#that damn 'make them change clothes' prompt comes up ALL THE TIME

[rebelfell]

A li’l more self-indulgent bestfriend!eddie fluff…

reader w/ boobies, cont’d from here

“Do you, um…do you think you got a good enough look?”

Ringing. There’s a ringing in Eddie’s ears and he’s pretty damn certain his jaw is on the floor. And he is going to need about a million q-tips stat before he believes he actually heard those words come out of your mouth in that exact order.

Did he die? Is this a dream? A coma? Did he get trapped in the Matrix? If so, which color pill does he take to stay in it forever?

“Eddie? You okay?”

Your face fell the longer he took to respond, shrinking into yourself as worry washed over you.

Thinking you must have misread things, thinking he was just being nice, thinking you’ve just ruined everything by throwing yourself at the best friend you’ve ever had…

YES, YOU IDIOT! SAY FUCKING “YES” SAY SOMETHING YOU’VE BEEN QUIET FOR WAY TOO LONG SHE’S GONNA THINK YOU’RE—

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Pretty sure I hallucinated. Uhh…any chance you can repeat that?”

“Eddie…”

He can almost hear you scoff and see your eyes roll before it happens. You glance around, looking for where you tossed your bag when you got here, but Eddie reaches out and wraps his hand around your wrist. His thumb rubs over the delicate skin on the inside of it, praying he’s not imagining it that he can feel your pulse quickening underneath the calloused pad.

“Sweetheart, you just offered me the single greatest honor and privilege of my life,” he says. “Forgive me for wanting some extra reassurance. Seriously…how is that even a question?”

Relief floods Eddie’s brain as your lips slowly spread into a smile prettier than every sunset he’s ever seen before combined. His heart is pounding in his chest, all his other organs shuddering with the force, as your hands carefully pull from his grasp and drop to the hem of your shirt.

The pounding stops. His breathing stops.

Everything stops as you lift it off fully this time, letting it fall to the floor beside your feet. It lands in a heap and Eddie is struck with the urge to fold a piece of clothing for maybe the first time ever in his life. Because if you ask him, that thing should be in the Smithsonian behind a bulletproof glass barrier—the shirt you removed in his presence.

If that’s not historically significant, what is?

Except Eddie can’t even think about that any more, because now your arms are raising again and your hands are reaching behind your back to unhook the clasps of your bra.

Forget the Matrix. This is heaven.

He stares at you raptly, not even trying to hide the fact that his eyes are about to jump right out of his skull. Black lace falls to the floor and Eddie is tempted to join it, more than ready to sink to his knees for you and do whatever you say for the rest of his life. Only he can’t form the words to tell you that because all he can think about is how your bare fucking boobs are out in his room.

You are topless and literally a foot away from his bed and—god fucking damn it why didn’t he change his sheets?!

“Can I, um…”

His eyes dart between you and them, his mouth still agape. His hands flex at his side, his fingers trembling with the need to grip their softness, to mold and squish them in his palms, to roll your nipples between his thumb and index until he hears the sweet, sweet sound of your moans—

“Please,” you whisper.

Okay, yep. Definitely heaven.Only in heaven would you be the one pleading for Eddie to touch you.

“Fuck, they’re so pretty,” he sighs, almost mournfully, his eyes rounding as his hands came up to cup them gently. “How do you walk around with ‘em all day? I’d never get anything done if…”

He trails off, a flush coloring his cheeks, bashful smile making his dimples deepen.

“If, what?” you prompted.

“If they were mine.”

His eyes lifted to meet your gaze, deep brown irises brimming with heat. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and his hands stretch, his fingers spreading wider and squeezing tighter.

“They’re all yours, Eddie,” you tell him with a small smile. “Do whatever you like.”

He doesn’t need any further instruction.

A breathy laugh flutters in your chest as he buries his face in between them. Eagerly, as if he was trying to suffocate himself. Shit, maybe he is. He’d happily die right now with your warm flesh on his face, the scent of you in his nose, and his breath rippling down the middle of your sternum.

He kisses and kisses and kisses them, like he’s the pope and you’re the tarmac. And then he’s shaking his head back and forth, moaning and humming and groaning while you erupt giggles—downright giddy with all his attention on you.

It almost makes you feel…proud of your boobs.

Because there were ones out there that were bigger than yours; ones that were smaller than yours; ones more evenly sized or shapely that better filled out dresses or low-cut tops.

But none of those boobs were the ones currently reducing Eddie Munson to a puddle before your very eyes. That’s just yours.

And they are perfect.

Eddie jumps when he feels you pull away, his head popping up, his bangs mussed and sticking out to reveal his vast forehead and his panicked eyes. Shit, what did he do? Did he bite you? He could have sworn he only thought about doing that, but maybe—

You step backwards, smiling as you walk him to the bed and guide him down with you to lay on the mattress. He slides up next to you, his body finding a home against every dip and curve of yours. He looks at your face, brows raising in a silent question until you give him a nod.

“Can’t believe this is really happening,” he moans, burying his face back where it belongs. “I’ve wanted this so long, you have no idea...”

“How…how long?” you gasp, breathless as he kisses all over them, his tongue swiping over your nipples. “Eddie, how long have you felt like this?”

“Fucking forever,” he groans into your skin and the vibrations make waves across your chest. “Can’t remember the last time I went to bed and didn’t think about this…about you.”

And you know you should be melting. You know you should be flattered by what he’s saying and to be over the moon that the boy you’ve been in love with your whole goddamn life actually wants you too—but all you feel right now is rage.

“OW! What the—”

Eddie yelped as you reached over and pinched the skin on his stomach as hard as you could. He pulled away, staring down at your hand and the bright red spot it just made on his pale skin.

“You idiot!” you snapped. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wh…what?”

“I’ve been going out with losers for years trying to get over you.”

Eddie blinked back at you, his mouth falling open so he looked a bit like a carp with stage fright. His head started to shake back and forth, wiry curls rustling as he stammered out an answer.

“I…I thought…”

His head dropped, shoulders slumping as he thought of all the men he’d ever seen you with. Cool guys. Normal clothes. Normal interests.

No freaks.

“The guys you were picking were nothing like me. I…I figured I wasn’t your type.”

His big, round eyes flashed back up to yours and soundly vaporized all the anger that overtook you. Because it was true. You always avoided guys that reminded you of him. Always went for the dishes the polar opposite of the one you craved.

Because eating frozen yogurt only ever made you want ice cream more.

“You should have said something, Eddie,” you whisper. Half scolding, half an apology.

“You should have said something,” he countered.

But Eddie nodded, leaning in close to bump your head with his. It made you both smile, yours and his cheeks both pushing up as they touched. And then it wasn’t just your cheeks touching.

His lips met yours with a gentle brush. Almost accidental, but not quite. Delicate and light like the start of a snowfall. It made your stomach swoop and your neck stretch, chasing the feeling. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign of hesitation before he dove back in.

There was none.

“Now, if you don’t mind…” he smirked as he crawled on top of you, scooting down until his face was level with your chest, “I’m getting back to the greatest moment of my life. That okay?”

thank you for reading, love you mean it 😘

[psychotic-nonsense]

In October of 1967, Steve Harrington is born in Hawkins, Indiana.

He's raised there, forced to live under the strict expectations of his parents, Richard and Samantha. Barely escapes their clutches, freedom fueled by the kids and adults that take the role of guardian and family when the time is right. Keeps himself in check with the always impending apocalypses that arise beneath his feet.

In June of 1985 - when Steve Harrington is 18, while Richard and Samantha Harrington are visiting New York for an extended work trip - Veronica Harrington is born.

She was carried and raised in secret from their hometown. They take care of her between their business hours, dropping her in the hands of nannies and babysitters galore. They don't even think of Indiana during Veronica's early childhood, too focused on work and making sure their daughter starts up right.

In October of 1986 - when Steve Harrington is 19, aged further by ending the Vecna War, yet tamed by his newfound love in Eddie Munson - Richard and Samantha Harrington return to Hawkins.

They don't ask about what happened to their son. They don't ask about the town. They don't ask questions, just give responses to them. Sneering at Steve's friends, complaining about the state of the house, commenting at the disfunctional chaos their home has become.

In November of 1986, Richard and Samantha Harrington disown Steve.

They just let him go. They at least give him a folder of his legal documents, but otherwise just tell him to get out of their house and never use their name again. Claiming Steve doesn't need anything from the room because the Harrington's own everything in it. They don't call him son, they don't say goodbye, they don't acknowledge who's actually taken care of the house, they don't admit most of Steve's former room has changed with money Steve earned himself, they don't dare to give him any money or care where he goes. They just say they're sick of dealing with an unworthy mistake of a child, and force him out of their house.

In November of 1986, the Party's adults adopt Steve.

He runs to them first after everything happens. Held himself together at the start, but broke down the second the words were out. While everyone was trying to comfort Steve, Wayne Munson and Jim Hopper were the first to succeed. They know firsthand that this family would never be the same as blood, no matter how much that blood has boiled and burned before, but the love will be stronger and it will be here. When everyone seconds it, Steve finally accepts it. He becomes a child of the Party - he's everyone's son and everyone's brother, taking whatever surname he sees fit.

In November of 1986, Steve Henderson and Eddie Munson leave Hawkins.

Despite all this good, Steve can't bear to stay in this damned town a second longer, where everyone knows who he is and will soon know everything he isn't. And it's not like Eddie was looking forward to sticking around Hawkins either, especially without his Steve. The kids are the first to agree, surprisingly, and the adults promise to find a way for the boys to get out. Later that week, when Richard and Samantha leave the house to prepare for Veronica, Steve and Eddie break in to take everything that's rightfully theirs. While they're there, not sure what prompts him, Steve makes a bag of his clothes with shoes and his wallet tucked within it, shoving it into his closet. Dustin's mom uses an old favor to get the boys an apartment in Chicago, the Party has one last farewell, and the two boys are gone.

From 1986 onward, Veronica Harrington is raised in Hawkins, Indiana.

Richard and Samantha are adamant in their daughter coming out exactly how she should. They steadily convince the town to forget the Harringtons ever had a son and lock the room on the second floor next to the stairs without ever touching the inside. They raise her with formality and pride at the top of their expectations, wanting at least one child to come out right.

But Veronica is the spitting image of Steve's honesty and care. She puts on a facade when needed, but even at a young age, she wants nothing more than to be someone's light in the darkness. She plays with every lonely kid at school, and tries to make people laugh at the business parties she's dragged to. It's not received well by her parents, but Veronica is much too strong willed and stubborn to let it phase her.

In April of 1991 - when she's 6 and they're so much stronger around their hearts - Veronica Harrington meets Steve and Eddie Munson for the first time.

It's the year Erica is set to graduate high school. Steve and Eddie have been making the drive for every holiday this year, ordered determined to give her the best senior year she could have. It's Easter Sunday, and Wayne somehow managed to drag his boys away to church - a Munson custom, as even Eddie insisted they go.

While at the snack table post sermon, a little girl comes up to Steve, mistaking him for her father. He and Eddie gently comfort the girl, introducing themselves and offering to help the girl find her parents. That's when Veronica introduces herself, striking Steve deep in his heart. Still, he keeps quiet, even gifting her a little origami crane made from napkins at the table. He calls her "chickpea" for the color of her dress, tells her to keep the crane secret and safe, "If ever you need to find your way back home, you hold that close, and it'll tell you."

Meanwhile, Wayne has come across Richard and Samantha in the crowd opposite the kids. Exchanging formalities, Wayne mentions his son and nephew are in town, news the Harrington's are surprised at, as Wayne didn't seem like the father type. However, trying to keep face, they remain civil and insist on introducing their daughter.

Cue Veronica running to her parents with Steve and Eddie in tow. Cue Steve calling Wayne dad right to Richard's face. Cue the Harrington's immediate leave from the church, Veronica waving behind her with a crane placed carefully in her pocket.

From then on, Veronica Harrington's life changes indefinitely.

Her parents' expectations grow tenfold. She finds out she's horribly allergic to chickpeas. All of her friends must be approved by her parents, and any that don't fit their image are ordered to leave her.

Veronica takes these changes in stride - is her class's top student, captain of the softball and volleyball teams in junior high, keeps the friends she wants in secret from her parents - but she can't help but keep the crane in a little box in her room. Gets a necklace with a little origami crane pendant, holds it whenever she needs to make a hard choice. Can't help but expand herself in secret, learn things her parents would never approve of - lock picking, other languages, sleight of hand, a clothing style that's nothing like the dark blues of her family, all warmth and light. She explores every room in her house, yet is unable to find her way into that room upstairs next to the steps.

In May of 1998, Veronica Harrington discovers the truth about her brother.

She's about to be a freshman. Her class was touring the high school in preparation, and while passing the athletics hall, her eyes hit the swimming trophies. Each row stuffed with trophies, and each one with a name that stabbed her right in the stomach: Steve Harrington.

After that, she couldn't bear all the secrecy anymore. Late that same night, she finally uses her lock picking skills to break into that room. And though it's devoid of life, it is a bedroom, so evidently lived in. It's frozen in time, twisted sheets covered in dust, old papers crinkled from being stepped on but not picked up, old clean clothes still sitting in the hamper. It's a boy's room, clearly, and Veronica is careful walking around this place of memories.

She does still explore, quietly clicking on lights around the room, too cautious to touch the overhead lights. She looks under the bed, finding a bat and a trash can lid, both embedded with rusty nails. A shirt that still smells like fresh laundry yet has a back stained permanently with long red lines down the shoulders. Dozens of stapled documents labeled NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT, detailing horrific events that each have that same name signed at the bottom.

