller couldn’t topple, that there were threats known and unknown, seen and unseen, things out there wanting to spill your blood, the blood of the people you cared the most for. But Joel was inside you, in your cunt and in your ear, and his words were chipping away at your resistance, sliding under the door long ago locked tight. You were far from your right mind. You surrendered to the seduction of it, of the intoxication of it, of the myth this man was peddling that you would buy again and again and again.

‘There she is,’ he said, as you came on his fingers, your cunt gripping him and your hips rolling, his face pressed hard into your neck as you twisted into the agony of it, your mouth open and gasping, your face turned to the Gods.

You felt his fingers underneath you, one hand wrapped tight around your torso to hold you steady as he released himself from his jeans, and you felt him then, pressed against the back of your thigh, the velvet heat of his length, the thundering throb of it. You had barely caught your breath, had yet to fully come back to yourself, before he was pushing himself into you, pulling you onto him, your neck caught in his teeth as he bit down on the nape, tried to stifle the groan blooming in his chest.

He felt bigger this way, the stretch even sharper despite his best attempts to prepare you, and your walls fluttered, fought to accept him. You shuddered, the sudden sting slamming you back into your body, and you gripped his hands to stop him, to pause. He stilled immediately, his breath hot and gasping.

‘Give me a minute,’ you gritted out, leaning back onto his shoulder and burying your nose in his jaw, panting, placing a placid little kiss to the salt and pepper patches there.

You felt him reach around you, his finger finding your clit and gently circling it, collecting your slick and pushing it over the nub to rid you of any friction. You groaned, arching your back against him, your hands digging into the meat of his thighs underneath you.

‘So beautiful like this,’ he whispered into your ear as you felt the pleasure overtake you, the throb in your cunt synchronised to your thundering pulse. ‘Can feel you gripping me,’ he went on. ‘Stuffed fulla me, baby.’

‘Stop,’ you gasped, the moment suddenly too intense, a fear gripping you then that if he kept talking you would give him anything; the shirt off your back, the blood in your veins. He chuckled, watching you struggle to take the pleasure he was pushing into you, through you.

It was wrong but you couldn’t figure out why, because it still felt so fucking good, and you wanted more but couldn’t figure out how it was possible, not sated by him seated fully inside you, not close enough to him as you pressed your body entirely against yours. You huffed, frustrated, standing before he could stop you and pivoting to face him, straddling him again in the chair and sinking yourself down on him in one swift motion, so that he gasped and then groaned when the heat of you enveloped him, joined you in a harsh cry when your clit met his hipbone and you settled there, shifted your hips to press into the nub.

‘S’better,’ you said, and you watched his lopsided grin emerge.

‘My girl miss seeing me?’ he asked, and you rolled your hips to shut him up, watched any semblance of cogent thought leave him when you gripped him there.

‘Say it again, Joel,’ you said, sliding your hips forward and back in a way that you knew wasn’t enough for him, but was making your clit throb when it grazed over his skin. He grunted, suddenly finding it hard to think clearly, and his brows saddled.

‘Keep you safe?’ he said, uncertain but meaning it anyway, and you shook your head.

‘Keep who safe?’ he asked.

‘You,’ he answered, still not following, and you planted your feet on the floor, raised yourself up just to bounce back down again.

‘Who am I, Joel?’ you asked, nearly breathless, and finally, finally he understood, his little huffed out laugh sending a thrill through you as he reached down between your bodies, felt where you were joined.

‘My girl,’ he said, finding your clit and edging his fingertips across it, sending fireworks up your spine. ‘My beautiful girl, so tight and wet, so needy for me, cryin’ out for me in her kitchen.’

You groaned, feeling him grip you around the middle with one arm, lifting you up and down on his cock, rocking into you and always, always, always watching your face, nibbling at your chin when you leant back to gasp for air.

You were going to come. It was too fast. You still had so many other things you wanted to say to him, wanted him with every atom of you, with every fibre, the neurons in your brain lighting up just for him. Wanting to live in the torrent of pleasure he brought out in you, wanted to twist and writhe in it. You felt, again, on the edge of tears, but not for wanting, this time. Not for the losses.

For the having. Of Jackson, of the wildflowers on the paths pushing past the cold. Of the little family you had eked out at the end of the world, of Ellie, of Tommy and Maria and Robin. Of this man under your body and on your kitchen chair, calling you his and promising to keep you safe. Of this man, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion and clinging to him, willingly readying yourself to cascade over it.

‘Want you right here, always,’ he grunted, and you keened, felt it then, that you were wanted, that you belonged.