With shaking hands she checks the closet, and finds it mostly empty. All except for a deep green graduation robe and cap, a cream Hawkins High letterman, and a duffel bag hidden in the back corner. The cap has a 1985 tassel, and the letterman has Harrington branded on the back with basketball and swimming patches galore. And the bag, when she checks it, looks like a survivalist pack someone would make in an apocalypse. At the top sits a wallet, and inside is an ID for a Steve Harrington, who has the same face as the one in her origami memories.

And Veronica is done. She wakes up the next morning and throws Steve's jacket on the kitchen table, startling both her parents mid sip of coffee. She finds herself in a screaming match with her father, demanding them to quit lying to her, begging to know who her brother is.

In a fit of rage, Richard tells her. Tells her everything Richard and Samantha never saw in Steve, about Veronica's secret birth, the disownment, Steve's disappearance from the Harrington house and Hawkins. She's reminded of that one Easter Sunday, and is told how Richard and Samantha faked Veronica's allergy to keep her mind from being tainted by whatever curse befell their bloodline before. Orders her to never say that name again.

In a fit of rage, Veronica bites back. Calls her parents cruel and overly expectant. Comes clean about her secret freedom. Says she'd rather be nothing than ever carry the burden of the Harrington name ever again.

She hides away in her room after the fight. Cries in her closet with her origami box cradled tightly to her chest, begging it to take her home because this place isn't anymore, maybe never was. Cries for the brother she never even got to meet, who went through so many horrible things yet still got put through this same punishment. Cries for the future she won't get to have, losing her hope for a new beginning that will now never be.

At the start of June, 1998, Veronica runs away.

She makes it through the rest of May in near silence. She writes notes for all of her friends at the end of the school year, and one for her parents to inevitably find. Finds 75 dollars in Steve's old wallet, stuffs the duffel bag the rest of the way with her belongings, and says goodbye to Hawkins.

She takes the first bus she can find out of town. Doesn't care that it's going to Chicago, doesn't really care where she's going now. She befriends an old homeless man riding the bus as well, becomes another interesting name in his "Book of Wanders (Pronounced as Wonders)." As Veronica's telling the story about unknowingly meeting her brother, she remembers the crane in her bag. She reaches in to retrieve the little box, then the crane, nearly crying seeing how disheveled and unfolded it is. Broken and doomed, just like her. But looking at it now after so long, she thinks she sees something written inside it. Despite it shattering her heart pieces, she carefully unfolds the little crane.

At its center, in old, bleeding blue text, reads, "Find the Swooping Bat if you've lost your way."

The old man laughs then, taking Veronica's hand and placing it onto her chest, over her heart. "It's fate," he whispers in the dark bus. "There's a place called that in Chicago."

Veronica uses her money to rent them both a hotel for the night, giving the old man a warm bath for the first time in weeks. She gifts him the clothes as well, saying it's, "an honorary thanks from my brother, for helping me get here." They bid each other farewell in the morning, the old man telling her to keep hold of fate.

She finds her way to the Swooping Bat easily, hand on her necklace guiding her way. It's a quaint little diner, popular enough to be comfortably warm when she walks in. A young lady in a wheelchair - Max, says her nametag, with pins saying things like, "Summer work blows" and "USC grad or bust!" resting on her collar - guides her to a booth next to the sunrise.

"Anything I can get you today?" Max asks when Veronica's seated.

Veronica's fully ready to order everything on the menu, what with how delicious this place smells, but then she remembers her funds. 5 bucks, if she's lucky. "Just a chocolate milk, for now. Biggest one you have, please." She somehow plays off Max's skeptical look, her eyes sweeping over Veronica's no doubt disheveled and no-food-in-36-hours appearance.

It somehow works out, and Max is wheeling away. Veronica allows herself a moment to collapse, stomach growling in pain and eyes burning with the realization she has no idea what she's going to do now. She just has this last bit of hope to hold onto, and without it, she'll be nothing but a husk.

She's not sure how long she sits there, staring at the sunrise and letting sound and AC whisk her mind away, but there's suddenly a little knock on her table. Her head snaps up, and there's Max again, setting down a giant glass of chocolate milk... alongside a loaded breakfast plate.

"It's on the house," Max rushes to explain, all fondness when Veronica scrambles to get her wallet. "Courtesy of the owner. And between you and me," she whispers with a wink, "just take the damn food, kid."

Veronica stumbles over herself for a moment, rendered near speechless, before she finally comes back. She begs Max to thank the owner profusely, before rushing to dig into the pancakes before her. She's halfway done dousing the stack in syrup by the time Max wheels away, when there's suddenly someone laughing.

"Of course," says a choked-up voice behind her. "Can't have any chickpeas starving in my booths."

Veronica nearly drops her fork. She turns so sharply she gets dizzy. Seven years can't change a person that much, surely, because though he's bigger in the torso and he has glasses on the bridge of his nose and his hair is cut so close, he still has the same softness in his voice and the same slouch in his stance and the same moles around his eyes and his smile is so bright despite the tears in his eyes, and though Veronica can barely see through tears herself, it's not like she needs them anyway to know it's-

"Steve!" she cries, scrambling out of the booth to meet her brother halfway. The relief of it all working out has the rest of her restraint collapsing, forcing harsh sobs out of her and into Steve's shoulder. The siblings hold each other in the middle of a restaurant, a voice in the background asking everyone to leave them be. Steve doesn't stop whispering, even as his chest heaves with broken gasps between tears, "You're save, Veronica, I got you, I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're safe here, it's okay, sis, it's okay..."

"That you, lil' chickpea?" whispers a different voice once they've calmed down. Veronica reluctantly pulls away and finds a man kneeling beside them, a hand on Steve's shoulder and similar tears in his eyes. His hair and tattoos remind her of the tamed wild from seven years ago, covered in black in the middle of church yet glowing brighter than the stained glass, the one that Steve looks at in past and present with a glowing love Veronica never saw between her parents.

"Yeah," she whispers, wiping her tears away before placing a hand atop her necklace. It catches Eddie and Steve's eyes and make them beam with pride and relief. "Yeah, it's... it's me...."

[lovebugism]

for fictober could I request from the 50 autumnal prompts ‘when he wears THAT flannel’ with Eddie please?

we were so robbed of Eddie all boyfriend in soft cosy clothes. R wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of him and he’d love it come autumn when it’s all he wears.

ugh imagine him in like thick baggy sweaters and when he reaches up it just exposes a bit of tummy 😍 I’m like a Victorian seeing ankles

love you xoxo

hi angel! idk how i managed to make this angsty, but alas! hope you like it :D

summary: you and eddie try to get used to life post-vecna but it's not nearly as easy as you thought it'd be (post st4, established relationship, wee bit of angst tw for mentions of death and scars, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s pretty much recovered by mid-fall.

Not totally. But mostly.

You think getting away from Hawkins helped the most — moving out of the city and settling further in the green. Even though everyone back home eventually understood that Eddie wasn’t the psycho-killing freak they made him out to be, things had changed far too much to ever go back to normal again.

Something’s break beyond repair. Something’s just can’t be fixed.

Not your Eddie, though. Eddie’s perfect. Damn near it, anyway, considering the circumstances.

He’s still got the nightmares and the phantom pains — even though he tells you he doesn’t. But he’s graduated now and helping Wayne at the car shop whenever he can. He’s taking the newfound normalcy in stride, spending early autumn with you and making you hot chocolate like nothing ever happened.

“You like marshmallows in your cocoa, right?” he calls from the kitchen, though he sounds like he’s talking mostly to himself.

You hear him, but you forget to answer. Your brain all but short circuits at how pretty he looks. 

You eye him from the couch while he bustles in the kitchen, and gutwrenching existentialism knocks the wind from your lungs like a fist to the stomach. 

You weren’t supposed to have Eddie again. You weren’t supposed to share a home like you always dreamed about, and he wasn’t supposed to make you hot cocoa or keep you warm when autumn got too bitter. 

A season or more ago, you were saying your goodbyes while he bled out in an alternate dimension. 

You haven’t yet forgotten how pale his skin had gotten or how glassy his chocolate eyes grew as the life spilled from the weeping bites on his stomach. The feeling of his blood, slimy on your hands and drenching your clothes, hasn’t yet left you. The red-hot blood in the unnatural navy blue cold still lives in your head.

But it’s only there. In your head.

And Eddie’s right in front of you — wild hair, baggy pajama pants, and all. You can smell the musk of his cologne and the floral of his shampoo. He’s real enough to touch. 

He’s real.

The realization hits you every day, all the time. It wells from your chest up into your throat and makes you feel like crying. Most people don’t get to say goodbye to their soulmate and eat Wednesday morning breakfast with them months later. 

You’ve got so much gratitude inside you, bursting like golden rays of sunshine, that you don’t know what to do with it all.

“Babe?” he calls again when you don’t answer. “Did you hear me?”

He pokes his head in the doorway, and your eyes go wide. “Huh? What?” you stammer, shaking your head to jerk yourself out of your stupor.

Eddie laughs, high and boyish. It sounds like heaven, and it pierces your heart. Six months ago, you never thought you’d hear it again. “I asked if you wanted marshmallows, weirdo.”

You nod rapidly and ramble an answer. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you.”

“O-kay,” Eddie lilts, though his voice wavers with confusion. His grin widens and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t ask why you’re acting so suddenly strange. 

You wonder if he’s used to it by now. You wonder if he knows when you go quiet that you’re remembering that a part of you nearly died.

He returns to the kitchen and reaches for the upper cupboard. A sliver of his milky white tummy peeks from beneath his flannel. You can see the bites from here. They’re scarred over now, dark red and light pink and thunder-strike purple. It almost jars you how healed they look. The wounds are still fresh and weeping whenever you close your eyes.

Eddie comes in from the living room, balancing two mugs in his hands rather carefully because he’s filled them to the brim. He’s got his usual ceramic Campbell’s Tomato Soup cup in one hand and your sleeping Snoopy in the other. The innate domesticity makes your stomach whirl.

“You okay?” the boy wonders with pinched brows when he hands you your cocoa.

You nod with glittering eyes, mustering a faint smile up at him. The mug warms your chilled, trembling hands. 

“Mm-hmm… Why?” you question, though you’re more than aware of why. 

Eddie’s got a knack for knowing how you’re feeling before you’ve even hinted at it. You think he might’ve got mind-reading powers when you were in the Upside Down.

“I don’t know. You just looked a little… far away, I guess.”

“Just missed you,” you confess with a bright, innocent gaze.

Eddie snorts as he rounds the couch to sit next to you. “While I was in the kitchen ten feet away?”

“Yeah. ’S way too far.”

“Well, remind me to carry you with me wherever I go, then.”

You know he’s joking, but you beam anyway. You don’t want to be anywhere that he isn’t. You don’t want him to go where you can’t follow. 

Eddie takes a sip and smiles at your smiling. His grin is crooked and rosy and lined with whipped cream. He leans in to kiss you with it. 

You pull back from him, just far enough to wipe the melted sugar off with the pad of your thumb. You give him a smacking peck a second later.

With a kissed grin, the boy leans back against the couch with his arm sprawled along the back of it. You curl into his side like his own personal puzzle piece, nestling your mug between your bodies with one hand and settling your free one on his stomach.

Your fingers seem to gravitate beneath his fuzzy flannel without you having to think twice about it. 

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, either. His attention is consumed by the television — a Scooby Doo re-run he’s probably seen a thousand times. His chuckle rumbles against your cheek. You laugh along with him, made content by the sound of his boyish delight.

Your fingers dance through the fuzz of his happy trail, then settle on something softer. 

The marred skin of his warm tummy feels like silk. Before you realize what you’re touching, the boy beneath you jolts.

You nearly spill your cooling cocoa when you freeze alongside him. You part from Eddie with a gaping gaze, wide eyes darting over every inch of his face. You’re frightened that you’ve hurt him, but his pink grin only widens.

“Oh, shit. Are you okay?” you blurt. “I wasn’t— I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Eddie turns to you, then. His features are blurry with sleep, and they twist with confusion at your misplaced concern. 

“No,” he answers with the shake of his head. The softened ends of his chocolate curls brush your cheek. A laugh sputters from his mouth. “It just tickled, babe. It’s fine.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It wavers on the way out, but you manage a trembling smile anyway. “Oh. Okay,” you hum, breathless. 

“Yeah. ’S okay,” Eddie murmurs softly back, wrapping his pale arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and lingers there. “I’m okay,” he whispers into your hair.

[luna0713hunter]

I just saw you opened your fall prompts and I had to request you something!! Could I request prompts 3 and 15 for Zoro? Maybe the straw hats all decide to go for a night out and dress up and the reader and Zoro have a cute moment outside? Maybe some little teasing from the other crew members? Thank you so much!

Author's note : welcome to my Autumn prompt!!! you're the first request and I'm so excited to write this!!!i hope you enjoy it!!! Kick back,and wrap a warm blanket around yourself! Get cozy ^^

"I'm cold," "come here,let me warm you up."

"making you wear their jacket when you're too stubborn to dress properly."

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : none! Super fluffy,pet names,you being stubborn and Zoro being too lovesick to get tired with your shit,cute couple (you), annoying crewmates,reader is said to wear a dress but is gender neutral otherwise

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"you're seriously going out like that?"

"yes!its not too cold and I'm not changing."

"you do realize if it gets any colder, we'll have snow."

"well I'm not cold!and i love this dress,so no changing!"

Zoro grumbles something under his breath,and you grin when he finally relents. When you skip over to where he's leaning against your doorframe and cheekily wrap your arms against his (muscular) bicep,he sighs when you flutter your eyes up at him.

"why are you being so stubborn?you know it's cold outside."

"because we never have the opportunity to dress up so nicely!!and now that the guys have decided to celebrate somewhere nice,who am i to turn such a great opportunity to dress nicely, down?"

Zoro merely mutters a 'whatever' and starts walking. Even upset with you,he reaches back and wraps his bigger hand around your smaller one,and when you finally step outside,you swallow thickly;its fucking freezing.

You unconsciously press yourself closer to Zoro's warm side;feeling his leather jacket on your bare arms. The dress you've chosen has no sleeves,and the top of your chest is particularly exposed to the cold weather. You mentally curse yourself for not listening to Zoro,but you'll be damned if you admit it to his face. So instead,you swallow down the nervousness you feel for staying in such weather for the rest of the night in that dress,and wave at your crewmates who're waiting for the two of you.

"damn y/n,you look nice." You laugh at Usopp's comment and when Nami gives you a meaningful wink and looks at Zoro's direction,you feel slightly warmer.

But not enough to stop your teeth from clattering together as you start walking with your crewmates in the freezer streets. After few minutes of walking ,however,your mind starts to wonder off to how cozy and warm everyone's clothes seem to be. You only nod and hum at your friends' questions or jokes,and try to particularly melt yourself into Zoro's side. So when that's not enough and the cold becomes too unbearable,you let out a small sneeze that has everybody falling silence and turning their attention to you.

You rub your reddened nose with your numb fingers and then let out your warm breath on them. You clench and unclench them a few times so you could return some feeling to them and look up at them sheepishly.

"you alright there,dear?"

You nod kindly at Sanji's question,and then Luffy puts a comforting hand on your bare shoulder.

"we can go back if you're too cold."

"Thanks Cap," you grin, "but i can handle it."

Just as Luffy opens his mouth to respond,a sudden warmth engulfs your form.

And your hands immediately raise up to cling to the source.

When you look down,you see a familiar jacket around shoulders. Strong hands pull the front closer to one another and gentle fingers close the zipper.

The sweet scent of your boyfriend adds up to the cozy warmth and you let out small content noise.

You turn around and smile shyly up at the swordsman, watching as he raises a brow and when he sees some color returning to your cheeks,he sighs.

"warmer?"

"very." You raise on your tiptoes and presse a gentle kiss to his slightly cold nose, "thank you,babe."

When you feel his fingers interlock with yours ,you frown slightly upon feeling his cold fingers; lending you his jacket,Zoro was particularly standing there only in a thin shirt. So you tug at his hand to get his attention and when you have it,you smile again.

"I'm still cold."

Zoro only huff and with a hand on your waist,pulls you to his chest.

"come here,let me warm you up."

You're so happy to be in his embrace and bury your face in his chest to relish his natural warmth,that you completely forget about your surroundings. And then Zoro wraps his protective arms around your waist to press his lips to yours. His lips are so warm and when they move against yours,you feel warmth spreading across your core and all over your body.

And you would've continued kissing him right there,in the middle of the street,if it wasn't for the loud wolf whistling suddenly coming from behind you.

"dude,if we're interrupting just tell us!"

"get a room you two!"

"and just as i thought the mooshead had no human emotions in him."

"I'm hungry,can you continue this in the restaurant?"

When you hear Zoro scowl above you to his crewmates,you laugh happily and squeeze his waist.

"let's go."

And as Zoro drops a loving kiss to your forehead and wraps his arm around your shoulder to lead you behind the others,you feel even warmer ; Zoro wont ever let you feel cold. Not ever again

[runninriot]

Dirty Wishes On My Mind

written for @steddiesongfics and @steddiesmuttyseptember

inspired by the song FU In My Head by Cloudy June | SSS prompt: clothes on | rated: E | wc: 4.172 | tags: sexual content, indecent behaviour in public (but they don't get caught), dirty talk, dry humping, coming in pants, confessions, realisations, Eddie has a Crush on Steve, Steve has a Revelation, friends to lovers | complete fic on ao3

    “I’m telling you, Stevie! That guy had no shame whatsoever. Didn’t even hesitate to pull blank in front of me to show off that ridiculous tattoo right above his dick. It was horrendous! I even offered to cover it up for free but he declined, said the ladies dig it.”

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. The things you have to put up with sometimes in his field of work never ceases to amaze him.

   “But hey, can’t say I didn’t like the overall view. A feast for my imagination. I’ll definitely use it the next time I’m ‘feeling lonely’.”

He uses his fingers to sign quotation marks and wiggles his eyebrows, delighted at the blush creeping up Steve’s cheeks when he realises what Eddie means by that.

Steve’s always been a little shy when it comes to talking about these things but they’ve been friends long enough for him to have gotten used to Eddie’s big, unfiltered mouth.

Eddie loves to rile him up, just a little, never so much that it makes him truly uneasy but enough to get a little kick out of it himself.

Steve’s cute when he blushes.

He’s damn fucking pretty, always, is the thing.

So what if Eddie stares a little too obvious? It’s not his fault Steve is so-

Nevermind.

He averts his gaze, takes a sip from his drink to cool off, giving Steve the chance to change the subject to something else.

  "Sometimes I fuck you in my head."

Eddie splutters his mouthful of beer half over himself, half over the table, can't believe he heard Steve right.

No. That must be a mistake because he can't possibly have said that.

Right?

   "I don't know why, it's just- sometimes when I touch myself, I think of you, you know?"

Eddie does, in fact, not know. Because what?

   "Steve, dude, look at me. Did you take something? Without me?"

He must've. There's no way he'd talk that much bullshit if he was sober. They've only been here for ten minutes, fifteen max, both still on their first beer and there is no way in hell Steve is already that drunk.

So this must be something else.

Because it is absolutely impossible that his straight best friend would ever fantasize about anything other than boobies and soft lips and long lashes and, hell, maybe even a tight juicy ass – a woman’s ass – to get him going. Steve Harrington does not think about guys when he touches himself. And most certainly not about Eddie.

He’s messing with him, that must be it. A little revenge for Eddie being insufferable.

   “Hah, yeah you got me there, Harrington. For a second, I really thought you’d lost your mind,” Eddie laughs half-heartedly in a weak attempt to cover up the slight tremble in his voice.

    For a second you got me thinking my pining ass died and went to heaven, is the thought he keeps to himself.

Another second goes by and Eddie is still waiting for Steve to laugh, to maybe swat his arm and tell him ‘Ha! Got’cha! You should see your stupid face.’ but that doesn’t happen. Instead, the air thickens and the tension between them makes Eddie nervous.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Steve opens his mouth.

But somehow, that only makes it worse.

   “Is- is that bad?”

Steve turns away, eyes now locked on his own hand where it’s wrapped tightly around his bottle. Something in his friend’s demeanour shifts; it’s like he’s slowly sinking into himself, like he’s trying to hide.

   “Stevie, hey.” Eddie brings his thumb and finger to Steve’s chin, using gentle force to make him look back up again.

He seems so small all of a sudden, sad somehow, but he huffs out an awkward laugh and rolls his eyes.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I don’t even know why I said that.”

Heat spreads in every part of Eddie’s face, up to his ears and down to his chest and his heart skips a beat because-

Steve didn’t take it back. He didn’t confirm Eddie’s assumption of it being a joke, no. He apologised because he thinks he did something wrong.

   “It’s not bad, Steve. I’m just- a little confused.”

Eddie’s hand moves on its own account, wanders higher up, fingertips lightly dancing across his jaw line and over his cheek until they reach Steve’s hair line just above his ear  where he can’t help but dive deeper into his soft strands.

He doesn’t miss the moment Steve’s eyes flutter shut for a too long second, and how his lips slightly part when he lets out a sigh.

   “Why would you think of me when you’re- I thought you’re-“

    Straight, Eddie struggles to say, fears it would come out wrong, maybe sound like an insult which it is not.

Of course, not. Everyone’s free to love and like whatever and whoever they want. It’s just- it bothers Eddie more than he likes to admit because Steve being straight means that he’ll never have a chance.

That his stupid heart will forever be suffering because his best friend will never be more than that. Not his lover, not his partner, only his friend. And that’s okay, that’s fine, perfect even. It’s more than Eddie could hope for.

But that’s exactly what makes it so hard to wrap his head around Steve’s unexpected confession. That’s why it takes Eddie’s breath away when Steve leans into his touch, pupils blown wide in the cosy light of the bar.

   “I-“ Steve stops himself, digs his teeth into his bottom lip as if to prevent any more words from slipping out.

Eddie feels like he’s in trance, doesn’t even know what he’s doing until it’s too late, until his hand has already wandered back down, thumb touching soft flesh when he pulls it free from Steve’s bite, lingering there, tracing the seam – he can’t stop, can’t not push between parted lips where Steve welcomes him with just a hint of tongue, warm and wet.

And Eddie has to swallow a startled moan.

---

continue reading here

[trexdrabbles]

I would absolutely die for a little Gambit drabble with #5 from that prompt list!

I have been absolutely dying to do one of these so thank you! (Fem reader since nothing was specified!)

NSFT under the cut!

#5 - "Let me take care of you, yeah? I'll do the work."

It had been a long day. Long day, long week, long month. Work had been getting just uncomfortably busy as of late, and you just had to keep reminding yourself that every evening spent away from home and every weekend tacked on too was only adding to your bank account and the reserve of compensatory time off you had been saving up. A few more weeks of this and you'd finally be done with the worst of it all and swore you were going to take a whole month off, and sleep straight through the first week of it. Even with the finish line in sight though, you needed a break, and badly at that.

And you weren't the only one who seemed to think so.

Remy had been a little busier on his end of things too, but not enough so as to not notice how you practically dragged yourself through the door each day, or sounded absolutely dead when you were on call with him. Today had seemed particularly rough, coming home late on a Saturday evening, short pumps in your hand that you had taken off before even driving home and had just carried up the driveway with you. But with all that misery was the littlest glimmer of hope in the fact that you had the next day off. A lovely little blip in your hellish schedule and god did you intent to make the most of it.

Cuddling with your boyfriend had definitely been prominent on your mind as a good place to start and had honestly kept you going through the final half of your work day. Opening the door to confirm that he was actually, in fact, there had been quite the blessing too. Realistically you knew he wouldn't take off without at least a text shot your way at the bare minimum, but seeing him there with your own two eyes just cemented the knowledge that you were going to finally have a damn good day off.

"Lookin' good, but ain't lookin' too hot," he commented, glancing up from whatever he had been doing on his phone, looking you over with something close to sympathy that only grew closer when you answered him with an exceptionally eloquent groan that perfectly conveyed 'I almost wish I had just been hit by a car on the way home so I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore'.

"I feel like death," you announced, dropping your poor shoes unceremoniously right beside the door and then kicking them a little further away from the entry for good measure.

"Already got dinner goin'. Be done soon."

That was enough to lift a little extra weight off of your shoulders as well and you sighed for it.

"That's why I love you," you murmured, drawing close to press a small smattering of kisses to his lips and cheek before figuring you'd go and change before sitting down to eat.

"Love me for plenty a' reasons," Remy retorted between kisses, smile permanently affixed to his lips throughout.

"Mmm, no, just that one," you teased, laughing slightly when he caught you around the waist to keep you from wandering too far off.

"Just gotta remind you a' the rest, don't I?" You knew exactly where he was going with that and admittedly it sounded pretty damn good, but you were already struggling with wanting to stay awake as it was.

You leaned in to give him one more kiss before moving to step back again. "You can remind me tomorrow."

Your efforts to go and change clothes were once again thwarted by his grip tightening a touch more and when you glanced back at him, his smile had lost its teasing edge.

"C'mon chère; let Remy take care a' you, yeah? Been runnin' yourself down, let me do the work tonight."

Fuck, if that didn't get you.

Somehow dinner was enjoyed at a relatively normal pace before he was dragging you off to your room, dishes to be ignored until tomorrow. Remy kept up with his words too, hardly letting you lift a finger as he grabbed a change of sleep clothes for you and helped you out of your work clothes. You had thought just immediately crashing with your entire body tangled around him would be a perfect end for the night, and that was entirely off from what was happening now. Though admittedly, being stretched out on your bed, thighs locked around his head and fingers curled into his hair as his tongue pressed expertly into you, lapping up everything you had to give and then some was an even better option.

[joeyalohadream]

i loveeee soft vulnerable gale and how you’ve been writing him in ur fic about his rough landing + when he’s sick in the stalag. could i request a little drabble on the heels of one of those situations where he needs bucky’s help to take a shower and it’s hard for him to accept it? i just think that’s so sweet and intimate but no worries if not!

Thanks for this prompt (soft, vulnerable Gale is my jam!)! I really enjoyed writing it! Continuation of my story, 'Another First' on AO3 (now a prequel to Part 2: their trip to London) Hope you enjoy reading it!

Also, I mentioned how I can't really write drabbles because I need more words... well...

Word Count: 2,157

Bucky dropped his bike outside the barracks door. He’d come back and secure it later after his excitement waned to a more manageable level and he’d shared the good news with Gale.

Three days in London. No missions, no responsibilities to a greater cause, no sneaking around, no sleeping sharing space with ten other men snoring away into the night. No, his only responsibility would be making sure Gale had the best time, whatever he chose for that to mean, whatever he was or wasn’t ready for. The only sound he’d fall asleep to after tonight for the next two would be Gale’s soft breaths, quiet even in slumber, sharing the same damn bed for the first time since they’d started this wonderful thing between them.

He smiled to himself as he pushed the door open slowly, trying to avoid the squeaky hinge he knew always echoed through their sleeping quarters just in case Gale had decided to take his advice and get some sleep after he’d eaten.