You didn’t have the words for it, vowed in that moment that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find them. For right now you did the only thing you could think of, leaning over and gripping his jaw, angling his face to you as you landed your lips on him, kissed him as you felt a tear streak across your cheek and onto his skin, as you shuddered and felt your cunt milking him, as he spilled into you and you joined him, the ecstasy and the pleasure and the warmth of it. In your little house in Jackson, behind enormous walls, to hold you.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

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[ryker-writes]

Can I request form leaders with an mc who bites people out of love?

I do that i lot of times lmao, it entering seeing their reaction sometimes

Of course! I get the urge to just do that too sometimes-

Also posting this one from my phone instead of my usual computer so I hope everything looks fine

Request rules and Masterlists

Riddle:

confused

his first instinct is off with your head but he refrains

he is very red

you need to explain yourself immediately

if you don't it will be off with your head

when you do explain he's still confused

biting out of love?

he's never heard of such a thing

he will come to accept it with a lot of time but he'll tell you to maybe not bite him when others are around

he just get's so embarrassed if others see it

Will eventually calm down and accept it is you bite him without others round

Leona:

you're playing a dangerous game here

you biting him means he has the right to bite you back

and he will

be careful because he has sharp teeth

he doesn't even question it he just already knows why

he really doesn't mind it

so what if people see you bite him?

you do it out of love so there's no reason to hide it

he's actually pretty smug about it

Azul:

he's broken

wh-why did you bite him????

he's more red than Riddle

Demands and explanation

Love? You bite people out of love?

He’s pretty sure humans don’t usually do this

Like Riddle, he doesn’t want you to do it when others around

While he will be hesitant about you doing it at all, he’s willing to accept it if no one sees

But he’s going to die of embarrassment every time regardless if people see or not

If people do see he’s going to flee and want to crawl into his octo-pot

Kalim:

huh?

he doesn't even understand what happened but he's very calm about it

You bit him? Okay. Why?

Very calm about it all

When you tell him that you bit him out of love, he’s super excited about it

That’s so sweet!

Expect him to start biting too at random times

When Kalim sees you he’s just so happy and he cares about you so much that he just starts walking up and biting you

Jamil is so confused

Kalim might start biting other people he loves too so…

Vil:

first of all, how dare you

Don’t you know it’s rude to bite people?

It’s animal-like

At first he thinks he needs to teach you how to behave around others

But then you tell him that you do it out of love and he’s conflicted

He appreciates your love but he can’t just have you biting him all the time

Perhaps there’s another way you can show your love?

If not he will accept the biting on a few conditions

First, you can not bite him when others are around and you two are completely alone in a room

He will not risk other people seeing or taking photos/videos

Second, you can’t bite him hard enough to leave a mark on his skin

Third, you can only bite spots on him that are pre-approved by him

As long as you follow these rules, he doesn’t mind it as much

Idia:

he's broken #2

Idia.exe has stopped working

as soon as you bite him he can't move or say anything

he's completely frozen

This is so much like this one anime he saw-

He’s so flustered

I’m sorry but he won’t be able to function anywhere near you for the next 2-3 business days

What was that?

Are you some sort of cannibal and he’s your next target?

Did he upset you some how and you were taking your rage out on him?

Eventually may send you a message that asks why you bit him

When you tell him it was out of love he’s broken again

You have to wait another 2-3 business days to hear from Idia again

He will accept it but will be embarrassed and freak out every single time

Not worried about you doing it near people since he’s rarely around other people anyway

Malleus:

w h a t

he's so lost

why are you biting him?

did he do something to offend you?

Do you feel threatened or attacked?

Whatever he’s done he hopes you can forgive him

But why do you bite and then smile at him?

He will calmly ask you why you just bit him

You do it out of love?

He’s now a very happy dragon

He assumes it’s a normal human thing he was unaware of

…this leads to him asking Silver why he never bites anyone

After finding out that it’s out of love, he accepts and loves whenever you bite him

He won’t be ashamed at all even if it’s in front of others

In fact, he kinda wants other people to see so they know just how much you care about him

Malleus wishes he could return the affection but he doesn’t want to bite you in fear of hurting you

His teeth are sharp and he often doesn’t know his own strength so he may bite to hard and accidentally hurt you

He would feel so bad if that happened

Do not let Sebek see you bite Malleus under any circumstances

That’s basically asking him to freak out and yell at you for hours

If Sebek sees Malleus accept it tho…he’s dying on the inside and you can see him struggle not to say anything in real time

Note: does Azul taste like octopus? Let me know...for science...