He huffed in fond annoyance when he fully entered the bay and saw Gale sitting up on his cot, still in the same clothes he’d had on for the mission. Blue eyes met his and he watched a small smile break out on the other man’s face when he noticed him. Bucky couldn’t help but smile back, especially when he saw his sheepskin draped over Gale’s lap like a blanket and his hands were folded under it.

They seemed to have the barracks to themselves, most of the men had been showering and getting dressed for an evening at the Officer’s Club when Bucky had left Gale with some hot food and the promise of returning with passes to their weekend getaway.

“Hey you,” Bucky greeted as took a seat on his own rack, directly across from Gale’s. Close enough that their knees touched in the space between.

“You secure us a victory Major?” Gale asked him, amusement clear in his eyes. Hope too, Bucky noticed.

“Sure did Buck!” He couldn’t contain his grin, not in the mood to tease or delay the good news. “Told you I would, didn’t I? Harding was three whiskeys deep when I caught up to him, and he accused me of riding the coattails of your aviation skills, but he agreed. You and me, three days in London. We can catch the first bus tomorrow morning at 0800!”

Gale just stares at him for a moment and Bucky watches as his words sink and a full smile, pearly white teeth on display and his favorite little dimple appearing on his cheek at the news.

“That’s great Bucky,” he tells him sincerely. “You did good.”

Bucky feels his face heat at the praise. He reaches his hand forward and covers Gale’s knee with his palm, gives it a squeeze.

“You and me Buck,” he tells him. “We’re gonna do it all right.”

Gale blushes, but the smile stays on his face, and he nods. “Sounds perfect, John.”

Bucky can’t stop smiling, anticipation a heavy feeling in his gut. He takes a moment to give Gale a once over and feels his smile slip a bit. He’s sitting rigid, holding himself still and Bucky doesn’t think he’s seen him move at all since he entered the barracks. The lines around his eyes are tense, despite his smile. When Bucky looks closer, he can see fine tremors wracking his slight frame and his smile drops completely.

“Hey now,” Bucky says. Gale’s smile has faded as well at the noticed change in Bucky’s expression. “Thought you said you’d tell me first thing if you started feeling worse Buck?”

Gale furrows his brows. He’s adorable, Bucky thinks.

“My heads fine Bucky, I promise,” Gale sounds genuine, but somethings wrong, Bucky can tell. “I ate every bite you brought me and I’m not nauseous. Ain’t dizzy either, so don’t even mention going back to that damn doctor.”

“Alright feisty,” Bucky laughs. “Cool your engines tough guy, I’m not planning on taking you anywhere except London.”

The sigh that Gale released was one of relief, but Bucky wasn’t done with him yet.

“Your head might be alright, but what about the rest of ya,” he squeezed Gale’s knee and ducked his head to catch the blue eyes. “You’re sitting real tense and I ain’t gonna lie Buck, it’s making me feel a little tense myself just lookin’ at ya.”

Gale looked back at him, an expression on his face that Bucky had seen many times before. It was a look that meant Gale was searching for something, trying to convince himself of something that he wanted to be true. Bucky hadn’t figured out all of the details of it yet, but he made sure whenever it was directed at him, he kept his expression open and let the adoration he felt for the other man shine in his eyes. It usually worked in his favor, and this was no exception.

“Feel dirty,” Gale admitted, his eyes slid away, gazing now at where Bucky’s hand was still covering his knee. “Smell like my fort.”

Bucky nodded but he knew his confusion was showing on his face.

“Okay,” he spoke softly, trying to be encouraging but missing the connection. Gale looked like he was in pain and that’s what Bucky had been trying to assess. Hygiene doesn’t seem like the most important topic when he’d just left the infirmary a couple hours ago.

Gale huffed, sounding frustrated. “I just want to go to sleep Bucky, forget about today. I’m tired John.” He tried to hunch over, but the action pulled a wince across his features and Bucky leaned forward.  

Bucky knew he was exhausted; he could see that. He was tired too; missions always drain them. But he’d seen the exhaustion in Gale’s face while he was laid up in medical and it had looked bone deep.

“Buck, help me out a little here,” Bucky pleaded. “What do you need?”

If he was exhausted, why wasn’t he taking a nap like Bucky had suggested early? He wanted to ask but he didn’t want it to come out patronizing and sometimes talking with Buck when he was like this was like walking a tight rope. One way and he’d open up, like he had earlier in the day, but another and he’d close in on himself.

Some days he reminded Bucky of an old dog that would curl up and hide under the porch when he felt sick. Waiting for it to be over rather than asking for help to get better.

“My back,” Gale breathed out, “and my shoulders. It all tightened up. Can’t even get my damn shirt off.”

“I can help with that Buck,” Bucky assured him, not seeing the problem. Gale had helped Bucky with his clothes, his boots, all of it on numerous occasions. Sometime because of the whiskey, but a few times because of exhaustion and illness. “You don’t even gotta ask.”

Gale looked up at him and Bucky wanted to reach out and shake him for a moment because he looked ashamed. Bucky knows he’s going to have to confess to Gale that he’s head-over-heels in love with him sooner rather than later, to hell with waiting for the perfect moment. It’s time for Gale to know, without a doubt that he’s loved and there’s no condition to it, nothing Bucky wouldn’t do for him.

“Bucky,” Gale’s voice was soft, laced with pain and discomfort and Bucky just wanted to hold him. “It hurts to move too much right now.”

Bucky’s heart squeezed but he kept his gaze on Gale’s face and Gale kept looking back, searching for something again.

“Can you help me clean up?” He practically whispered. “Can’t wash my hair like this and you know how much…” He trailed off, looking thoroughly embarrassed and Bucky couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips.

“How much you love your luscious locks?” Bucky teased but gentled his tone immediately. “Don’t worry, I love em too.” He added with a smile that made Gale duck his face.

Bucky reached over and tapped his chin, forcing his eyes back up and waited till he had his full attention.

“Of course I’ll help you Buck,” he told the younger man, smiling but serious. “I’d do anything for ya.” He tried not to be offended by the surprise that flashed through those blue eyes for a moment before he smiled at Bucky and nodded.

“Thanks Bucky.”

“Come on, let’s do this,” Bucky stood and reached down to help Gale stand, steadying him when he tensed all over at the motion. “I’ll grab your stuff, you just stand there real still and look pretty.” He winked at him and moved to gather his towel and his toiletries, ignoring the quietly huffed, “shut up Bucky,” from behind him.

----

In the stall that was furthest from the door in the large washroom, Bucky gripped the back of the metal chair Gale was seated in and pulled it back so that the spray was hitting the youngers man chest now that his hair was thoroughly soaked.

It had been a hard battle to fight, to convince the injured man to use a chair at all, but with some gentle coaxing and a soft yet exasperated, “You’re kind of shit at taking care of yourself so just let me do it for a while,” Bucky had won.

Bucky squeezed a generous amount of Gale’s rather expensive shampoo into his hands and made a lather before placing his hands in the soft blonde hair and starting to scrub. He kept his motion gentle, tried his best to swipe his hand in the direction that kept the suds from getting into the cuts that littered that beautiful face. As he scratched his finger into Gale’s scalp, he heard a low moan escape and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

He absolutely hated that Gale was hurting, hated that he was in enough pain he couldn’t complete such a simple task on his own, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. Taking care of Gale was one his favorite things to do and being able to do it in such a physical, tangible way that clearly made Gale feel good, made his heart swell.

I wish I could wash his hair every day, the ridiculous thought came to his mind.

Gale groaned again as Bucky scratched his fingers through the shorter hair at the back of his neck. Bucky was sure that if the heat from the water hadn’t already turned Gale red, he’d see a blush painting his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Gale mumbled. “Feels good.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky scolded gently. “Feels good for me too.”

Gale scoffed, voice low, “Washing my hair makes you feel good?”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good, ya doofus.” Bucky chuckled softly. Gale seemed to melt under his hands and Bucky tried his best to keep his eyes on the top of Gale’s head but he was only human, so he let himself watch as Gale began to drag the bar of soap he’d been holding over his chest and stomach.

Gale moved the soap lower, and Bucky refocused his gaze on his favorite head of hair and thought, London, London, London.

Gale seemed to have finished because he let the soap fall from his grasp and he let his hands rest on the tops of his thighs, water running down his body rinsing away the suds, leaving clean, pink skin. Bucky took a deep breath and tried not to be jealous of the water.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Gale’s quiet voice broke the silence. “But I’m so damn glad you’re mine Bucky.”

Bucky’s breath hitched and he felt his eyes sting. He let his hands slide down to Gale’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze, already adding a massage to the list of things that were happening in London as he felt how stiff the muscles under his hands were.

“You deserve the whole damn world Buck,” he explained, keeping his voice low, enjoying the peace from the water and the steam. “And you just watch, I’m going to find a way to give it to you some day.”

A wet hand reached up and grabbed his own where it still lay on Gale’s shoulder.

“You already did give it to me,” Gale squeezed his fingers. “You are my whole world, John.”

“Damn you Gale,” Bucky laughed, but it came out closer to a sob. He couldn’t help himself, so he bent over, angled his head and placed a sloppy kiss to Gale’s wet cheek. “You’re gonna make a grown man blush, sweet talkin’ him like that.”

Gale laughed, “You’re one to talk. You make me blush fifty times a day.”

“My goal’s a hundred,” Bucky teased. “Now cover your eyes, I’m pushing you back under the spray.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 11 -  Animated Holiday Movies & Pop/Alt Christmas Songs

y'all mind if i use all the movies and one of the songs from today's prompt? no? okay cool

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,612 | rated: G

“Alright Munson, it’s time to get you in the holiday spirit.” Steve says, pushing him down onto his own couch one Sunday in mid December. “I managed to grab Charlie Brown from work, and Rudolph, The Grinch, and Frosty will be on CBS tonight.”

“Damn alright, no need to get pushy.” Eddie grumbles, crossing his arms in front of him. He’s not looking forward to this, alright? He’s definitely going to get a stomachache.

“Pizza will be here in just a few minutes, Rudolph starts in 30, then The Grinch and Frosty are right after the other,” he’s pacing now, “I’ve got pop and beer, and chips, and leftover cookies—I’ve got to make more soon don’t I—”

“Steve, Stevie!” Eddie grabs his wrist as he passes in another line of worried pacing in front of the couch. “You gotta calm down sweetheart, why are you makin’ such a fuss?” Maybe if he ignores it, Steve won’t notice the pet name that slipped out from between his lips.

Steve heaves a sigh, “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” he drops down beside him, the couch protesting with a creak, “I just want you to have fun, I suppose.”

Eddie pats Steve’s shoulder comfortingly, “How’d you get all this set up anyway, where’s Wayne?”

Eddie had woken up in the late evening when he heard a crash from the kitchen followed by low swearing. Coming out in his ratty sweatpants and no shirt to Steve sweeping up a bowlful of pretzels back into a large mixing bowl in the middle of his kitchen was quite a sight, but before he could fully process, a green Hawkins Swim Team hoodie was shoved over his head, a hairtie pressed into his palm, and the rest of him being 'shoo'-ed into the living room and onto the couch.

His Uncle’s foldaway bed and his Uncle were missing from where they should be in the small family room, Wayne normally didn’t wake up until about now to get ready to head into work.

Steve shrugs, getting back up off the couch to go back into the kitchen, “When I asked him if I could borrow you for a movie marathon, he insisted I have it here. He’ll be back soon,”

“‘Back soon’? Shouldn’t he be sleeping right now?”

Eddie watches as Steve fiddles around in the kitchen for a few moments, picking up the previously be-floored bowl of pretzels and dumping it into the trash can, when the front door opens and Wayne enters with two pizza boxes balanced on one hand.

“Wayne?”

“Come grab these, will ‘ya Ed?”

Eddie shoots up at once, hopping over the low coffee table to grab the boxes while Wayne takes off his boots and Steve shuffles around them to pay the delivery boy standing on their porch.

The boxes are taken from him only a couple moments later, with Steve bringing them back into the kitchen.

Wayne snaps him back to himself with a hand on his shoulder. “Y’alrigh’ Ed?”

“Wayne. I can’t watch Christmas movies with him.” he says lowly, only to his Uncle. It’s one thing to make cookie cutters with him, but watching some of Maggie Munson’s favorite holiday movies is a whole ‘nother one thing altogether.

Wayne’s crinkled face smoothes out minutely. “Yes y’can, son. I’ll b’here too.”

“Don’t you have work tonight?”

“I swapped shifts with Roger so I could hang out with you boys.” Wayne says at a normal volume, fixing Eddie with a look.

Eddie’s eyes prick with the threat of tears.

That look says “I swapped so I could be here for you.”

“Wayne said he loves Christmas movies!” Steve grins, carrying back two plates with three slices each.

“Didn’ realize they were showin’ all these good’uns tonight!” Wayne says, stepping past them toward the hall, “‘Scuse me boys,”

While his uncle changes out of his coveralls and into his own comfy clothes (which will likely be a flannel and worn Levis), Steve shoves one of the plates of pizza into Eddie’s hands and leads him back to the couch.

He sets the other plate on the side table next to Wayne’s chair, and goes back to the kitchen for a third plate and three beers, all three gripped around their necks in one hand.

“You’re gonna love these, Eds.” Steve plops down beside him, “Charlie Brown is my favorite, but they’re all classics at this point right? That’s why they show them every year.”

Eddie gulps and puts down his plate of pizza on the coffee table. Putting on a brave face, he pulls his hair up into a bun at the back of his head.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical, Stevie, but let’s get on with it, huh?”

Eddie has fun in the end, that pioneer man with the pickaxe in Rudolph reminds him of Wayne, so it doesn’t surprise him that he’s Wayne’s favorite.

A lot of the tunes and storylines are familiar, of course, it wasn’t like he can wipe the same movies from his mind just because mom is gone, but it was nice to see them again with Wayne and Steve by his side (though Wayne’s been sawing logs from the armchair since even before Rudolph was over).

By time A Charlie Brown Christmas is re-wound and put back in its case, Eddie is bushed. It’s only been a couple hours total that they’ve spent watching, these movies are shorter than he thought, but he’s stuffed full of pizza, beer, and nearly the whole (new) bowl of pretzels he inhaled during their little marathon.

He stretches out on the couch when Steve gets up to clear their plates away and swears he only closes his eyes for a second…only to wake up to the early morning light streaming in through the window behind the TV.

There’s a blanket tucked around him, another is thrown over Wayne (still keeping up with his very astute impression of a chainsaw), and Steve’s Nike’s are missing from the pile next to the door.

He snuggles back down into the cushions and promises to thank Steve later today.

Later today comes after their Hellfire meeting; the party stomps up Mike Wheeler’s stairs from the basement and trickle out the door at 8 o’clock sharp to their respective rides (a stipulation of the Wheelers and the Sinclairs if their boys would still be allowed to be in Hellfire after what happened in March).

Punctual as ever, Steve is already sitting in the Wheeler’s driveway waiting for Dustin and Will. Eddie immediately starts towards the maroon beemer but his steps falter when he hears the music that’s absolutely blasting inside the idling car.

“This yeaarr, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special..” Eddie hears Steve singing along to that accursed new Wham! track, and not just singing along to the lyrics, but vocalizing the instrumentals too.

He manages to get to the driver side window without Steve noticing him, his attention on a book of Sudoku puzzles of all things.

“Knock knock! Earth to Stevie!” Eddie calls, rapping his knuckles on the pane of Steve’s window.

Steve, of course, jumps at the sudden noise, and cranks down the sound along with his window. Well, lowers his window. Stupid BMW with its stupid power windows..

“Jesus Christ, Eddie, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Not my fault you’re not aware of your surroundings, Stevie darling.”

Steve grins up at him, “How was the game?”

“The session was good, I was thiiiis close to killing off Dusty,” Eddie says, holding up his pointer and thumb, nearly pressed together to accentuate his point, “But Will the Wise here saved his ass at the last second.”

“And Dorngar the Monk will be forever grateful.” Speak of the Devil.

“Dorngar the Monk better watch himself next time.” Will says, shaking his head.

Will climbs into the backseat and scoots to the middle of the bench to start going through a play-by-play of the session with Dustin, who gets in the passenger side and kneels backward on the leather seat immediately.

Steve only rolls his eyes at the two of them, his lips curved into a fond smile still turned towards Eddie.

“Hey, I wanted to say thanks, by the way.” Eddie says, leaning his weight onto the roof of the car with his forearm.

Steve’s brows furrow immediately. “For what?” “For last night? I had fun. Surprisingly.”

“You’re welcome, Eds.” Ah good, the smile is back. “Did you sleep good on the couch? I was going to take you into your room before I left, but you looked comfy enough.”

“Oh yeah, I slept like a baby.”

Steve chuckles, “I don’t think a baby could sleep through your uncle’s snores.”

“I did! My mom used to take me over to Wayne’s whenever I’d get too fussy to sleep normally.”

“That’s hilarious!” Steve guffaws, “I can definitely picture it: your uncle asleep in that same chair? Little baby Eddie laid out sound asleep in his lap? Ha!” 

“That’s about how it was,” Eddie grins, thinking of that exact picture his mom had taken during one such visit, the one in the fading photo album tucked away in his closet.

“Dudes, stop fucking around, we gotta get home!” Dustin gripes.

Eddie steps back from the window, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m leavin’ too, be careful getting these assholes home, Stevie.”

“You too, Eds, watch out for deer.”

Eddie’s heart stutters at the simple phase, the same one he’d asked Wayne why he would always say that every time he and mom left his place.

Wayne had just smirked, “Don’tcha know Ed? That’s midwestern for ‘I love you.’.”

to anyone outside the midwest: yes, that's a real thing and also watch out for deer on your way home <3

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[dearhargrove]

Could I request 10 & 11 from the "Small things that matter in romance" prompt list with Billy please ? Thank you so much 🤍🤍🤍 Take your time.

a/n yes!! Thank you for requesting 🩷

Lazy day

Billy Hargrove x f!reader

summary just some sweet, soft moments with Billy!

word count 1175

warnings none

prompts (from @urfriendlywriter) used 10. slow kisses, dreamy, lazy, lips gently touching the teasing the other's, eyes fluttering closed, feeling all shy

11. undressing infront of each other !! with no crazy 18+, just wholesome kisses here and there and then going to bed

masterlist

navigation

You couldn't be more glad when you heard Billy's car parking in the driveway, the car door shutting a moment later. Your day was long and had tired you out entirely. Which made you all the more excited for your boyfriend finally coming over after his shift at the pool.

You were still in your clothes from school. Between coming home, doing homework, making yourself a quick meal and now hadn't been enough time to change. However, you knew Billy was the last person to mind your appearance, so with a smile you open the door to your bedroom and walk to the front door, on time with his knocking.

He stands on the doorstep with a lazy smirk, eyeing you up and down with an appreciative hum. "Hey, gorgeous," he greets huskily.

You just smile wider and grab his hand to pull him inside, closing the door behind him.

Your parents weren't home yet so you weren't worried about them seeing him (not that it mattered; they knew and accepted him, but still). "Hi there," you mumble back and sling your arms around his neck, fingers going to the hair curling at his nape.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to his body, simply holding you close for a moment before surprising you as he lifts you up, your legs resting around his waist now. You chuckle and stare down at him, utterly in love as he carries you up the stairs and to your room.

After closing your room door he lets you fall on your bed, kicking off his shoes and proceeding to crawl over you, arms on each side of your head. "You look good," he mumbles, holding the intense eye contact until you break it, looking bashedly to the side.

"I do?" You ask and bite your lip to hide the smile he was usually the cause of. "Mhm," he hums before relaxing his arms and falling to lay next to you, groaning slightly as he tries to get comfortable. You turn on your side, noting his stiffness as he moves and slowly running a hand up his chest, to his neck.

"Everything okay? Back pain again?" You ask in a quiet tone, already expecting the gruff nod. "Yeah. And your mattress is too damn soft. Fucking sinking into this," he complains.

You laugh a bit at his comment and stroke your thumb along his jaw, noting the goosebumps rising on his skin at your touch. "Want me to give you a massage?" You suggest, eyes focused on his own.

He is quiet for a moment before letting one of his hands rest on your arm, head turned to look at you. "Sure you want to, love?" He asks, still unused to someone willingly doing nice things, like a simple massage, for him.

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to," you assure and sit up, legs crossed. He scoots up until he's leaning against the headboard of your bed, eyes half lidded and roaming your body. "Other time. C'mere," he motions to his thighs. You settle into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs and palms on his chest.

"Like this?" You lilt, looking up into his eyes through your own lashes. He huffs a chuckle at that and hums, "yeah, just like that, princess."

Instead of him getting flustered at your actions it's you; with a shy grin you look down at your hands instead, avoiding his piercing eyes.

"Haven't seen you all day and you won't even look at me?" He teases, hand grasping your chin and tilting your head up gently. As soon as your eyes meet his again he bites his lip and moves his hand so it's resting on your cheek. "There's my pretty girl."

That makes you even more embarrassed and shy and you whine, weakly slapping his shoulder, "Stop!" He chuckles and shakes his head, "Nah. I'm enjoying this too much to stop."

With a slight pout you look up again, leaning your head into his warm but calloused palm. You keep the eye contact and place a loving kiss on the inside of his wrist, before a yawn interrupts you. He smiles and moves you around until you're both almost laying down.

He pulls you in, lazily kissing along your cheek until he reaches your lips. He playfully bites into your lower lip and then kisses you fully. You melt into his touch and kisses, moving your hands to each side of his neck.

You break the kiss after a few seconds, your jeans getting more uncomfortable by the second, the tight denim not made for chilling in bed. He lightly furrows his eyebrows in confusion, trying to kiss you again.

With an amused huff you peck the corner of his mouth and move off his lap. He grumbles unhappily and grasps your hips, keeping you on his lap.

"Where d'you think you're going?" His voice is as deep and raspy as ever, and you almost relent. However, the tight jeans are keeping you from being fully comfortable - you really had no clue how Billy seemed to live in his tight jeans without ever feeling uncomfortable.

"Lemme go change and we can continue?" You explain, taking his hands off your hips which he lets you do begrudgingly.

He moves to pull a cigarette from his pocket and almost has his lighter in hand when you pluck the Marlboro from his lips and flick it straight into the trash. "Those are fucking nasty, Billy. Not in my room." He groans and rolls his eyes, sassy as ever.

You don't mind him as you pull your shirt and bra off, your other clothes after. He'd seen you bare enough times that you couldn't care less, fully comfortable with him.

You turn to your closet, searching for some shorts and a shirt when he mumbles something, making you look up at him.

"You say something?" He smiles a little and shakes his head, "Just admiring the most beautiful girl in the world, hm." You throw a random pen at him at that cheesy comment and he effortlessly catches it and puts it on your nightstand.

He gets off the bed and moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist with his palms resting on your abdomen. There was nothing sexual about this, he was simply admiring the way you felt under his touch.

You lean into him for a second before finally finding some comfortable sleep clothes and putting everything on. "Lemme get something, too," he says and reaches past you and rummages through your dresser.

It's not long before he finds some clothes he left at yours sometime and changes into them. He ditches a shirt, opting for some sweats as he settles back in your bed. You lay down next to him as before, your fingers ghosting over some scars scattered along his torso.

He leans into your pillows, eyes closed and savoring your touch.

That's how the rest of the evening passes and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[xmycxx]

Abby with a masc!reader

A/N: Whiel i love the trope of masc!abby x fem!reader, gotta say I'm more towards the masc side so I had to write this

sharing! CLOTHES

im sorry but can you imagine!! like you can borrow her clothes and shirts and she can borrow yours

personally i have a jacket that looks realy similar to her WLF one so most people can't tell who's clothes you're wearing at any time

depending on your style, you def end up slightly improving hers

she gives vibes that she wouldn't really care how she dressed as long as it was suitable and appropriate

if you dressed to the dark academia, prep for her stealing your sweaters, if you dress punk, yea you're never seeing that jacket again

i feel like she would be the type to go for femmes (or men if she wasn't gay yet) then you fucking showed up at this party, dressed to the nines in a black button up and trousers with chains and rings, charming as hell

and then you startt alking to her with that sweet smile, innocently putting your hand on her arm

she realized then and there that you are more charming and sweet than any man she could ever date

"Nice to meet you..." You trailed off, putting your hand forward for a handshake, lopsided smirk on your face as you waited for her to finish your sentence with her name.

"ABBY!"

"abby, my name is abby." She said in a lower tone of voice, clearing her throat. She winced immediately when she grabbed your hand with more strength than she thought, seeing your face change.

"Pleasure." You said, trying not to grin at the obvious effect you were having on her, the pain in your hand becoming dull as you watched her fumble.

HAIR

omfg

you cannot tell me a masc doesn't care about their hair

if you had shorter hair, she woudl fuckin adore running her hands through it and seeing how short it was

if you ahd longer hair, she'd teach you how to braid it like hers

peak switch energy

ik most people say she's a top but have you seen this girl

a service top if i ever saw one

the rare time she bottoms is an absolute treat for you

i think she would secretely love the idea of being your housewife

like, imagine you came home from work to see her making dinner adn you make an innocent joke

"Damn," You said, grinning, dropping your bag to the ground before coming up behind her. "If i knew my housewife was waiting for me, would've come home sooner." It was meant to be a joke. You hid your smile by hiding your face in her back, not coming upto her full height. She took it more seriously, face breaking out into a blush as she ducked out of your eyesight. The nervous hitch in her breath was something she couldn't hide from you.

"Aww did that get you all flus-" "Shut up."

BEANIES

ik it's a drastic change but like dude, im a beanie girl and she would love the idea of using your beanies because she can still smell your shampoo on them

dates would be so funny bc she would wanna pay because she knows how to treat a girl

there are full blown arguments where the waiter is concerned y'all are gonna break up before even paying

eventually you settle that you'll just alternate it

I might write more for this if there are any prompts

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#359

“What the fuck are you doing?  You know our arrangement.  You agreed to it.  I told you last time I wanted you here waiting for me naked.  If you don’t want to live up to your end of the bargain, fine I’ll fire your brother tomorrow.  If you don’t want your brother’s parole officer to know he’s unemployed and the reason why, then strip out of those fucking clothes….

“Get over here and give me a kiss….  I know you don’t like to kiss, but I do.  Right here on my lips….  You can do better than that.  I don’t want a peck, give me some tongue.

“You look disgusted.  Too bad.  Let me do this right….  Oh yeah.  Going forward, I expect this kind of kiss from you.  Damn, boy, you feel good in my arms.  There’s something about a man holding his naked boy that gets my juices flowing.

“Go ahead and reach down; feel how hard I am getting.  That’s all you baby.  Why don’t you unzip me and take it out while we kiss some more.  Oh yeah….

“That feels so good.  You are doing much better than what you did on Day 1; you’re accepting your role here.  You know my cock needs your submission.  You are accepting giving a blowjob as part of how you serve me.  I’m beginning to think that you are enjoying taking my dick down your throat.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you have swallowed my load without my prompting.

“Here pull in.  Lean against me.  Keep stroking me; you almost have me rock hard.  Your back is so smooth.  My rough hands like how silky it feels.  Oh my, your ass is… wow…  Now, my fingers are going into your crack.  Relax. 

“I told you that things are changing with today’s meeting.  The first is that I will be fucking you.  My finger likes feeling every fold of your pussy hole….  No, no, no.  Don’t pull away.  This pussy is mine.  Have you ever had a man fuck you before?...  Has anyone ever fingered you?...  So I will pop your cherry?  Hell yeah.

“I said, ‘Don’t pull away.’  I will be fucking you.  Your pussy is mine.  I own it.  It’s mine to do with what I want to do. 

“But you know… after I fuck you, you can say no to me fucking you again, and all this comes to an end.  I can go to your brother’s parole officer and show him the videos of him dealing.  He would be thrown back in prison so fast.  Then you will be on your own.  I know you are going off to college in the fall.  You’ll have to pay for that, and a place to live.  Working here on site cleaning up after the men doesn’t pay much.  You and your brother would be screwed.

“Here’s what I’m going to do.  I’m going to leave your brother alone.  No one needs to see those videos.  I will even recommend him for a different job.  One that pays him just under double what he is making now.  The guys love him.  Most don’t care that he went to jail for drug dealing years ago.  They would all be shocked to know about those videos though.

“All you have to do is to give me your pussy from this point on.  No resisting like you did when I had you first suck my dick.  I expect you to struggle to take my thickness, every virgin I have fucked does.  Those are your choices. 

“Lucky for you, I brought some lube.  Don’t move and keep stroking me.  Like that.  You got me pre-cumming.  Some fag boys that’s all they get from me when I fuck them.  You are going to need a lot more.

“This is going to feel a little wet….  Oh yeah.  Your pussy is soaking this up.  My finger almost slipped in; can’t have that happen.  My cock needs to be first in there. 

“Lie on the ground right there, face down and spread eagle.  Until I tell you to move, you keep your arms and legs in that position.  That’s to prevent you from standing back up. 

“Bitch, I’m about to claim this pussy.  Scream if you want to.  You and I both know everyone is gone.  No one will hear you.

“Feel my cockhead at your pussy lips?  Here it comes….  Quit squirming and relax.  Yeah you have a fully clothed six foot two, two hundred sixty pound, forty seven year old man lying on scrawny, naked, five seven, hundred fifty pound, eighteen year old pussy boy.  I know it’s difficult to breathe.  But there’s no way for you to pull off my cock.  This is going to happen.  Your pussy belongs to my dick.  I can feel its hunger.  Goddamned, it feels good.

“You ready to be cunted?  You ready to become my bitch cunt?  Because this pussy is going to be changing.  It’s going to be a cunt in a few moments.  That means it’s going to be my possession.  If you want to walk away and send your brother back to jail, now is the time to tell me….

“Ok, I own this cunt.  This is a hole that was made to be fucked.  By me.  And only me.  No one will be using this cunt unless I say so, and I won’t be saying so.  You are giving up all women and men.  It will only be my dick in here or down your throat.  You hear me cunt?  Who’s in charge?

“You’re damned right I am.  I will be putting one of those cock cages on you so that even you won’t have access to your pecker.  And if I ever catch you with another man,… or a woman, your brother will be back in jail so fast, and I throw you naked in the middle of a biker bar with the words ‘Rape Me’ on your forehead and across your back and walk away.

“I will be taking over your schooling.  I will decide what classes you will take.  Your life belongs to me.  My place is only minutes away from your college; you will move in to the one-bedroom suite attached to my garage.  Other than school, you will be naked there at all times, ready to take my cock when it demands it.

“You ready for your life to change, fag?  Answer me!...  Damned right.  Keep calling me Daddy. 

“I need to see your fucking cunt face.  Flip over on your back; Daddy needs to cunt you right.  I’m going to give you one hell of a gape when my cock is done with you. 

“This is a much better position.  Keep your legs up in the air and spread.  Damn, my cock just slid right back in, as if the cunt was made for taking it.  You can now look into my eyes.  You can watch me as I nut in you.

“I am so horned up.  I am ready to bust my first nut in my new cunt.  The best part of this position is that I can… smack you across the face.  Hell yeah I will be doing that going forward.  Gone are the caresses and the tender play.  That’s for pussies.  And you are a cunt.  A cunt gets smacked around.  Like this.  No reason other than you are a cunt.

“Oh fuck.  Oh fuck?  You ready for my first load in your cunt?  Because it’s going to flood your guts.  Here it fucking cums. 

“Ahhh.  Ahhhhhhh.  Ahhhhhhhhh.  Fuck yeah.  I can do this all day, and I will.  But we need to get to my place, your new home.

“Fuck faggot.  Giving your brother a raise and a promotion is well worth having access to this cunt of yours.  Let’s get going.  No you are remaining naked. 

“But first, clean off my cock.  Cunt, you have no say.  Besides you are always to leap to my dick to clean it off after it was inside of you.  If you think that’s nasty, wait until I get you under my rimseat for hours at end.”

[halfmoth-halfman]

we're meant for the flies

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: zombies, death, blood, medical inaccuracies, guns, knives, animal death mention, gore, suicide technically, cannibalism (zombie) Prompt: Zombie!AU & "I always knew this day would come." Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: we're starting off @glitterypirateduck's GazFest 2023 strong with a lovely little Zombie!AU and some not-so-lovely angst 💜

There were mutterings about a new strain of flu from your fellow nurses when you’d finished your shift early Saturday morning. You thought nothing of it, pushing it to the back of your mind and forbidding it from distracting you from who was waiting for you at home. 

It was such a rare and precious thing when Kyle got to spend more than a week at home, and you had planned to take full advantage of every second with him. 

You’d gotten to the house just after the sun had risen, practically launching yourself into the waiting arms of your fiancé the second he stepped out the front door. He wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you as close as he could physically get you. 

You remember the gentle warmth of the morning sun shining down on your back. His familiar scent of tuberose and vanilla filling your nose, making you feel more at home than you’ve felt in months. The sharp, amused wolf whistle from Mrs. Graham, your elderly neighbor who spent all her time split between being too invested in your relationship and letting her grouchy cat run amuck in your garden. 

You didn’t believe in perfection, but that Saturday was damn near close. 

By Monday, it was all gone. 

Fire and decay consumed the world, the apocalypse carried across the earth on the backs of the dead. Life as you had known it was gone, crumbled to dust under the weight of the confusion and chaos. 

Five years later, you still aren’t used to the stench of decomposing flesh and rot that forever lingers in the air. It sticks to your clothes, your car, your skin, never coming off no matter how many times you wipe yourself down. 

Kyle, your saving grace, helps keep you focused. You’d gotten a few self-defense lessons from him before the world had ended, but now he has you up early every morning to train. He’s done most of the heavy lifting, if you’re honest. More often you feel more hindrance than help to him, the elite military training giving him far more of an advantage in this new world, but he never once complains. 

He does his best to comfort you, to teach you, to protect you. 

You do what you can, of course. Your medical knowledge is invaluable now, and Kyle makes sure to remind you of that as often as he can. It’s part of why he’s so adamant about keeping you safe, aside from the obvious.  

“Can’t let my favorite doctor go hungry,” he laughs when he forces you to take his rations, trying to joke away your concern. “What kind of husband would that make me?”

You see the exhaustion in his eyes, and it kills you to watch him always put himself last. It borders on suffocating sometimes, his concern for you. There are times when you want to scream at him to let you help him, let you offer more than just your presence and ever-changing inventory list. He’s taught you how to use a knife and a gun and your fists; you can protect yourself if you need to, but he refuses. He keeps you safe and tucked away whenever he has to run for supplies, and clings whenever he returns. 

You know why he does it, why he holds you so close at night as you fall asleep to the screeching and wailing of the distant undead. 

(You’d only met his team a few times in the past, but you knew how much they meant to him. You remember his determination to find them again when the world went to shit, leading you through neighborhoods and towns to get to their supposed meet-up spot.

You remember the exact moment when, after three months of walking and fighting, you’d finally made it to that dusty, boarded-up pub on the outskirts of the city.

His team was there, in all of their undead glory. Skin peeling and blistered, wailing around the black blood pouring from their mouths as they dragged their decaying fingers down the boards on the windows. 

Kyle was quick to get you out of there, finding an empty store for the two of you to hole up in for the night. 

The moment it was safe, he crumbled. You held him through the night, letting him silently sob into your shoulder. All you could offer was quiet comforts and a promise that you would never leave him.)

So, you let him hover, let him worry as you swallow down your complaints, and follow his plan to keep the two of you moving. It works for the most part, keeping both of you alive for longer than those you encounter on the road. You pass by the bodies, half-eaten and rotted, thanking whatever higher power may be watching for your continued luck. 

Luck can’t continue forever, though, and so it is that five years, six months, and twenty-eight days later, you find yourself in an abandoned flat trying to staunch the bleeding from Kyle’s side. It’s difficult to see, the only light available to you the pale moonlight shining through the hole in the roof and the flickering of your dying flashlight, but you refuse to let that stop you.

You clean his wound, wipe the darkening blood away with quick and delicate hands, purposely ignoring the rasping of his breath and the teeth-shaped holes. He grips onto your arm, squeezing with all of his hindered strength when you try to disinfect it. 

Kyle calls your name, his voice so weak it brings instant tears to your eyes. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t look at him. You know what you’ll see if you do. 

You need to pretend, need to keep yourself in this illusion or you’ll lose your mind. 

Maybe if you could do stitches, he can hold on until you find someone–

Kyle calls your name again, a weak hand landing atop yours. He laces your fingers together, the sharp cold of his a stark contrast to the blood-slick warmth of your own. You glance up at him, and the bubble bursts.

Even in the silvery moonlight, you can see the dark veins growing across his face. Cheeks already starting to sink, those beautiful brown eyes already fading to a milky beige. He coughs once, watery and rough, and you can see the blood sinking into the lines between his teeth. 

Still, he smiles. 

“I always…knew this day would come,” he wheezes, trying to laugh.

You don’t care about hiding, don’t care about making noise. You curl forward, cradling his face in your hands as you sob. 

“So glad…got more time…with you.”

You press your forehead to his, and he moves his other hand to rest against your cheek. It takes a painful effort, his limbs already beginning to stiffen. 

“Always…love you.”

“I love you too,” you cry, never taking your eyes off of his. He tilts his head up, and you meet him for a kiss without hesitation.

You don’t pull away until his eyes fall closed and his arm goes slack, his hand sliding from your cheek to land on the warped wood floor with a hard thud.

You only have a few minutes before he turns. You know what you should do, what he’s made you promise to do should this ever happen. 

You grab your gun from your bag, aiming at him–at the love of your life–with shaking hands, and you know you can’t do it.

Instead, you scream.

A mournful wail that rattles your chest, echoing across the empty room. You shriek and cry and beg for mercy from a God you know won’t answer. 

When his eyes open again, you squeeze yours shut. You hear the telltale groan, the shuffling as his body sits up. 

A brief second, a silent moment, before he screeches and launches himself at you.

You raise the gun. 

-

The drive back to your home is long and tedious. 

You don’t waste your ammo, taking back roads and side streets to avoid as many of the shambling undead as possible. Any that cross your path, you mow down with your SUV and no remorse. 

Your street is worse than you left it, abandoned cars scattered across the road, flora overtaking the fences and walls, and gardens worn down after years of being trampled over and unwatered.

Mrs. Graham’s corpse lies on the broken rocking chair on her porch, the skeleton of her cat still curled up in her lap.

You stop in front of your old house, staring up at the broken windows, peeling paint, and overgrown ivy crawling up the side paneling. Something stirs in you, pained and nostalgic. 

A groan from your backseat brings you back to reality, and you sigh. 

You step out of the car, taking a moment to clear the porch steps of as much dirt and dust as you can. 

Something screeches further down the road, a small chorus responding to it from one of the other houses. 

You open the back passenger door of the SUV, stepping back as Kyle shambles out, nearly falling onto the driveway. Your shot to his leg left him unable to run like the others and gave you just enough leverage to get his hands tied together. After that, it was easy to tie a scrap of cloth over his mouth and keep him from biting you. 

He tried a few times on the road, but all it amounted to was his mouthing at your shoulder through the cloth while you drove. 

You walk to the steps, and he limps after you. He doesn’t stop when you take a seat, falling on top of you. You move him to the side with a huff, pulling your knife from its holster as he sits up. His opaque eyes follow you as you lean over and begin slicing through the rope around his wrist. 

The screeching down the street is closer now, a flurry of footsteps before something crashes into one of the abandoned cars. 

The moment his hands are free, Kyle grabs at you. His nails are too blunt to scratch now, paper-thin skin ripping when he moves too fast. You lean back against the wooden railing, as he lunges for your neck, trying to sink his teeth into your pulse. 

You bring a hand up, settling it on his cold, clammy cheek. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” 

Your fingers curl into the cloth around his mouth, pulling it down as you crane your head and expose your neck. 

The pain is unbearable, like fire burning through your veins. It only takes seconds for your hands to go numb and your vision to blur. Kyle doesn’t stop, not even as blood spews from your neck. Not even as he reaches bone. 

It couldn’t have ended any other way. 

You never could’ve killed him. 

There was no conceivable world where you’d want to continue without him. 

Your body soaks in the pain, letting it morph into an aching throb as your lungs begin to constrict. 

You think back to the day he proposed, after the celebrations, when you both sat on these very steps watching the sun sink behind the horizon. 

You hadn’t stopped smiling, positively beaming as you admired your ring and the way it shimmered in the golden light while Kyle gazed at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

A smile blooms across your face, the taste of iron flooding your mouth as your undead love finally pauses in his feast, trails of tendons and muscle and vocal cords hanging from his lips. 

When you finally looked up at him, he leaned in close, forehead pressed to yours as he murmured, “Til death do us part, right?”

You had pressed your lips to his in a tender, heart-filled kiss. Pulling away to murmur against his lips. 

“Not even then. I’m with you forever.”

[robertdowneyjjr]

Happy birthday!!! 🥳 Also, I absolutely love your writing~♡ (your stony soulmate au and vampire tony au are my favorite!!!)

For the prompt: Tony being dragged to a weapon's demonstration by Howard, decides to absolutely piss him off by wearing booty shorts and tank tops—distracting Howard's favorite soldiers: Steve and Bucky

hello ily sorry this has taken so long 🥲

———

As long as Stark Industries continues to make weapons, Tony has zero interest in “doing his part” for the company at these military shindigs. Sure, he’s glad that his dad is at least letting him head the efforts for defensive and medical tech, but until the day the weapons department is completely shut down, Tony will not give those power hungry generals the time of day.

So when Howard all but forces Tony into joining him for a five-day trip to Afghanistan for a weapons demonstration, Tony retaliates the best way he knows how. By shamelessly embarrassing his dad.

He takes his sweet time on the plane, lazing casually in his band t-shirt and jeans as they make their descent. He knows he’ll be expected to change into a more “appropriate” outfit once they land because that’s protocol, and he’s looking forward to watching Howard’s head explode later.

That’ll teach him to force Tony into doing anything weapons-related.

By the time the company jet lands, Howard has already changed into his perfectly pressed suit so he can greet the soldiers who have been sent to meet them.

“Hurry up and get changed, Tony. The general has sent his most elite squad to come get us,” Howard says. “Steve and Bucky are the best of the best. Let’s show them some respect and not keep them waiting.”

He turns towards the stairs to disembark.

“What the hell kind of a name is Bucky…” Tony mutters as he heads towards the back of the plane to change his clothes.

Five minutes later, he’s going down the plane stairs like a pageant queen, never mind the fact that he’s dressed like the polar opposite. The chatter between Howard and the two beefcakes facing him abruptly stops when the blonde one spots Tony and immediately blushes a bright red.

When Howard turns to see what the problem is, he goes red too, albeit much uglier and angrier.

“Tony, what in the world are you wearing? Do you really think this is appropriate for a trip of this nature?” Howard seethes.

As he joins the group, Tony looks down at his clothes. His jean shorts cut off six inches above his knees, and his tank bearing his favorite band’s logo is only marginally long enough to not be considered a crop top. He looks damn good, and he knows it.

“I do in fact think these clothes are appropriate, actually. I dressed for the weather.” He pastes on a shit-eating grin and turns towards the soldiers. “Hi, I’m Tony.”

Before either of them could introduce themselves, Howard cuts in.

“Get back in there and change into a proper suit, Tony. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. All I’ve packed are shorts and tank tops and t-shirts.”

As Howard splutters, one of the soldiers — the blonde one who had been staring — takes Tony’s hand and shakes it.

“I’m Steve. I, uh, I think you look great. Um, you’ve got nice legs,” he says, his ears turning pink. Tony has a feeling it’s not because of the blazing sun.

The brunette standing next to Steve gently shoves him aside and takes his place in front of Tony.

“Heya, I’m Bucky.” He boldly steps closer and places his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “And if you really do need something else to wear, I’d be happy to lend ya somethin’. I’m sure you’d look incredible in my clothes, doll.” He winks.

Tony glances between the two soldiers, both of whom have not even spared Howard or anyone else a second of their attention since Tony sauntered up to them in his booty shorts and tank top.

He smiles.

Looks like this trip might not be a bad idea after all.

[ravennaortiz]

Hello darling I’m back again for some more smut with EZ cause I can’t get enough of that beautiful man.

Can we do prompts: 12, 21 & 39

Please and thank you! Love you❤️

Welcome back Love!!!!!! Some smut with the handsome EZ? Why of course I can do that for ya! Loves ya too! Come back for more anytime! As always 18+! Now lets get to the magic!

Lets see Prompts

12. Do you wanna come in?

21. Like what you see?

39. (blank) is yourdad/brother? Why didn't you tell me?

Fun Night, Terrible Morning

"Do you wanna come in?" you asked as you opened the door and looking over you shoulder at EZ. He seemed surprised but nodded as he followed you in. "Make yourself comfortable. Want a drink?" you stated as you locked the door and gestured to your couch. "I'll take a beer" replied EZ as he kicked his boots off and hung his leather by the door where you had put your jacket. Moving to your couch he settled in and couldn't help the grin as he heard you humming to yourself as you made your way to the kitchen.

The two of you had been on a handful of dates over the last couple of weeks and he was feeling confident that you might actually be the one. "Here ya go" you replied a couple minutes later as you handed him a beer and set yours on the table. "Mind if I go change into something more comfy?" you inquired with a smile as you stood in front of him. "Not at all" replied EZ as he smiled up at you. "Be right back" you replied before walking down the hall to he assumed your bedroom.

A few minutes later EZ heard you call for him. "Everything okay?" he asked as he tapped on your half opened door. "Yeah" you called with a giggle. Confused EZ pushed the door open and the sight of you splayed out on your bed, hands roaming your body left him speechless. "Like what you see?" you inquired innocently as you let the tips of your fingers dip just slightly into your wet core. EZ simply nodded as his eyes followed your fingers as you moved them to your mouth licking them like a lollipop. "You should come get a taste" you purred as you watched EZ lick his lips.

Within seconds EZ had shed his clothes and pulled you to the edge of his bed as he latched his mouth onto your wet core." God damn" he moaned into you as he closed his eyes relishing in the intoxicating taste of you. You let out a sharp breath when his teeth grazed your clit. "EZ" you moaned as you clamped your thighs around his head as he latched onto it sucking gently.

When he added two fingers and started pressing into that soft sweet spot your body spasmed as he tipped you over the edge into a heavenly bliss. EZ moaned into you as your sweet nectar flooded his mouth. Ez pulled two more earth shattering orgasms out of you before he finally pulled away panting.

Once you had regained your ability to move some you rolled over onto your stomach and raised your hips up off the bed. "I need you in me" you whimpered as you looked over your shoulder at him. Without hesitation Ez was sliding his stiff cock fully into you making you cry out his name. Ez groaned as he gripped your hips tightly and started slamming into you. He knew he wouldn't last long this time as your walls gripped him. "Feel so good wrapped around me " he moaned as he felt you clench around him as you let out an a string of fucks as he tipped your over stimulated body over the edge. Your eyes rolled back and you gripped the sheets tightly in your fist as you came around his cock milking his own release deep into you.

***

Next morning

You were startled awake by your bedroom door slamming shut. Yanking the sheets around your still naked body you saw Ez pressed against the door with a look of panic. "What's wrong?" you asked as you looked at him. Is Coco Cruz is your brother?" demanded Ez. You sighed before answering. "Yeah. I'm guessing he let himself in huh" you answered as you stated. "Don't worry he is harmless" you added trying to reassure EZ. EZ stared at you like you had grown a second head before replying. "Why would you not tell me your brother is also a Mayan? Also, no he is not harmless. He has his gun and a knife on you coffee table and asked which one I would prefer my dick to be removed with. " replied EZ his voice rising slightly in panic. "Oh. I'll go explain" you replied as you got put of bed and started looking for your clothes. "You will be fine" you added as you kissed his cheek before stepping out of the room.

Want more Ez? Click here

Want to make your own request? Click here

[v-ternus]

the lost myth of true love

Day 2 of Kinktober- Tail Play

[prompts courtesy of the lovely @kroas-adtam ]

Explicit | Mountain and tWaterDew

Summary: Mountain introduces Dew to a new world

below for your consumption :)

Its a perfect late afternoon, Mountain thinks. He’d managed to finish his work in the greenhouse earlier than expected and he got to watch the start of the sunset as he was locking things up. On his way back to the ghoul wing, he got to watch some of the ministry children play in the courtyard– hopscotch is what they said when he had wandered over and asked. As he weaved through the hallways, a nice cool breeze followed and carried with it, the decadent smell of Aether’s workings in the kitchen. It was all peaceful, and it was some much needed calm.

But what really tops the cake for Mountain is what’s waiting for him just atop his nest. He cracks his door open to see the new water ghoul leaning against his pile of furs and cushions with a book in his hands. He recognizes it almost immediately– a hardbound edition of Metamorphoses by Ovid. Dew looks up at the earth ghoul and his face warms with a smile. 

The two had gotten very accustomed to each other in the months since Dew’s summoning. The way their elements entwined made things easier– they just both got each other. They knew how to coexist together in perfect harmony and neither could be happier. Where things changed was during one stormy night, a mere few weeks since Dew had come topside.

Mountain had peered into Dew’s room that night after he heard small whimpers. He saw Dew’s skin, slick with sweat and he felt so hot he was almost burning. When Dew moaned as Mountain’s fingers met his skin, Mountain knew what was happening. He helped him through that night, his first heat. He held him close to his chest as he buried himself deep. He listened closely to each moan and each high pitched whine whenever he prodded at that special spot that made Dew see stars. Everything from that night is burned so deeply into his mind– and he wants to give Dew more. He’d give Dew his heart if he could.

“Where are you at now?” Mountain asks as he rids himself of his work clothes, stripping down to his boxers and a white sleep shirt. 

“Im just about through Orpheus and Eurydice.” He watches Mountain pad over as he sets the book down on the bedside table. The earth ghoul continues his stride until he’s crawling towards Dew. He straddles a pair of spindly thighs and reaches forward to cradle Dew’s cheeks in his hands. He places a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“What do you think of it?” He brings their lips together, this time for a real kiss, not actually giving Dew any time to answer. His tongue slips in past Dew’s lips and he swallows the moan that rumbles from Dew’s chest. He pulls himself back from Dew to get a good look at his puffy lips and flushed cheeks. It takes Dew a second to remember that Mountain had asked him a question. 

“He really loves her,” He says, breathless. “Really, really loves her.” He knows that it sounds juvenile, hell it even feels that way too, but Dew can't find any other word to describe it. Orpheus loved Eurydice so much, enough to descend into the underworld for her. His love was so grand, so intense that it swayed gods. It was impossible for Dew to even describe a fraction of that with mortal words, they just wouldn't do it any justice. 

“Yeah he does droplet.” Mountain punctuates his words with carefully placed kisses right over Dew’s eyelids. Then his nose. Then the sharp angles of his cheekbones. He keeps going, doing his best to touch his lips to every atom that makes up his love. 

“Does he remind you of anyone?” There’s a joking tone to Mountain’s voice. Dew just gives him a nice hum. 

Of course he reminds me of someone Mount. He says the words to himself, lets them echo in his mind because he’s too nervous to speak them aloud. Instead, he crashes his lips back onto Mountain’s. He cant say it, but he’ll do his damn best to show it. He laps greedily against Mountain's mouth, pulling him impossibly closer. Dew drinks him down like he’s the first sip of water after 40 days and nights in the desert. 

There’s no retreat in his efforts, and soon enough Mountain feels like he’s actually stealing the breath from his lungs, unable to take a proper breath with the way Dew seems intent on consuming him. He taps Dew’s neck, and it's enough of a gesture that it seems to pull Dew back from the edge. 

Mountain takes in a few breaths to get his bearings before posing what should be some of the last coherent words of the evening. “Can I show you something?”

“Anything.” 

Mountain peels himself out of Dew’s lap and situates himself against the headboard. He watches the confused look plastered across Dew’s face as he pats his hand on his leg.

“C’mere.” Dew keeps the confused look but follows the request, facing Mountain and straddling his thigh. 

“You’ll tell me to stop if you don’t like it right?” In all of the moments they’ve shared like this, Mountain always asks.

“Always Mount. But what’re you talking about?” Dew knows that Mountain wouldn't do something to hurt him, but now knowing what awaits him has nerves twisting in his gut. 

“Just give it a sec hmm?” Mountain says as he cradles Dew’s face again, drifting his thumbs over the delicate skin. “I need you to drop your glamor for this love.” Dew obliges, releasing the hold he has on his magic, ridding himself of the near constant tension at the crown of his head. 

As he relaxes, the skin on his neck opens up to reveal his gills, glowing just like the bioluminescent swirls that paint the rest of his skin. His scales along his arms shimmer in the warm light of the sunset. The sight makes Mountain gasp. It's something truly special to witness Dew’s true form, and he savors it everytime. 

Dew watches as Mountain lets his hands drift to his waist and squeeze at them affectionately. He stares at how far his fingers reach– Mountain’s fingers could wrap around his whole body with no effort. But what really gets Dew going is the quickly growing tent in Mountain’s boxers. He grinds down against Mountain’s leg then, searching for some type of friction now that he has an idea of what’s in store for him. 

Mountain rocks Dew forward, making him lean flush to his chest. He brings a hand to the space between Dew’s bony shoulder blades and uses the grip to hold Dew close. His other hand laces itself into the soft, golden hair and tugs on it just enough to angle Dew’s face towards him. He gives one last kiss on the tip of Dew’s nose before tracing his finger down Dew’s spine. He feels each ridge and feels goosebumps form. He stops just above where a certain appendage juts out of their mortal vessels. 

“You ever touch yourself here droplet?” He asks as his large hand wraps around the base of Dew’s tail. Dew mumbles a quiet no, almost as if he was embarrassed. What a shame, he thinks, Dew should know every bodily delight, especially considering how sensitive these human bodies are. A twisted pride blooms in Mountain, another addition to his ego. Another first for Dew, at his own hands. 

“N– no,” Dew stutters, unable to pull in a full breath with the sudden fire coursing up his spine. “Fuck… that’s sensitive.”

“That it is bug.” This time, Mountain strokes it, starting at the base and gently tugging a few inches.  

“It turns out shoving hellbeast into human bodies lands us in some fun situations. Some wires get crossed when we drop our glamours, the body doesn't know what to do with our tails.” He speaks almost aimlessly as he continues to tug at Dew’s tail.

“I remember when Zephyr first had me like this, they were my first too.” This time, Mountain lets a finger drift to the underside of Dew’s tail, stroking at the space between it and his tight hole. That was Mountain’s own spot. Even the slightest touches sent him hurtling towards the edge. What’s the harm in trying it on Dew?

It turns out, there’s a lot of harm. Dew just about lights on fire as Mountain skims the rough pad of his finger against him. It's too much and not enough at the same time. His brain cries out for it to stop, but it begs for Mountain at even the slightest suggestion of him slowing down. 

“I was a little newer than you I think,” The gentle movement of his hand stills as he removes his finger and drags his thumb over the sensitive base instead. Dew feels like his face is about to melt off. He digs his head into Montain’s shoulder and exhales into the sturdy muscle. It doesn't work. He doesn't know how Mountain can stay this calm and collected as he falls apart in his lap. 

He tries to coach himself through the fog, tries to breathe through each slow brush of Mountain’s hand. It proves just as futile.

“That’s a good boy,” The praise doesn't really make sense to him, he isn't doing anything, or at least that's what he thinks. “Take what you need baby.”

He realizes he’s been unknowingly grinding his still clothed cunt over Mountain’s thigh, coating it in slick that he’s sure is making a wet spot on the bed below. Mountain has been able to feel each twitch of Dew’s cock against him and it's done nothing but spur him on. It's almost become a mission to him, to pick Dew apart until he’s a bumbling mess. 

“Mount, you gotta… wait. Fuck, hold on” Dew contests. He doesnt know how much longer he can last.

“Are you sure?” Dew knows how to make this stop, he knows exactly what word to say to get Mountain’s hands off of him. 

“-yes. N–no. I dont know.” Dew sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, but Mountain knows they’ll be good ones. “Can I cum Mounty? Please?” 

Mountain feels his heart bloom at the request. He weaves his free hand into the hair on the back of Dew’s head and runs his nails over his scalp, scratching at that spot that calms Dew down during thunderstorms and bad bus rides and turbulent flights. He comforts him, because what’s about to happen is going to hit him like a truck.

“Of course my love,” He thinks he’s more excited about this than Dew is, he’s always excited when he gets to make his siren feel good. 

Mountain holds him to his chest tight, and spurs on each roll of his hips with a stream of ‘good boy’ and ‘there you go’  whispered against his temple. 

“Get me nice and messy droplet, whenever you’re ready.” It doesnt take much more for Dew to tumble off the high cliff of his pleasure. One soft brush of Mountain’s finger against the underside of his tail has him cumming silently as he keeps rutting against Mountain’s thigh. To drive it home, Mountain wraps his hand around the base of his tail one last time and squeezes softly, just until he feels a wet gush against his leg. 

“So good for me Dew, you did so well.” He whispers his praise as he pries his hands away from the now sensitive muscle and brings it up to Dew’s lower back. He feels each twitch of the small body on him, each jerk as his body works through the earth shattering orgasm. Underneath it all, he can feel the gentle rumbling of Dew purring.

Dew doesn't know how to express himself after that, and even if he could, the words wouldn't come out how he wanted them to. 

“That… was. Mount, that–”

“I know.” Mountain says it so matter-of-factly that if he wasnt spreading gentle touches across Dew, he’d think that he was bored. 

“You?” Dew asks. ‘What about you?’ is what he means to ask, but the words get lost between his brain and his lips.

Mountain chuckles at the fact that the first thing Dew does is ask about him. He always wants to check on everyone else, he wants to make sure they’re taken care of. Even if it means that sometimes, he’s set on the backburner, letting himself be burned by the flames. 

“Im fine Dew.” Mountain insists, hoping its enough to convince Dew to relax for once. Stubborn as he is, the water ghoul doesnt let up. He musters up some strength, just enough to angle his head so that he’s almost face to face with Mountain. 

“Let me help Mount, you didnt….” The worry that drips from his words makes Mountain’s heart swell. The love they have for eachother knows no bounds. 

Mountain buries his nose into Dew’s hair and inhales the cool, crisp scent of his arousal. “I did bug. I did.”

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: December 9

I'm doing my best to get through my massive reading list by the end of the year, so buckle up, fam, you're about to get served a buffet of fic. There's so many tasty morsels here, even Mama Flores has to appreciate this feast.

🪐 = Year of Themed Creation Fics!

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FRANKIE MORALES

Sheer Desire by @the-blind-assassin-12 Okay so imagine you're Frankie's +1 to a Millerboy wedding. And there's dancing and yearning and flirting involved. And the knowledge that after the reception, you're going to have him all to yourself. Now add in black thigh-high nylons. And the desire to see them in his hands. And his desire to have those lacy tops pressed against his ears.... IT'S HOT LIKE FIRE. DID YOU THINK IT WOULD NOT BE. GO GET IT.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #2: Frankie Morales - Kiss in the Hammock by @something-tofightfor I mean, who doesn't want to be cuddled up in a hammock with Frankie? Who doesn't want those soft curls and soft lips and warm arms all pressed up against you?

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #12: Frankie Morales - Kiss in the Dark / Break Up Kiss by @something-tofightfor A little angst and a lot of love are on display here. Frankie's here to show his responsible and protective side, and while there's plenty of hurt, he does it oh so softly and I'm just glad we are left with hope.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #14: Frankie Morales - “I miss you” Kiss / Angry Kiss by @something-tofightfor So remember that hope I just mentioned up there? Same pairing here, and the hope pays off. It's not without some real talk, but perhaps that's what makes the love even more deliciously sincere.

The day Frankie both loves and loathes the kitchen counter by @undercoverpena This is such a wonderful domestic Frankie POV piece. The way he wants to be better for reader, to provide more, to keep promises...the way he adores everything about her, including how she loves to bundle up in his clothes... Getting a peek inside a man who is sweet and loving and seeing the motivations there is such a treat. I really got swept up in this one.

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MARCUS PIKE

The Thing About Second Chances by @artemiseamoon 🪐 This is exquisite. The pain of walking away really hurt. But then, when they met again it is so masterfully done...there are all these little impulses of his, wanting to do everything for her that could easily be overbearing except that he's just so damn loveable and it's hard to watch two people who clearly live each other be denied. I'm not sure he can really change all that much, but I am really pulling for them. Sometimes a little time apart can really drive home how much you can miss someone. Beautiful.

The Moon in May - Full Moon by @hopeamarsu Alpha Marcus. and. sitting on lap. purring and. teasing and soft and spreading you open but requiring go slow. is a tasty treat. brain mush. purring chest at my back. yes please.

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JOEL MILLER

Something Wild and Unruly by @ezrasbirdie Okay, remember when I said that there was a fic that was so beautiful it made me want to quit writing? This is it, and I mean that as a high compliment. Like, I finished it and just put my head in my hands and stared out the window with a big smile on my face. It's outlaw!Joel and old west sex worker!reader with a heart of gold and a good attitude about what she does. It's got so so so much feels and yearning and softness and bathing and the ending is beautiful and full of hope...this fic is up all of my alleys and making all of my jams and is my entire life mood. It is my new official Fave Birdie Fic™️ and I need to sing that to the world.

Small Joys: Wheelbug by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 The whole point of Lyr's Small Joys series is just that--joys. So it seems antithetical for Ellie to have found a bug that's big and bitey and for Joel to freak out about and try to bat it away. But the joy part of it comes from reader's reaction--to the wonder at finding a wheelbug in nature where it wasn't expected--and Ellie's, who of course will always find wonder in something new. Simple and beautifully done.

Small Joys: Leaf Pile by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 Yes, the joy here is jumping in a leaf pile, but the joy I got from it was being able to hear Joel and Ellie perfectly in this. I also love the process Ellie gets to have in collecting the leaves and talking to a neighbor. It's really delightful.

The Sun Will Shine Again by @foli-vora I can't imagine dealing with crippling depression during the years after the outbreak, how hard and crippling it would be. And yet, I think I'd be able to manage if Joel was on my side, telling me he'd carry me as long as he could just to make sure I made it through. This is just such a beautiful piece. I want to curl up in it like a blanket.

Tangled Triumphs by @planet-marz1 I think my blood sugar levels hit an all-time high with this one and I ascended into the heavens. Joel learns to do Sarah's hair and it's so sweet and precious and I love them. Please read this. I need other people to share my squeals.

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JACK DANIELS

Cast Iron Sunshine part 1: Think I'll Call You Sunshine and part 2: Daisy by @blueeyesatnight Color me intrigued. We got ourselves a cocky cowboy in the wild west and a female doctor reader with some determination, sass, and willingness to sport a revolver, and I want more of that push and pull I'm sure is coming. The first meeting is just enough tingle to rub my hands together with glee. HE'S SUCH A SHIT. But then comes Daisy and she's here to lay some hearts open...

What Happens in Vegas.., ...Never Really Ends in Vegas, and Forever by @wildemaven A beautiful drabble trio that encompasses the realization that you've accidentally-in-Vegas married Jack, trying to quit him, and being unable to do so. Do yourself a favor, don't think about it too hard, and give into your cowboy.

Remember Me by @toomanystoriessolittletime This twisted my little heart and melted me in so many ways. When Jack is brought back and can't remember his girlfriend? Can I just cry a river? No worries though, the ending's a happy, hopeful one.

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DIETER BRAVO

Thought That I Was Dreaming by @haylzcyon Salty, spicy, and sweet all at once...this may just be my dream Dieter smut. I very much love a "did he really say???" but then the reason for her not asking was perfect. How does Haylz make the very filthiest filth the sweetest sweet?

Sleazy Santa by @morallyinept This what happens when Dieter's not an actor, just a tremendous sleezebag working as a mall Santa (he's respectful to the kids) and you can't stop wanting that scummy D and go bang dirty in the Grotto. There's candy cane action. It's real nasty. And written like a fkn gourmet meal. The sweatier Jett writes this slimeball, the more I want. I don't know how. It's like Christmas magic. Delicious.

Crawling Back to You by @prolix-yuy This fic is a feast and all of my favorite dishes are on the table. Monsterfkn. Demons. Blasphemy. Sexy contracts. Dieter being a menace. And softness????? This is smut and it is hot hot hot, but there's enough here that's sweetness and fondness that it's going straight to my forever faves list. HE RUINS HER SO NICELY. UGH!

Rendezvous in Reno by @theywhowriteandknowthings A Dieter with small-dick insecurities? Please and thank you, this is super cute. I'd love to get called out for describing his junk wrong in my fics and get a personal correction.

It's Never Over by @pennyserenade We don't get enough exes-to-friends fic around here, and this one is really nice. As much as I hope for them to connect again, I respect their love for each other and their need to just let themselves be special to each other. There were moments here that were bittersweet, but I really loved that about it.

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DIN DJARIN

Birfday--Din by @writeforfandoms Listen. Is it so wrong that I want to cook a nice breakyfast to show Din how much he's loved? Is that too much to ask? Thanks, Jen, for something soft and sweet.

Then We'll Find Out Together by @missredherring A lovely little drabble about settling down in a new home with Din, getting used to the slowness and softness and niceness of everything. And when reader can't sleep, the one thing that's familiar--Din himself--is what calms her down. A lovely little drabble that I would like to live in.

Bounty and Hunter by @never--doubt 🪐 A soulmate fic wherein soulmates can't hurt each other. How interesting then that one of you is being hunted...and makes quite a game out of it?

Significant by @softlyspector He's been calling you riduur for months and you still don't know what it means. Once you find out, that's when the fireworks start. I don't know that I've read dialogue for Din and his sweetheart that affected me the way the last two lines of this fic did...... *swoons*

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PERO TOVAR

Watercolor by @iamskyereads I mean, give a sellsword a bath and you may be in for trouble. But not this man. This man just needs a little care, and while he may not say much, he make good on all kindnesses. I would do anything to give this man a bath and have him speak kindly to me.

Date or Inseminate by @sirowsky Now listen. You're gonna have to read the warnings on this, because I for one get really squicked by dub-con mixed with medical malpractice. I didn't read the warnings and it came out of nowhere....but I'm telling you my eyebrows shot up and then I just giggled through the whole thing like WHAT IS HAPPENING. Sometimes fic is just there to be fun and slap you silly. IRL? No please. But this? Go in with the right mood and it's just strangely and shockingly delightful smut.

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JAVI GUTIERREZ

Formula 101: December to Remember Part 2: Take What Comes by @littlemisspascal There's a lot to love about Rae's F1 media fic. Even outside of the easter eggs in the worldbuilding and the lovely way Javi and Oddball's relationship develops, there are the delightful media interludes--emails, texts, instagram posts complete with character comments--that use pictures and dialogue to move the plot along in a unique way. I love how a short text chain not only sets up a later story locale, but illustrates a history and relationship between two characters so fluidly. Every chapter is a delight to see how the media enhances the storyline...a storyline that is moving in a very interesting direction...

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SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

BO KATAN KRYZE

Hiding Away from the Galaxy by @ghostofskywalker 🪐 I love a good reunion story. Here, you're an ex-Jedi who has a past with Bo and come to find her when all the wars are done. I'd agree that it's worth the wait when she takes you in her arms....

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MARC SPECTOR

My Knight in White by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 Jey's been doing a year of protectiveness, and you know I don't mind that AT ALL. I would love nothing more than to have Marc follow me home and protect me. And then, yeah, if he let me follow him home...and into his bedroom....I wouldn't complain..... *swoon*

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